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psychedelic-ink · 6 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃

ㅤㅤwoodshop teacher!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

warnings: semi-public fingering, dirty talk, reader has a small exhibitionism kink, competency kink

a/n: special thanks to the anon who requested this! I enjoyed writing it thoroughly ❤️‍🔥

There are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching Mr. Miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

The sleeves of his flannel were rolled neatly up to the elbow, exposing his forearms, strong and dusted lightly with sawdust from earlier. You watch intently as Mr. Miller takes the carving tool in his hands, demonstrating how to use it to the class. You’re out of breath. Completely entranced by the way his muscles flex and ripple in his forearms - beautifully defined beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. Unlike the other students who take in the information in a more appropriate way, all you can focus on is the gathering wetness between your legs.

So much so that you don’t even realize that Mr Miller had instructed the class to start carving. You’re dumbfounded when you suddenly find the man staring right in front of your working bench, staring down at you with an amused gaze.

“Sometin’ wrong with your tools?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. God. You’re an idiot. You open and close your mouth, he’s so close—close enough that you can breathe in his scent which you identify as pine.

“No—No. Just. . .”

He leans over the bench, his hands landing on the edge, fingers spreading over the smooth surface. Your eyes drop almost by instinct. You see the faint scars littered across his skin.

“Distracted?” he finishes your sentence for you. You meet his gaze, heart beating in your throat, you expect to see an expression showing you that you’ve been caught doing something bad but much to your surprise, you see the lingering traces of worry. “We should talk ‘bout it after class. Sound good?”

Does he really not see the state you’re in? That you’re practically soaked to your core—ready to say yes to anything that comes out of his plush lips. Is he that oblivious to his charm?

“Yeah,” you mutter, grabbing one of the carving tools sprawled out. You wrap your fingers around the material, squeezing it, your thumb faintly caresses the contour. His eyes flicker at the subtle movement. “Sounds good.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on or are we goin’ to continue to have a stare-down until my next class?”

He’s smiling, however, it does little to calm your raging nerves. It’s been almost ten minutes since class had ended. A class that truly tested the limits of your patience. You barely managed to carve a line, your eyes were fixed on him, his hands, his arms. . . Your mind showed you one image after another, forcing you to think of the answer to questions like: how big is his cock? How fast could he make you come with just his fingers?

Fuck, the thought alone is enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, coming closer to the desk. “Today will be the last time, promise.”

He hums as he leans back into the chair, his legs parting. You feel another fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. “Do you know how long you’ve been taking my workshop?”

“Uh. . . three weeks?”

“Good,” he nods. “And can you tell me how many times I caught you just starin’ instead of doin’?”

“A. . . reasonable amount?”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Not a reasonable amount.” When you remain silent, simmering in your own embarrassment, he continues. “It looks like I ain’t the right teacher for you. And I care whether people learn a thing or two in my class so I wrote you down a number.”

He rolls back a bit, opening the drawer, he picks up a card. You’re completely in shock as he stands, handing you the aforementioned card. When you look at it you see the name Tommy Miller written on it along with a phone number.

“That’s my brother,” he explains. “He has a different approach than I do. Younger too, which may benefit you.”

“I. . . what? Are—Are you kicking me out of your class?”

You can’t help the quiver that accompanies your question. You’re an idiot. A huge idiot. You made him think that he’s no good in teaching which couldn’t be further from the truth. Still in shock, you stare down at the card and back up to him. He seems just as surprised as you are.

“No, no, I ain’t kickin’ you out. I just. . . I thought this would help. I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s your hands—” you finally snap, taking him by surprise. Your brain is screaming at you to shut up but you can’t. Not knowing what else to do, you cover your face with both hands, breathing heavily into your palms. Your wood carving career is over. “You just—shit—you just look so good doing what you do and it’s been so long since—well, it’s just really distracting,” you feel the card with his brother’s number slip through your fingers, he’s not saying anything. Fuck. “That’s why I was. . . distracted. It has nothing to do with you or your teaching style. You’re great.”

You should let yourself out now. You really should.

“You think I look good?” The quip catches you off guard and you dare to lower your hands. He’s smiling again, beaming actually, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. You blink.

“You really didn’t know?”

“Nope,” he looks down sheepishly. “I ain’t good at readin’ signs and it’s been long for me too.”

He takes a step closer, pushing you back until the edge of the desk is biting into your flesh. Your breath stutters. He cages you in, muscular arms on both sides of your hips. He tilts his head and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes at the brush of his lips. His hands toy with the zipper of your jeans. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ durin’ class and maybe I’ll give you a gold star.”

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out, rolling your hips forward. He grins against your skin. “I. . .I thought about your hands and how they would feel like. I also thought about—”

You cut yourself off. He prompts you to continue by lowering the zipper. “You also thought about what?” he murmurs. “Don’t be a bad girl now. I know you wanna be good for me.”

You do. You really fucking do.

“I thought about how big your cock might be,” you gasp. “I thought about how good it would feel to have you inside me.”

Mr Miller takes your hand and brings it to the rather impressive bulge between his legs. Your body warms as you cup him gingerly. Despite the soft touch, his eyes still roll back. “Why don’t you tell me how big I am?” he murmurs, thrusting into your palm. Fuck, he feels huge underneath the denim.

“Really big,” you answer, stroking him. “You’re huge Mr Miller—”

“Joel,” he groans. “Call me Joel.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Joel. Are you going to fuck me with this big cock of yours?”

He chuckles, “Sadly no. We can’t now but. . .” You shudder at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your chin. He pushes back your hand and swiftly tugs down your pants. “I’ll give you my fingers, sweetheart. Want to feel you creamin’ around them.”

You tremble at his touch. Two thick fingers moving between your dripping lips, spreading them, teasing your entrance. Your breath hitches as he swirls the pads of his fingers around your clit. You melt against him, forehead falling to the front of his shoulder as he circles, circles and circles them. Your slick coats his fingers, trickles down his wrist. Those skillful hands now a mess.

“You weren’t kiddin’,” he says into your hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked for me.”

“For you,” you agree, grinding your hips. “Give them to me. Please please please—”

“Shhhhhh keep quiet or I’m gonna have to spank ya—” A wanton moan rips from your throat and you pulse, a gush of liquid drenching you both. The sounds that come out of you are obscene. “You like that huh?”

You nod desperately. His chest trembles as he lets out a low chuckle. “So honest. ‘Guess you deserve a reward.”

His fingers slide into you with ease, two of them sliding in and out, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit every time he plunges them deep inside. “Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, scissoring his fingers. “How are you this worked up? How the fuck are you so wet? Shit sweetheart—”

You know. You know how wet you are. He thrusts his fingers knuckle deep, curling them, liquid heat drips down your spine, every muscle tensing with the promise of release. The sounds of him fucking you fills the workshop. The door is unlocked, you know this, there was no reason for either of you to think of locking it before. The thought of people seeing, someone watching—

Your head falls back as a whimper slips from your lips, his eyes find your own, dark with arousal. His thumb rubs at your clit. “Tell me,” he orders.

“You have class soon,” you oblige, the thought making you clench. His brows furrow.

“Yeah?”

“People might see,” you add, just a hint of a teasing lilt in your voice. Your tone goes completely over Joel’s head, the tease prompting his fingers to still. Your groan in frustration, hips desperately jerking for the friction to continue.

“You wanna stop?”

“No, Joel. I. . .” Oh god, you can’t word it out. It’s making you flustered. “It’s kinda hot. . . that people might see.”

“Oh,” he blinks then a second later his lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Oh.”

And when he understands where you’re coming from—all hell breaks loose.

Joel pushes you up the desk, nestling himself between your legs, your muscles left trembling at the stretch. He slips in another finger, fucking you thoroughly with three of them. Your jaw goes slack, your body burning from the inside out. You try to bite back the sounds but it’s hard when you’re left so exposed. It feels good—it feel amazing. You’re stammering over your words, somewhere between wanting to beg him and wanting to tell him how mind-numbingly beautiful this feels. His fingers stroke your deepest parts, applying pressure on just the right spot.

“If you can’t handle this there’s no way you can take my cock, honey.” Your breasts feel heavy and full, nipple going hard at the gravel in his voice. You want to touch him so bad, have his cock in your mouth, worship him with your entire body. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel how good your pussy feels when you come. Fuckin’ make a mess of the desk. I’ll just fuckin’ make a new one and you can soak that one too—”

You’re chanting his name with hushed whispers, over and over. A familiar heat and tingle settles in your stomach, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, it doesn’t take you long after that. He keeps moaning about how good you’re feeling, about how he’ll be thinking about your perfect wet pussy when the next class starts. It’s all too much. Unbearable.

“Look at me,” he growls and you barely hear him. He slips his fingers into the knots of your hair and yanks your head back. Your eyelids flutter as you stare directly at him. He bares his teeth. “Fuckin’ come for me.”

Your jaw drops, all care about keeping silent floating from your head as the most guttural moan rips from your throat. It’s so intense that you can physically feel yourself creaming around him, the slick at base of his finger a shade darker. “Atta girl,” he keeps saying into your mouth, over and over. You’re still coming, your insides left throbbing and raw.

The two of you stay like that for a while. His fingers still knuckle deep, panting heavily, both your bodies glistening with sweat. His forehead falls against yours and you sigh happily, a smile touching your lips.

You expect him to kiss you but he doesn’t, it almost feels like he’s holding himself back. Instead, he brushes your lips together, expression almost painful.

“You got any plans for tonight?”

You shake your head.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel miller au #requests

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madelinemccoolname · 5 months

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Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.

#hrt that makes you slime #slime girls #slimegirl #slimegender #slimegirls #slime girl #fantasy hrt #creative writing #my writing #writing #slime #the writer's poorly disguised transition goals #slight body horror #transgender #goo girl #goo #monster girl

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sinsirellaxx · 2 months

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Five times the Rogue Prince made you cry

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Daemon being Daemon, mentions of dubcon, angst and heartbreak?

Also: Not proofread – as always. Are we even surprised at this point?

The first time he had made you cry; was the second time you had met him. The first time you had met him was at a celebration at the Red Keep, his eyes had been glued to you the moment they had come across you. You weren’t sure what had drawn him to you, because you and everyone else were aware of his preferences – and you were nothing like the ideal woman that he was surely after. What you were sure of, however, was the feeling of discomfort and dread wash over you as his eyes burned into your skin. You had excused yourself early and parted from your friends and family before he had the chance to approach you.

After that, you saw him as he was invading your city, causing havoc and brutally cutting down everyone that came across him. Your wide teary eyes, filled with grief and hatred, had met his wicked ones before you turned around and ran. Ran until your legs burned – begging you to stop and rest. But you couldn’t. The sound of him hot on your tail haunting you and forcing you to push your muscles beyond their limits, scared of what he might do to you if he caught you.

The only thing that saved you that night was you jumping off a cliff and into the deep dark sea – lucky that you hadn’t hit your head on a stone upon breaching through the water surface. Before the Rogue Prince could reach the waters, you had managed to run into the woods and hide.

The second time he had made you cry was in the free city of Braavos. After having escaped that horrible night, you had not returned home to look for any remaining family – in fear of running across the Rogue Prince and having to face the reality of losing your family. Instead, you had traveled to Braavos to start a new life and to find the faceless men, for the world was not kind to helpless girls or women – you needed to learn how to fend for yourself. After weeks of trying to coax your way into the guild you finally made it into it. Moons pass by, before you cross paths with the Rogue Prince again. You don’t see him until he is just a few feet away from you, his hand reaching out towards you, his eyes filled with the same electric excitement as that night. You turned around just in time, stumbling back a few steps when your brain registered his Targaryen features. When you finally realized you turned around and ran, the blonde prince right behind you.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you at the Déjà vu, the situation so ironic that it made you want to laugh. You were thankful that you had spent a good amount of time exploring the city as you maneuvered through narrow alleys, pushing random objects to the floor behind you to slow the prince down.

Why was he here? Had he been searching for you? If so, why?

When you spotted the temple of the Faceless-Men your eyes lit up, but before you could relax the thought of luring a stranger to the guild to the temple would be fatal. You’d be in trouble with the Faceless-Men, and it was never wise to show your hideout to your enemy. Which is why you took a sharp turn, stumbling in the process. Fuck. Fear consumed your body when a hand shot out, grasping the back of your shirt with inhuman strength, pulling you back into the hard chest of your captor. You had lost. His strong arms wrapped around you, caging you in.

“I finally got you, little bird.” He chuckled into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your cheek like dragon fire, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You had started thrashing around immediately; kicking your legs, pushing your elbow into his sides but nothing seemed to help – his grip was like iron around you. His embrace would be your personal birdcage from then on. The more you seemed to put up a fight, the wider the smirk on his face grew. As impatient as Daemon was, he quickly grew tired of your tantrum, the elbow that had managed to hit him in the face was the last straw. He quickly turned you around before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, his arm wrapping tightly around your thighs. He wouldn’t take any more chances. He would not lose you again. After walking across the whole city, he had stopped in the middle of nowhere. When you heard the screech of his Dragon you felt tears burn behind your eyes. You truly had lost.

When he heaved you up onto the dragon, a lone tear rolled down your cheek. When he climbed up behind you, his arms immediately wrapping around you possessively the rest of your tears followed.

“Let’s go home, riñītsos.”

The third time he had made you cry was shortly after the second time. Instead of King’s Landing he had taken you to Dragonstone, locking you into one of the rooms before disappearing for a few days. The maids had been the only people you had seen over those days. They had washed you, dressed you and fed you, before disappearing again. On the fifth day, the Maids had entered your room in a rush, carrying a beautiful gown into your chambers before ushering you into the bathroom. A weird feeling had spread through your body; the gown looked like a wedding-gown, the feeling of nausea rushed over you, weakening your knees and if you hadn’t been seated in the hot water you would have surely fainted. The urge to throw up had grown worse when you were seated in front of the vanity, the maids working on your hair and applying some kohl and tint onto your trembling lips. Afterwards you were forced into the beautiful gown, the corset was tied tightly, and you had wished for the corset to completely cut of your airstream and suffocate you. But fate wasn’t that kind.

The maids had left you after that, but you hadn’t been left alone for long as the Rogue Prince entered your chambers with a wide grin on his face.

“Gods – you look beautiful, riñītsos. Have you missed me?” He came to stand behind you, his chest touching your back as he pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent.

When you had stepped away from him, he tutted his tongue, pulling you towards him again. You had tried your best to avoid looking him in the eyes, but you couldn’t help but look up when you felt the feeling of cold metal on your neck and chest. Your hand flew up to touch the necklace, looking down to see the beautiful ruby gemstones encased by dragon claws. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered as you examined it silently. “It’s my wedding gift.”

At the word wedding your whole body tensed up again. You had immediately started protesting, your hands frantically trying to unclasp the necklace, but the prince had only chuckled at your pathetic attempt. “No? What do you think will happen, if you start running again, little bird? Do you really think that you can escape me? Escape from Dragonstone?” The silence that had followed was loud, followed by a low, haunting chuckle. He had been right. You couldn’t escape.

That day you had cried in front of the sept as you were bound to the man you feared most in front of his gods. That day you had cried yourself to sleep after he had defiled you – after he had greedily taken everything from you until exhaustion finally took over you.

The fourth time he had made you cry was when Daemon had stormed into your chambers, an unreadable look on his face as he approached you with big steps. You had been scared, your body still sore from the previous night but instead of bending you over as he liked to do most of the nights, he had kneeled in front of you – hugging your body and pressing his face into your stomach.

“My little dragon. Thank you, ābrazȳrys.” He had said, before pressing soft kisses onto your stomach, his hands squeezing your bottom as he took in a deep breath. “The maester informed me you’re with child, little bird.”

His words had made your heart skip a bit, the feeling of anxiety threatening to consume your nerves as your eyes widened in shock. You were pregnant with his child.

“You are mine forever, riñītsos.”

The fifth time you had cried was when you caught him kiss his niece in a dark corridor – the pregnancy hormones had messed with your feelings you had told yourself as you had run back to the safety of the room. You had cried and cried, clutching onto the front of your dress at your heart’s betrayal. You had fallen for your captor. And your captor had cheated on you.

#hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #dark!daemon

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ranticore · 4 months

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I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

#dragonriders of pern #hi it's me again. this is my sketch dump blog (very new)#pernese dragon #pern

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ghouljams · 5 days

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The Price of Fire (Chapter 1) Rating: M Tags: John Price x f!OC(Lio/Witch), fae!Price, historic setting, magic, debts, witch oc, 3rd Person POV, slow burn, curses Summary: Ten years later Lio gets a house call from the man in the woods. Owing a debt to the witch-eater can't be good. prev part

Despite the weather raging outside the house, the inside of the cottage is warm. Lio tends to the hearth, the brilliant orange glow of it only matched in color by the mane of curls that sprout messily from her head. Over the coals a cauldron bubbles. The black iron is well loved and cared for, a heavy pot that hardly moves except to be taken outside and cleaned. Inside its black walls bubbles a milky mixture. Each bubble swirls with color before popping on the surface.

The cottage is small, but well lived in, homey. Just enough space for a family, or a witch of thirty with just the memories of one. Lio putters around the kitchen, occasionally stopping by the cauldron to give it a stir. She plucks herbs from the ceiling beams, counting the leaves carefully before dropping them into the bubbling mixture. It’s an easy dance for her, she knows the stems and stamens like the back of her hand. Each bottle and jar that lines her shelves has its name penned to the label in her careful hand, every herb wrapped by her fingers, and every spell woven on her lips.

Lio stops by under one of the wood beams holding up her small second floor. She frowns and glances up, sighing when she notices that the symbol carved into it has been eaten through. The sharp edges of magic chewed up and worked off as the year rounds out. With a huff she goes to grab a chair from the kitchen, dragging the wooden thing over and digging her athame into the beam to rework the spell.

When she finishes she goes back to her cauldron, checking the mixture before going back to her work in the kitchen. She glances out her back window. The fence around her garden is covered in snow that grows thicker with every passing minute. Usually so lush with life, now her garden is only represented by the mounds of snow which have piled on top of it. Lio leans her elbows against the prep table to watch the snow fall. She’s always loved the winter.

A time of death, but also the turning over of the year wheel. The start as well as the end. Good for staying inside and enjoying the solitude between patients. She thinks she’ll make some tea, storms make it unlikely for anyone to venture out to her little stretch of property unless it’s something truly dire. It’s a good day for restocking her stores, prepping potions and poultices before there’s a rush. She should boil some of the snow for a bath later, work some of the week’s tension out of her muscles.

A knock at the door draws Lio from her thoughts. She sighs. Winter is a time for sickness. It’s only unfortunate to know this one is bad enough to warrant a trek through the storm. She brushes her hands over her skirt, and picks her way towards her front door. She shoves things into more presentable places as she goes. It’s not a large house, but somehow it always feels messy. If her mother saw the state of this place…

Lio tugs the door open and has to look up from the dark shirt that fills her vision. She feels the pull of something sharp in her chest, her eyes widening as she meets a face she never expected to see again. Ice blue eyes with a golden ring crinkle at the edges as he smiles.

“Hello little witch,” The fae man drawls, he seems amused by her surprise.

He looks the same as the last time she saw him a hair more than a decade ago. His shoulders are still pulled proudly back, barrel chested and well groomed. Lio is caught by the memory of how firm he’d felt when she’d been pulled to his chest, how powerfully his arms had held her, and the thick grip of his fingers. Just the same. The fae are never touched by the years the way humans are. Yet his eyes had creases at the sides, his smile was tighter. The years may not touch him but the weight of them was certainly felt.

The man’s hand catches the door when Lio attempts to close it on him. His tongue clicks impatiently, scolding her like a child.

“Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” He asks, holding the door open as he leans to look at her.

His voice is as deep as she remembers. Made to lure unsuspecting women to their demise with all the dark promises he must purr in their ears. Lio doesn’t buy it. He must need something, there’s no other reason to visit a witch. Which only makes him less trustworthy.

“You’re no friend of mine,” Lio replies easily, pushing her weight against the door. It doesn’t budge, the man’s strength more than she can match. She huffs and gives it another shove. “Do you mind?”

“Of course,” The man grins, and pushes the door further open. His smile makes her heart skip a beat, his teeth aren’t as sharp as she thought they’d be. That doesn’t make them any less dangerous.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the debt you owe me.”

Lio winces at the word debt. She hadn’t forgotten, merely hoped it was too small to call on. After all, one little thank you is nothing. She knows people in the village that have stumbled into far worse. His finger wraps around the air between them, and like a curtain being opened, the veil is lifted. The golden strand between them glows brightly, a tight ache between her ribs that she knows she won’t be able to ignore by simply closing the door. Besides, she’s been rude enough to this fae, and the risk of further rudeness outweighs her desire to keep him in the cold. With a sigh she stands to the side and ushers him inside.

“I’ll make some tea, and you can tell me what you need.” She tells him as he moves past.

His steps are lighter and, Lio notes, he’s lost his wings. His horns are still there, darker now than they were before, and the soot on his fingers. It’s strange mourning someone else’s loss, Lio’s sure he had a good reason for getting rid of them. Curious, but it would be rude to press him. Instead Lio directs him to a chair, and sets about getting tea ready. She scoops water from a bucket into her kettle and settles it beside her cauldron over the hearth, taking a moment to stir the mixture. She scoops up a spoonful of the milky mix and eyes it, health tonics are so finicky.

“What should I call you?” Lio hums, still inspecting her potion.

“You know better than to ask that, Witch,” The fae responds.

Lio frowns, sticking her spoon back into the cauldron.

“If you’re looking for a spell I need to call you something.” She explains.

There’s a moment of silence as the fae thinks. Lio is patient, pulling bread and jam from her stores and settling it on the table between herself and the man. She takes her seat opposite him and smiles. He tips his head to inspect her, eyes dragging over her body in a way that makes her skin prickle. It’s not the first time a man has looked at her with such an intensity, but it is the first time she’s been unable to turn away. The fae leans back in his seat when he finishes his evaluation, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable. Lio ignores the thick expanse of his thighs in favor of slicing a piece of bread for herself. That feels safer.

“Price,” Price says finally.

“You’re a collector,” Lio glances up at him.

She’s heard too many stories of fae like him. Fae that subsist purely on the favors they can curry with humans. Favors that can never be repaid, leaving their human prey trapped in a debt they’ll never be free of. Price, the name is fitting for a man like him. The sort that seems to take delight in calling on something so small as a witch’s thanks. He even seems to delight in the sway he has to be welcomed into her home. The space he takes up, like he’s owed it, seems to expand the longer he’s sat there.

“And you owe me,” He reminds her.

“Only something small.”

“I might have saved your life,” Price argues, his tone good natured but his eyes hard, “who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t turned you back.”

“But you didn’t,” Lio smiles, “and I distinctly remember thanking you for the advice, nothing else.”

Price’s eyes spark, the gold in them cracking with some strange darkness. Lio holds her ground, holds his gaze even as he sits forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There’s something predatory in his posture, so relaxed and yet she can see the way his corded muscle is tensed. Ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

“It’s not very polite to intimidate your host, Mr. Collector.”

That seems to startle him from his glowering. Price’s smile softens into something more friendly and he gives a short nod.

“Price is fine.”

The low timbre of his voice makes a shiver run down Lio’s spine, one she does her best to suppress.

“Then tell me what you think I can do for you, Mr. Price.” She says, choosing her words carefully.

It takes a moment for Price to speak again. The kettle whistles in that time, and hot water is poured over tea leaves. Lio doesn’t fault him his hesitance, but it does spark her curiosity terribly.

“I’ve been cursed.” He tells her finally.

“Shocking.”

The word slips from her lips without her meaning it to. She hardly knows this man, she’s in no position to go casting judgement on him. Only it’s too easy to speculate the reasons for it. Surely Price has no shortage of debts that would be glad to be rid of him. The raise of his brows tells her he isn’t likely to be forthcoming with the details of exactly who cursed him. Unfortunate, it makes dispelling curses easier when she knows where they came from.

“Cursed how?” Lio asks, trying to be polite.

Another beat of silence, before Price sighs and stands. His fingers tug at the crossed threads that hold his shirt closed, loosening them enough to tug the garment over his head. Lio averts her gaze quickly, but not before the recognition of ice pulls her eyes back to his chest. She stands quickly, knocking her shin against the table with a short hiss of pain. A curse indeed. She moves more carefully towards him, her gaze fixed on the pattern of ice that crusts itself over his chest, over his heart.

“Didn’t notice it at first,” Price explains, “Thought it was just Winter ice.”

Lio presses her finger tips against the frost covering his skin. She glances up at Price, watching his face for any sign of pain as she examines him. She murmurs a warming word, her fingers glowing with the heat she pulls from the room, melting some of the ice. How long has he been living with this, she wonders. How quickly has this curse manifested that he decided to seek out a witch of all things. Lio’s hands smooth over his chest, the cool skin broken up by thick dark hair. She tries to feel for the root of the magic, the cause of all this.

“It’s my heart,” Price tells her before she can dig too deep. “Damn bitch,” He mutters to himself.

“Symptoms?” Lio ignores the comment, filing it away to turn over later.

“Ice.” Price says flatly. Lio is almost convinced he means it as a joke despite neither of them laughing. Price flicks his fingers, with a slight twitch to his eye.

“I can feel the cold in my blood, it’s freezing my joints, making me slow.” He says finally, “Not just movement, but my thoughts too. Feels like every pump of this damn thing makes me slower.”

“Freezing you from the inside out,” Lio nods, “anything else? Magic doesn’t like to stay contained to just one system.” Price’s wince is more obvious this time, his lips tight and his brows furrowed.

“Don’t feel anything,” He mumbles.

“Physical sensation, or-” Lio runs through her herb list, curses are tricky things but not incurable.

“Emotions, like havin’ a blanket thrown over ‘em, can’t pick anything out even when I do feel something.” Price sniffs, his eyes drift to Lio’s cauldron. “You’ve got a cure-all burnin’.”

Lio turns quickly to her hearth with a shout and rushes to stir her potion. The bubbles are sluggish, slow and unwilling to pop as she waves her hand over the surface. She stirs the spoon through it, whipping the mixture into a whirl quickly, and releases hold of the handle to turn her attention back to Price. Well, half her attention, the other half hovers with the spoon, stirring it without her guiding hand.

“That’s what tipped you off,” Lio hums, tapping her finger against her cheek as she studies Price.

The first thing to do is beat back the ice, warm his core, then maybe a hex breaker once the magic has been weakened. She’s dealt with curses before, animals and children are usually the victims, and almost as usually they’re easily dealt with. This one feels deeper. There’s a darkness to it, a deep throbbing wound of the soul that she can’t sink her fingers into. The problem is Price’s own magic. Fae are such tricky creatures already, their magic more intrinsic, bound to different rules, mixing with humans is already dicey but mixing with human magic? Not unheard of, but certainly difficult.

“Where’d you get this curse?” Lio presses. If she had more information, a better understanding of the magic at play, then she could work more easily on it. If he’d let her try to assess the magic clinging to him-

“Does it matter?”

“It always matters,” Lio tips her head, trying to keep a critical eye on the ice that grows from Price’s skin and not the skin itself.

“I only came here because you owe me a favor, if you can’t fulfill it I’ll ask for something else.” Price’s eyes are hard, unyielding. Lio meets his gaze with a raised brow, waiting on him to elaborate on what else he could possibly want from her.

“Plenty a man can ask from a woman, little witch.”

“Crude.” Lio replies shortly.

Price shrugs. It itches at Lio’s skin unpleasantly. A curse she can’t identify, a man who’s willing to keep bothering her, magic she can’t touch… It’s a recipe for disaster. Even if she helped she’d have to be overly cautious, and even then there’s no guarantee it would work. Which means an unfulfilled favor and another visit from her collector. She works the idea between her teeth, her lips twitching side to side, her nose wiggling.

He needs her, she thinks, needs her in some way he isn’t saying. Why else would a fae man come to visit a witch? Not to mention she’s young, a crone would be better suited to this task. It must be convenience. She owes him, he can pull on that debt to avoid questions a more experienced witch might ask. It stings a little, being needed but not being the first choice. It stings enough to make her want to prove herself wrong. She’ll be the best choice, the only choice.

“Alright,” Lio tells him, and Price’s shoulders relax, “but we’ll have to be cautious.”

“Cautious,” Price repeats, like he hadn’t heard her.

“We’ll start small, see how you react, what works, and go from there.”

Lio turns away from him, her mind already pulling herbs into a mental mortar. She waves her hand, the glass jars on the walls responding eagerly. Lids open, leaves and roots pulled from their container, plucked from the air by deft fingers. Lio deposits a few red spheres into her stone mortar and tops them with salt. This is as safe as she can be: external magic.

Price wanders to check her work, tugging his shirt over his head again. His eyes follow her movements, observational. He stops a jar in its movement to check the label. Anyone else and Lio might have thought they were curious to learn her craft, but she doesn’t get that feeling from Price. A man who would suffer a curse for months without notice is a man used to enemies. Poison, she thinks, he’s checking for poison.

Lio speaks as she works, “Sachets are a good first step. You draw a hot bath, toss it in and it works wonders.”

“Small magic,” Price grumbles.

“Not mine,” Lio assures him with a smile.

Somehow Price believes her. He can feel it in the air, can feel the warmth of her magic washing over him like the summer’s rain. It permeates every corner of the house, thrives in the corners, the rafters, the carved edges. He breathes deeply, inhaling the energy that weaves under her hands. All that potential from years ago, brimming to the surface with each passing day. The shallow pool he’d first felt when he met her, now felt as deep as a lock, the still waters stretching miles and miles deeper than the surface would suggest.

She’s growing into it, he thinks, growing stronger as her confidence matures. He always knew there was no sense in plucking unripened fruits, but this? This is proof of that. One little meal which could have fed him for a year at most, now laid itself out to him like a feast for decades. He’d be hard pressed to keep other witch-eaters away from his find, harder pressed avoiding his own appetite.

The witch holds up a bundle of rounded cheese-cloth bundles, each one tied tightly with a red string. They’re warm when settled into his waiting palm. Small magic, he tries to remind himself. The radiant glow of whatever she’d put in there already seems to be relieving the ache in his fingers. Price does his best to remain reluctant at the offered magic. The witch’s pretty face twitches, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“If it doesn’t work,” She tells him, “You can come back for something stronger.”

Wouldn’t that be a pity, a fae like him reliant on a witch’s kindness.

“I will,” He warns her, “a life for a life.”

“Just advice,” She grins, and it sparks something in his chest, a dull throb beneath the ice, “but if you ever do save me, I’ll be sure to repay you for that as well.”

divider by @/saradika

#x oc #cod x oc #1fae1 #fae au #oc: witch #captain price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #captain price x oc #john price cod #john price x oc #female oc #anyway.... here's more of these two #because I'm in my depression era and can only work on things that have been outlined already

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emphistic · 17 days

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Écoute Chérie

A/N: grr

<- Series m.list

When a certain someone — specifically a blond male, showed up to Sukuna’s door that next morning holding a wad of cash in his hand, Sukuna wanted nothing more than to sock him in the jaw. But he contained himself, saying, “Keep that shit for yourself. I don’t want it.”

“Oh? You backing out now, Captain?”

“. . .You’re one sick fuck, Zen’in.” He snatched the money out of the younger’s hands, before slamming his door shut.

Pride is a terrible, terrible thing, and Ryomen Sukuna was full of it.

“Oh, my God, girl! I feel like we moved on a little too quickly. Pause: He—you—you guys KISSED? Stop, don’t—don’t play with me right now. I can’t even get a guy to let me cheat off of him on a final, but you kissed someone on the FIRST date. Let me say that again, FIRST date?! As in the first EVER date you two have been on together.”

If you were counting — which you weren’t, this would have been the seventy-ninth time you giggled out loud this evening. You and Nobara were sitting — no, standing, actually, with you leaning forward with your elbows on the counter, and the brunette doing likewise. You decided — well, you were forced — to fill her in on all that happened the day before. You had just gotten off of your shift, and, obviously, were still in your uniform, but Nobara insisted you tell her anyway. She wouldn’t and “couldn’t” wait until you got back to your apartment.

“Yes, Nobs, for the hundredth time. We kissed and even added a little bit of tongue and then he walked me back to my apartment and we fucked all night.”

The look on her face was absolutely priceless, her jaw dropped to the floor and even broke through the tiles and went further beneath the surface. Just kidding; because that’s not possible, but her expression was even more funny after you said, “I’m just messing with you, girl. I have some self-worth left, believe it or not, and I wouldn’t sleep with someone after the first date.”

“Funny how you decided to deny only that part.”

“. . .”

“Don’t—don’t tell me the rest was true. Oh, my God! STOP! I was only kidding; but you—you actually added tongue? What the fuck? And, you just decided to not call me right after? Wow.” Nobara crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air for only a few seconds before she went back to gripping your shoulders and shaking your body. “You are such a freak, my God.”

“He also walked me to my door, y’know. No need to focus on only those parts.” You tried to bring her focus onto that, because you found that part the most adorable.

Truth was, the only reason you didn’t immediately call Nobara that night was because you spent the last few hours of that night screaming into your pillow like a schoolgirl and reminiscing on all that happened.

“You know,” you started, turning to face the man behind you, “you didn’t have to walk me all the way to my door, right? I could’ve just gone by myself.”

You had insisted and insisted to Sukuna that you would be fine, and that the other residents of the building were friendly and cordial, but Sukuna ignored every one of your pleas and walked right next to you anyway. From the parking lot, to the elevators, and down the hallway, Sukuna never left your side, and actually, was surprisingly nice company. You two talked on the way about how good or bad the food at the game was, how hot and humid it was, how annoying the older gentleman beside your seats was, you two talked plenty enough.

“I know. I wanted to.” Sukuna stopped to lean against the wall beside your apartment, crossing his arms as you pulled out your keys.

“Hey, so, I had a lot of fun today. I guess baseball isn’t as boring as I thought it was,” you laughed, scratching the back of your neck. “Thanks for inviting me.” You had tried to tell him on the car ride to your place, but you chickened out.

Sukuna snorted, “No problem; my pleasure, actually. And, I had a lot of fun, too. I think I enjoyed today more than I would if Yuuji was there instead of you. So thank you for coming.”

“Oh, please. Don’t lie; he’s literally your brother. Besides, Yuuji’s not even here to defend himself. Kinda rude, if I say so myself.”

“I’m not lying, though, really. I enjoyed today. I can’t even remember the last time I was able to leave the house for anything fun and actually, sincerely, enjoy it.” Sukuna moved his head as he spoke, as if in a way to accentuate his point. You found that completely and utterly adorable. Just the thought of you being part of making his day alone made you blush, and you looked away sheepishly.

“I’m glad you had a nice time, Sukuna. And thank you, again, for today.” You caught Sukuna by surprise — beyond surprise, actually — when you cupped his face in your hands and brought your lips to his cheek for a chaste kiss. Mwah! The sound was audible through the night. And it was the sound which replayed over and over in Sukuna’s mind as he lay completely awake for hours past midnight in bed. The only thing he dreamt of — when he eventually fell asleep, that is — was you. You.

Now that he thought of it, there were no words to describe you. No words to describe your beauty, though, ethereal did come close. No words to describe the smile which you gave him when you two passed each other on campus. No words to describe how friendly and comforting the melody of your voice sounded to him; if you were a siren, and he, a pirate, Sukuna would dive headfirst into the water. No words to describe how drunk, how dizzy, how pathetic you made Sukuna, even with mere eye contact. But, there was a word to describe Sukuna.

It’s quite simple, actually.

Sukuna was whipped. Absolutely enamored of you. But. . . Very unfortunate he only noticed now. And, it was such, such a shame that he was also full of pride.

“Okay, that’s so romantic, though! I can’t believe it. My friend is gonna get with the love of her life, and I don’t even know how to turn the stove on. Oh, my God. My friend’s getting with the love of her life. OH, MY GOD!” That was not even close to the last time you would hear Nobara say “Oh, my God” that night.

“You wouldn’t happen to . . . y’know . . . have plans . . . this weekend?”

You didn’t know why Sukuna kept on pausing, but you knew it was oddly suspicious.

“And if I did?”

“Then, I wouldn’t ask you to . . . help me . . . with some . . . math.”

“Sukuna, are you okay? You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint.” You crossed your arms, failing to stifle a giggle. You really couldn’t fathom why he was acting so strange. Sukuna couldn’t, either.

Ever since the day you both went to that baseball game together, Sukuna’s been different, to say the least. And yeah, maybe after kissing someone for the first time changes your behavior towards them, but still, it was strange.

He wasn’t as cocky when going over his daily feats at basketball practice; he wasn’t as blunt and insulting to freshmans whom you two came across while on campus; he wasn’t as teasing or sharp with his remarks as he usually was; he wasn’t as assertive and casual whilst slinging an arm ‘round your shoulder. He wasn’t him. Then again, Sukuna also didn’t know why he was acting this way.

“I’m . . . fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay. . . Anyways, I am free. So yeah, I can. My place or yours?”

“Ah, you don’t have a lot of good alcohol,” Sukuna tapped his index finger repeatedly on his chin, as if contemplating which location to use was very difficult for someone like him. “I get bored with just water. So, it’ll have to be mine. ‘Sides, I don’t think Gigi likes me that much anyway.”

You laughed. Sukuna wasn’t very keen on having you tutor him while your apparently “murderous” cat was present. Giselle, also known by her nickname ‘Gigi’, was a black-furred breed, with very sharp, untrimmed nails, which proved useful whenever Sukuna came over to hang out with you or do some other shit. Maybe it was because of how provocative Sukuna and his usual cold demeanor were. Maybe it was because of how close Sukuna got to Gigi’s owner whenever you sat down on the couch together. Maybe it was because of the fact Sukuna took your attention off of your so precious cat whenever he stepped foot into the apartment. Maybe it was because Sukuna was just Sukuna. And Gigi didn’t like that one bit.

“Alright, since you’re afraid of a mere feline, which — mind you, is less than a quarter of both your height and size.”

“Well, that feline comes from the depths of Hell. So yeah, excuse me if I prefer to stay sixty miles away from it.”

“Gigi comes from Hell, now? Pfft—she’s probably just excited to see her previous neighbor, then,” you snorted.

Sukuna gave you a side glance, hiding his growing grin. He was not about to openly admit you were even slightly funny. No, he would never give you that kind of satisfaction.

“Okay, so can you tell me what the variable ‘d’ is?” You had explained the formulas as best as you could, even taking it a step further and dumbing it down immensely. Then you left the living room to put away the dishes, leaving the pink-haired male to attempt his assignment on his own. — With some guidance here and there.

Sukuna and you had ordered Chinese, deciding to study while eating. And while your plan for energizing proved to be frustrating at first — since a certain someone didn’t know how to eat with his mouth closed, you had become used to it by the end. Your tactic? Drowning out the audible chewing noises. Eugh.

“Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll show you.” Sukuna leaned his head on the cushions, wrapping an arm around the back of the sofa.

You scrunched up your face in reply, pausing in the middle of scrubbing food and gunk and whatever off of the porcelain plates. “Pass.

“I told you already, Sukuna. The exponential functions are the ones that slowly curve up; think of it as this: good things happen to a bad thing. Get it? Like, their lives are getting better. And, since I know you’ve already forgotten, a ‘y’ value can have as many ‘x’ values, but the ‘x’ value is . . . unambiguous, so it only has one ‘y’ value. Now, does that help?”

“Ugh, this is such a bore. How can anyone pay attention to these types of things long enough in class to be good at it? Fuck.”

You took his consequent silence as him giving up on life and continuing to work on solving the problem in his evident misery, but oh, how wrong you were.

“S’kuna, what are you doing?” you sucked in a breath. He was so close. So close, to you. You thought it had only been two seconds, but in those two seconds, it only took Ryomen Sukuna four easy strides to end up here. — With his chest pressed almost right up against your back. Key word: almost. Yes, Ryomen Sukuna was so close, but still, so far.

“Helping you.” God, did he have to be that ambiguous all the time? He was like a walking enigma, a puzzle, a riddle, for you to solve. A mystery for which you would soon lose sleep over.

Sukuna easily grabbed several dried plates, removing them from the rack, and storing them in the cabinet above your head. His hand left lingering touches on your arm as they passed by each other. You slowly, gradually, accumulated a mountain of goosebumps.

It was infuriating.

He was so close, but not close enough.

Every time he moved to grab another plate, he would rest his hand upon your hip or on the curve of your waist. Sometimes he ran his large-scaled hands up your middle; sometimes he moved them lower, and lower. Was he trying to give you heart palpitations?

“Y’know,” he started, his voice dripping with honey, “you can keep breathing, right? What, do I smell that bad?” he snickered.

“I—what—why—what the hell are you doing?” You wanted to argue that he had no sense of personal space, which, yes, was true, but you feared he would stop whatever he was doing at the moment. And, you didn’t want that.

“I’m . . . helping . . . you.” He bent down to your level, lips brushing your ear as he spoke, and his hot breath fanning your ear.

There it was again. That ‘pausing thing’ of his. But, this time, it was different. Earlier he was pausing as if he was unsure, but now, he was pausing just to create suspense and further rile you up. He clearly knew what he was doing; he knew what he was doing to you. Poor ol’ you, who just innocently wanted to wash some dishes.

You had previously wanted to turn around and properly face him in order to confront him better, but now, you didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not like you could, anyway, you were stuck between the counter and him. Your eyelashes fluttered, as your eyes darted here and there. And your palms began to sweat, you quickly wiped them on the material of your sweater, but your continued attempts were futile.

“No—no, you’re not.” You struggled to stifle your heavy breathing, and it took you quite a time to form a sentence without giving away the tight feeling in your chest.

“Yeah? Then, how could I help you, hm? Tell me,” he spoke your name firmly, like he was anticipating your breaking, and egging you on nevertheless. Then again, how could he not be? It had been days, days, since you two went to that game. Days since he felt like he was in heaven and talking to an angel. Days since he felt your lips on his. Days since he felt well. Days. And for days, he’s been restless, hungry, thirsty, empty. Hell, forget about your predicament, he was the one close to breaking.

“Tell me,” he said your name, again. “Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me.”

“. . .You can help by telling me what the fuck we’re doing right now.”

“Don’t you already know? And here, I thought it was obvious.” Sukuna bit his lip, but that didn’t help any bit in suppressing his laugh.

“What . . . are we . . . doing?” You repeated.

Sukuna was silent, for a moment, “You’re tutoring me, on math.”

“I already know that, dumbass. I mean, what are we doing?”

“You’re gonna need to be a little more specific than that.”

“Oh, my God—what are we doing? What are we? For fuck’s sake. How thick is your skull really, damn.” You finally mustered the courage to twist your body around, and though you were only met with his chest, you sighed and looked upward to meet his face.

“That’s a little harsh.”

You glowered at Sukuna.

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk,” he cleared his throat. “We’re . . . just us. I don’t know what to tell you. Sukuna and you. You and Sukuna. That’s all there is to it, right?”

For a second, you thought he was referencing what you had previously said to Nobara, but then the rational side of your brain kicked in and said, “No, there’s no way he could’ve overhead that,” and so, the surprised expression disappeared from your face as you looked down at the floor of the kitchen.

“We’re friends, yeah, that’s all there is to it. . . But friends don’t do . . . this. So we clearly, definitely, shouldn’t be doing this.”

“So, we can pretend we’re not doing this, right? There, fixed the problem.”

“And if I don’t want to pretend we’re not doing this?”

“Then don’t; we don’t have to pretend.”

“But—”

“Please,” he looked at you with such an earnest expression on his features, “don’t say that word. Not again. You’ve no idea, no idea, how much it drives me crazy when you say that word. Mad, insane, deranged. Anything but that, please, anything. We’re clearly not friends. We’re clearly not just friends. So please, don’t call whatever we have as that. I’m sick of it.”

“If we’re not friends, then, what are we?” Your voice was just above a whisper, and you couldn’t even recall when it turned out that way.

“. . .We’re whatever you want us to be. . . What do you want us to be?”

“No, you decide, Sukuna. What do you want us to be?” You gingerly laid a palm on top of his chest.

“I decide?”

You nodded, “Whatever you want to be . . . will be.”

“I want us to be . . . us. Together. Just us. No one else; just you and me.”

“Okay. I’d like that.”

He took your hand from his chest and held it in his, as if in a way to seal his promise. “I’m glad.”

Having had a couple beers — in favor of Sukuna giving up on attempting any more math, you were a little drunk. Just a little.

“You have a stupid, stupid face, but it’s still my favorite. It’s my favorite to stare out. It’s my favorite to kiss. It’s my favorite to rub — your skin is so soft. It’s my favorite. My favorite.”

He let you pepper as many pecks as you wanted onto his cheek, but when you tried to give Sukuna a proper kiss on the lips, he quickly moved his face to the side so you unintentionally planted your lips on his cheek instead.

For, he didn’t want you to freak out in the morning and think he was the type of guy to take advantage of someone while they were even a little bit tipsy.

Besides, he had just gotten you. He couldn’t lose you now, could he.

A/N: i love portraying raw emotion

#my writing is HEAVY on stylistic choice #so it can be quite hard to read at times #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #i think???

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stxrvel · 5 months

Text

i don't wanna live forever (2)

summary: you and Steve share some time together after so much time apart, and you finally start getting closer to your goal back in Europe after so many years

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warning: just some bad words

note: hey guys! hope u guys like this part! we're getting close to the mythic winter soldier >:). i'll try to edit and publish next part tomorrow after work. i'm close to finish this fic, probably will be 6-7 chapters. so i'll see you around, thank you for the support <3

part 1 ; part 3 ; part 4

You thought having Steve back would make things better. Not that they were any worse, but there couldn't have been a worse time to go through a goddamn alien invasion.

“Holy shit,” you spoke into the air, but Steve at your side elbowed you, hearing you clearly, his scowl meeting you amidst the masses of air. “Are you seeing what I see?”

“Do you have to say it like that?“

“Ah, poor, right Steve. God save him from hearing a bad word because a little star on his suit will die,” Tony Stark walked past you, catching up to overhear the conversation, teasing you with a smirk on his face. You tensed as he passed behind you, shaking your head to avoid his gaze, earning you a confused look from Steve.

Tony continued on his way, currently accustomed to you not even glancing his way when they were in the same place. His suit was almost completely shredded, an unfamiliar feeling of dread coursing through you from the pit of your stomach until you felt the heartburn in the back of your throat bother you. Ever since you saw on the news that he was proclaimed Ironman, that feeling of dread had been with you every time you saw him. You knew why, but you didn't want to give voice to those thoughts…

“For a person who's lived this many years, you're pretty bad at dissembling,” Steve spoke again as Tony disappeared down the hallway and you shook your head shutting him up, refocusing on what was important. “I can't believe I crashed a plane into the Arctic just to get this thing back to the surface before me.”

“Well, it'll be in good hands now,” you nodded in the direction of the approaching Norse god, his walk a bit overbearing as he dedicated sidelong glances at them as he approached the scepter of Loki, his brother.

“If you're done admiring it, time to go.”

Steve moved in the direction of the elevator, waving his hand for you to join him, but you shook your head in refusal and pointed him to the stairs. Your friend didn't read too much into your gesture, lifting a shoulder and resuming his walk to where the rest of the team was grouped. Just looking at them, you remembered the smug smile Fury had given you when you agreed, finally, to be part of the team, after learning that Steve would be too. He was damn lucky, that's all, because that wouldn't happen again. What were the odds of two alien invasions happening in one year, after all?

After they delivered the scepter and Loki, you'd be long gone from there, focusing on your primary mission in getting into SHIELD in the first place, which Fury had as much knowledge of as you did.

“Hey,” you greeted Steve again, meeting him just after the Norse gods disappeared.

“Hey,” he approached, wearing that brown leather jacket he hadn't let go of since the moment he touched it. The team was taking their leave behind him, each focusing on their own business from now on. As you crossed glances with Natasha Romanoff, that feeling of familiarity coursed through your body once again. It was odd, you were sure you had seen her sometime before. “Do you want a ride?”

You saw Steve shake his head in the direction of his motorcycle, moving faster than him as you sensed Tony was approaching to say goodbye.

“Is something wrong with your friend?” you heard him speak and as each time you couldn't help but compare his voice to Howard. They were so alike in their youth and adulthood. You didn't even want to think about becoming a close person in his life when you knew what you knew. If he found out about it through other means it would be a disaster. As much as you wanted to look out for his safety, perhaps as Howard would've liked, you didn't want to cross that line without figuring out all the loose ends first. That would be a problem if Fury ever thought of summoning them back.

“She's shy,” Steve replied, and you had to hold back the urge to reach back and pat his head. “Big fan of yours.”

“Really?” Tony sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought she hated me.”

“No, not at all. She studied some mechanical stuff too and admires your work from afar. But you know, never meet your idols,” you could make out Steve's smile behind your words, inwardly wincing with embarrassment.

“Well, I'm not that bad. Tell her anytime she wants we can talk.”

You heard no more of their conversation, feeling the bile travel down your esophagus to the back of your throat. How Tony could look at you and not recognize you as the strange woman who sat next to him at his father's wake was completely beyond you, but you weren't too intrigued if it helped you stay away. You didn't want him to start asking questions.

When you heard Steve's footsteps approach and the doors of Tony's red car close, you turned around to face your friend, his face of fake innocence angering you a little.

“You're an asshole,” you spat the words at him almost in a half-whisper, afraid that for some reason Tony might hear them.

“There's not that much of a lie in what I said,” the blond barely lifted a shoulder, mounting his motorcycle.

“You could've simply told him the truth: I do dislike him.”

“That's not true,” Steve shook his head, starting the motorcycle after you got on behind him.

“How could you know that?”

“He's Howard's son,” Steve blurted out, your movements slowing as you tried to get comfortable looking at him in the bike's mirror. “You couldn't hate him, even if you wanted to.”

You didn't rebut, not because he was right, but because it was the first time he'd mentioned Howard since you'd seen him after almost seventy years.

Since you'd run into him in that secret section of SHIELD, you two hadn't had much time for you to fill him in on the things that had happened, Fury jumping into the action directly telling them that the object Steve sacrificed his life for was back in the hands of the enemy and they needed to stop him. You could barely tell him about Howard's death and about Peggy as they were thrown onto the battlefield.

Now, as Steve drove you back to your apartment, all you could think about was that you still hadn't had time to have that talk. That talk where you would have to tell him a lot of things.

The smell of lavender that prevailed in your apartment did little to calm the little anxiety you felt the moment Steve closed the door behind him. A strange tension surrounded your shoulders and you were sure he felt it too, by the odd way he cleared his throat, moving into the living room, where he seemed to almost touch the ceiling of how small everything was.

“Nice place,” he commented absently, eyeing the paintings and colorful bookshelves you had in the living room and dining room.

“Sit. Want some coffee?” you ran to the kitchen, looking to escape that searing uncertainty.

“Water's fine.”

Fine. Water it is.

Returning to the living room, you found him mounted in your largest armchair, his knees too bent toward his chest for all the space he took up.

“So…”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Straight to the point. You didn't blame him, he must have been too curious. You didn't even know how he'd spent those days swallowing the urge to ask.

So you got straight to the point. You told him everything that happened after he crashed the plane. You told him about his funeral, about how the government started chasing you so hard that you had to leave the country and you kept going for years only because of Howard; you told him about how Peggy went on with her life, working, founding SHIELD many years later with Howard; you told him about Howard dying in a car accident, the half-truth burning your throat. Steve didn't even think anything was wrong by the way your voice cracked and you fought to keep the tears inside, what you were realizing was harder now that he was here. You told him that you came back from Europe thanks to Peggy, as head of SHIELD, making sure to keep you under her protection, and currently you still were. Maybe you had as much power as the Director himself because of how much Peggy saw to it that the Feds didn't bother.

You told him about Peggy getting sick, about her Alzheimer's. You told him how she hardly remembered things now; she had few lucid moments and forgot things very quickly. You gave him a moment to assimilate the information when you noticed his eyes sparkling.

“But she… did she live well?”

“Very well,” you nodded, smiling sincerely.

Steve nodded, letting a little tension escape from his shoulders. The silence that enveloped you two was a little more pleasant, leaving room for you to stop overthinking about what you should and shouldn't tell Steve.

“And you… what did you do all those years in Europe?” Steve was perceptive to take the one topic you didn't delve into at all, and you sighed in defeat. “It was… what, forty-five years?”

“Yes,” you nodded in the middle of a sigh, your gaze returning to the black TV screen, Steve's eyes fixed on your profile. “I studied a lot.”

“I assumed so, but was that all?”

“You might say. I studied nine majors,” you counted mentally, remembering the pictures that were stored somewhere in that apartment, courtesy of Peggy and Howard.

Steve whistled, a short laugh following his surprised expression.

“And why didn't you want to talk about that?”

“It's not that interesting-”

“Not that interesting? Better tell me what grades you have,” Steve grumbled, not giving way for you to try to avoid the subject one more time. Being that you had only talked about it with Peggy before, you took an inspiration to remember what it was like to tell her to reminisce with Steve.

“I started with some basics. Bachelor's degrees in math, physics and chemistry. Then I moved on to some engineering: mechanical, electronics, mechatronics. Astronomy, criminology, some marketing to survive when I went back to the States and they were in the middle of the technology revolution. I was studying medicine when Peggy called me back.”

“What year?”

“First one.”

“Wow,” Steve looked at you, as if he suddenly had to see you in a different light, his eyebrows still raised in surprise. “That's amazing. You know a little bit about everything.”

“Yeah, it really helped me get some good jobs and break even so Howard and Peggy didn't have to spend so much,” you nodded in his direction, his gaze intent on everything you were saying.

“I'm glad they took such good care of you,” Steve gave a lopsided smile, the warmest, most memory-evoking smile he could have given you.

“I wish I could've repaid them for all they did for me,” you commented, with a tone of remorse and sadness that Steve picked up on instantly.

“I'm sure they were more than satisfied to know you were okay. That was their priority. You know you couldn't make those decisions for them, right?”

You nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

Steve took in all the information you had to give him like a sponge, surely thinking that after seeing an alien invasion nothing could be that surprising. You guys spent a good while there, relaxing in your living room, placing food orders when the conversation turned to movies and series that Steve knew nothing about.

You spent an excellent rest of the day, Steve asking the odd question here and there, until you decided to watch the Star Wars movies first at the blond's request. You felt like they were back in '43 again, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, dreaming of the possibility of a life beyond what their social context allowed them.

Perhaps your dream was fulfilled in the most unexpected way possible.

The days ahead were now to be very careful. Steve would be spending more time at SHIELD, being that it would become basically his full-time job, and you needed to likewise spend time there focusing on your primary mission.

“What?”

Fury's eyebrows inched up, his face showing disbelief enough to make you doubt your decisions for a second, his forearms resting on his desk leaning forward. You shook your head slightly, maintaining your posture.

“I'm not going to tell him.”

“Why the hell not?” Fury raised his voice, as if for some reason your decision affected him personally.

“Because I don't want to, Nicholas. And I need you to help me cover it up.”

“Ah,” the man slumped back in his black chair, one hand rubbing his forehead as if the subject caused him as much of a headache as it did her. “Not only do you have to lie, but you have to lump me in the lying sack with you.”

“I'm not lying…! That much…”

“You do know that lies have short legs? What are you going to do when he finds out?”

“Nicholas, I need you to understand that Steve is not my priority right now. It's been twenty-one years and we haven't made any progress. I need to get to the fucking bottom of this, because whoever is behind it is still out there. I'm sure of it.”

Fury pursed his lips, barely shaking his head in a subtle nod, reluctanly agreeing with you finally.

“I'll put Steve on the front lines of every mission I can find,” Fury conceded to your request, his index finger tapping the wood of his desk like clockwork.

“Thank-”

“But you,” he raised his hand, pointing that index finger at you accusingly, interrupting your genuine thanks, “you're going to have to start thinking outside the box.”

“I have some guesses, actually.”

Fury rested his arms on the edge of the desk, leaning over to give you his undivided attention.

“Enlighten me.”

“So you're going back to Europe,” was the first thing you heard Steve say when you met him at SHIELD, two months after extreme missions he had to attend, barely spending a day at the facility before leaving again.

At first you thought Fury was overdoing it and offered to talk to him if he wanted to slow down, but surprisingly Steve was fine with it. In fact, he told you that it helped him deal with all the stress of having been in the Arctic for seventy years, and since you hadn't been through anything like that, you weren't going to judge.

“Yeah, evil doesn't rest,” you smiled absently at him, holding tightly to the strap of the black travel suitcase with enough belongings for a whole year.

“You know I already have a phone, right? You can call me,” Steve commented, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and shaking it in front of her to emphasize his request.

“Yeah, you gave me your number last week.”

“Ah, I just wanted to remind you because it's been five days since we've seen each other and I just found out you're going on a one-way trip,” his reproachful voice, but with some amused tones in there somewhere, made you wince as you remembered that you had indeed forgotten to inform your friend that you were going away, for quite a long time. In your defense, you had already gone too many years without telling anyone anything, and you were just getting used to having a friend to talk to more often again.

“Sorry,” you offered him an embarrassed smile, barely earning the shake of his head from side to side. “I'll bring lots of gifts from Europe, I promise.”

You raised your free hand to the level of your head, smiling more confidently at him, with his you better response echoing in your head as you averted your gaze to find behind him Tony Stark walking directly towards where you two were standing. There was no way you could run away from the inevitable interaction with the mechanic without overlooking saying goodbye to Steve, when you weren't going to see him for probably a long time. So you tensed up, the blond reading your body language long before you realized you were being too obvious.

And just as Steve was about to turn around, Tony patted his shoulder in salute.

“Nice to see you again,” through his sunglasses, he smiled openly at you, and you had to force a tight-lipped smile under Steve's tense gaze on you. “What are they up to now? Fury called me in for a confidential thing, won't I be teaming up with you guys?”

You were quick to shake your head, Steve barely muttering a no, amused to see you so dazed and nervous in front of the mechanic.

“That's too bad. I don't think-” Tony interrupted his own words as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Answering it right in front of them, you shrank in place trying to run away from there. “Happy.”

“Tony,” the man on the other end of the line didn't sound so happy to hear it unlike Tony, who had a big smile on his face. “Why are you forwarding my calls?”

“What? No, of course not. It's just that you're on my blocking contacts when I activate do not disturb and since I was driving…” Stark lifted a shoulder, indifferent to the looks you and Steve shared in front of him.

The other line on the phone was silent for a few seconds until chaos broke out.

“Pourquoi tu ne réponds pas aux appels? Pourquoi pas une urgence? Et si ta maison était en feu?” Happy grumbled from the other end, Tony scowling at the phone as if it was the fault of technology.

“Happy, how many times do I have to tell you to stop talking to me in French? I don't under-”

“He's asking you to answer the phone when you call, maybe someday it will be an emergency,” you translated before you could stop yourself, biting your tongue when Steve sent you a raised eyebrow look with a playful smile.

“You know French?” Tony addressed you, probably as surprised as you were because it was the first time you'd actively addressed him.

“She studied mechanics in France,” your friend spoke before you could think of anything on your own, and you had to physically battle to restrain your body from punching him in the face.

Steve had to stop doing that.

“Wow. Impressive,” Tony shook his head in nods, detailing her with his eyes with genuine curiosity.

“Tony!” Happy's voice interrupted the moment that felt tense, and Tony refocused on the reason he'd entered the SHIELD facility in the first place.

“Ah,” the mechanic grumbled, moving to continue on his way. “See you guys later.”

He waved his hand as he walked, turning his back to them and you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared down the hallway. At least he was still alive.

When you looked back at Steve, that strange smile hadn't disappeared from his face.

“What other language do you speak?”

He looked like a child, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“I'm not going to talk to you right now.”

You held the strap of the suitcase to sling it over your shoulder and walk in the direction of the exit, when Steve snatched it out of your hands and slung it over his own shoulder, his offended look being the only thing you got back.

“Why not?”

“You need to stop saying those things to Tony,” you frowned at him, lowering your voice as if, again, the mechanic might hear them. “Don't you know that lies have short legs?”

Steve laughed like you’d never heard before, probably not even in the forties, taking his stomach for a laugh. When you went out to the avenue and he followed you with sporadic laughter, you could not help but outline your own smile, missing in advance the time you spent with him.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Steve shook his head, his face red from laughing so much. He was barely calming down when you managed to stop a cab.

“You’re an idiot,” you snatched the suitcase from his hands and gave it to the taxi driver who had just gotten out of his car. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily this time,” Steve joked, approaching to wrap you in a big hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, even though you had to stand on your toes to hug him tightly. The serum hadn’t given you as much height as he had. “Call me, write me or just let me know how you are. At least once a day.”

“Yeah dad,” you walked away, breaking the hug and shaking your hands casually. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Take care.”

“Sure. You take care of Peggy,” his eyes softened, the mere memory of Peggy returning him.

“Of course.”

His warm smile was the last thing you saw before getting into the cab.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier

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whiskey-bumblebee · 11 months

Text

Uptown Girl (part two)

Pairing: dbf!Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Accessibility/Diversity notes: 99% gender neutral, but one use of 'she' for reader. Reader can swim.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Implied (public) sex, smut, dbf!hotch (reader is an adult).

A/N: The daybed I'm imagining is like this

Tagging: @ssamorganhotchner @hausofwhores <3

"Slow down," You breathe.

"Sorry, sorry," Hotch replies.

When he pulls away from you, his lips are puffy, his hair is mussed, and the collar of his polo is completely off-centre. You smile and run your fingers through his hair affectionately, smoothing it flat again.

"Pretty boy," You murmur, and he blushes under your attention.

"Do you want to swim?"

You eye the pool behind Aaron's head. It looks inviting, the blue almost as nice as the Caribbean. Almost. The pool floatie also looks inviting, and that's when you realize that you're looking for an excuse.

Aaron shuffles slightly up the daybed, until his hips are between your legs, rather than his face. You run your fingertips over his bare shoulders, taking in each freckle atop his skin. Thanks to the warm weather, and your afternoon in the sun, his skin was warm, and seemed to be taking on a bit of colour.

"If I'm doing a bad job, you can tell me," He kisses your neck affectionately, trailing kisses over your chest.

You laugh. "No, not at all. I just wanted to talk."

The gauzy white curtains flap in the breeze, sending cool air over your bodies.

He rolls off your body and relaxes on the sheets beside you. You bite your lip as your eyes rake over his body. He's shirtless, a sheen of sweat over his skin, and his jeans are hanging low on his hips. It's with a pang of guilt that you notice his prominent erection. He notices you noticing him, and reaches for one of the many throw pillows on the bed.

You laugh as he moves the pillow in front of his hips, obscuring your view.

"Damn, you're tempting," You sigh. "And you're good. I just don't know if I can come in public."

You gesture around your pool area, which is, of course, empty. Having sex in the open air is erotic, yes, but it's also cast a shadow of self-consciousness over you. Your neighbours are miles away, but you never know who might be testing a new drone, or whether one particularly loud moan might carry through the summer air to some unwitting person's ears.

"What did you want to talk about?"

You bite your lip again, nudging at the throw cushion which he's still holding in place. Hotch laughs, but holds firm.

"C'mon, talk to me. I promise I'll make love to you later." There's a boyish grin on his face, but that doesn't stop your stomach from dropping at his words.

Practiced as ever, you plaster on the wild child smile. You slip away from Aaron and dive into the pool. Aaron chases you, which you know without even having to look. Sure enough, once you surface, you see the ripples from his splash radiating to the edges of the pool, and you watch as his body glides towards you, under the water.

He runs his hands up your calves, then your thighs, settling on your hips as he swims to the surface. He doesn't even have to ask; as soon as his head pops out of the water, you brush his hair back so he can see.

He smiles at the gesture as he opens his eyes, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"You're avoiding me."

"You've been giving me head for the last ten minutes," You hold your grin in place, but it's starting to falter. "We have different definitions of avoidance."

He says your name slowly, and your grin finally fades. Your mouth falls into a frown, and his expression quickly matches yours.

"Hey," He says, rubbing his thumbs in circles.

"I don't think I can look at you and say the things I need to say," You breathe, dropping your hands over his.

He nods, and swims over to the stairs in the shallow end. He takes a seat roughly in the middle, so that his chest is above the water, but the rest of his body is submerged. Propping his elbow on the edge, he rests the side of his head against his hand.

You slip onto a floatie, lying on your back and pulling your sunglasses over your face so you can look at the sky comfortably. The sun immediately undoes the cooling effect of the water.

"I'm listening," He says, and you're not sure whether you're hearing his dad voice or his profiler voice. It seems too gentle to be interrogative, but there's an edge of seriousness.

"So, you came over," You start, unsure exactly how to phrase your thoughts.

"I did," He replies.

"And I'm really glad, and I'd like you to stay, as long as you can. And I really," You can't help but laugh. "I really would like you to make love to me, if this doesn't completely kill the vibe."

You take a deep breath, dropping one of your hands into the water so you can run your fingers through it.

"But it's only because I made up an excuse."

"It isn't," He interjects. "I'm here because I was desperate to see you. You know that. I missed you while you were in New York."

You sigh.

"I want you... I want you to be here because you want to be here. Not because I called and you came."

He says your name again, dragging out the last syllable.

"Aaron," You reply before he can interrupt again, and you take another deep breath, steadying yourself. "I want you to be here because… Because you love me."

The silence is so long, so excruciating, that you slip back into the water so you can stare at him and read his expression. You've drifted to the deep end of the pool without realizing, and you swim over to the nearest edge so you don't have to tread water. It's completely unintentional, but all of a sudden, the pool's entire length is between you and Aaron.

You stare at him. He's staring off to his right, his fingers threaded through his hair. It's still silent, and even the sound of the water lapping at the pool's walls has ceased. You resolve not to say anything until he does. You've played your cards. If he doesn't like them, he can fold.

He looks over at you, and the expression on his face is something you don't know how to read. It's not one you've ever seen before, and for a second you're angry at yourself, knowing that your poker face is thin. Anyone could read you: desperate for his affection, on the verge of tears, like a dog waiting at the front door after a long day. And because it's Aaron, you might as well have hired a skywriter to spell out the words above you both: I love you. I love you, I love you. Please love me back. I don't know what I'll do if you don't love me back.

For a few more painful, long, minutes, he just stares at you. You hold his gaze and map his features, trying to make sense of them. His lips are pressed together, although not so tightly that it's his tell for repressing a spiteful comment. His jaw is fixed, but all of the times you've seen him in profiler mode, it has been. The typically hard line of his brow is soft. His eyes are marginally wider than usual. His head is normally inclined slightly forward, a result of sitting hunched over a desk for so long, but also, you know, a way of making his features appear sharper, harsher. When he tips his head forward and makes eye contact from under his brows, anyone will confess anything to him. He's never used that look with you, and this is no exception. You note that his head is in a neutral position, even tipped slightly back.

You don't need to be a profiler to know that it's a vulnerable expression for him. He's outside of his shielded norm, and the head tilt, with its many meanings, also has the practical effect of baring his throat to you. Okay, you think. There's a vulnerability here, but I knew that already.

"Come here," He says, finally.

The silence has been so long that you almost think you're imagining his words, which isn't helped by the fact that he said them quietly. But he's looking at you expectantly, so you paddle slowly over. You leave a slight distance between you, but it's shallow enough that you can comfortably stand.

"Is that what this is about? You need me to tell you that I love you?"

You nod, uncomfortable at the way he's phrased it, but you know that it's true nonetheless.

"What's your expression?" You ask. Even if this goes terribly, you want to memorize it. If this is the last way you'll ever see his face, you want to file it away forever.

Your question prompts a change; he looks surprised. At least you can recognize that one.

"My expression?"

You nod gingerly.

He stands up and walks towards you, closing the distance.

"This is what it looks like when a man is watching the love of his life beg for something she's always had."

It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but as soon as you've processed them, you smile so widely that an ache sets in. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, liquid relief overflowing.

He wraps his arms around you, and you rest your face against his shoulder, your nose turned into his neck.

You can't help it, and you laugh even as you're crying.

Aaron strokes your back, holding you close as your emotions work their way out of your system.

As you calm down, he starts to sway the two of you side-to-side. You rest your right hand against his chest, and he keeps his arms wrapped around you.

There's nothing you can say that will rival what he's just said, so you're happy to stand in silence.

He takes your chin in his hand and guides your face towards his. It's like you're kissing him for the first time, and for a moment, you just stay an inch apart, watching him look at your lips. You share breath like it's the most natural thing in the world. You close your eyes and feel his lips against yours: slow, soft, reserved. It's a kiss with no ulterior motive than to be shared, passed back and forth between you like a cigarette.

When you finish, Aaron's hand is cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek.

"I'm getting cold," You murmur.

He nods, and presses his lips to yours for one last, short kiss.

He leaves you standing in the pool, watching as he walks over to the daybed, retrieving your towels, long-abandoned. He nods for you to get out of the pool, and you practically float up the steps.

It's with all the tenderness in the world that he wraps a towel around your shoulders, and your hand brushes his as you take hold of the corners, keeping it in place.

He takes your free hand in his, kissing your knuckles gently, then leads you to the house.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #fanfic #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner #hotch smut #my writing #self insert

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 4 months

Note

If it's not too much trouble, how about a "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot" where the other dragon riders notice our reader and Hiccup hanging out more often? I love your fics btw ! <3 Feel free to ignore me :)

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 19

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 4,160

The ‘fine’ part of ‘Things end up fine, anyways.’

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Race To Fireworm Island, unedited, part two, half-fill

You stared out at the sea from where you sat next to Hiccup on your own pentagonal slab of rock, your legs crossed, hands in your lap as you stared outwards.

The last you checked, Hiccup was sitting loosely with his elbows hooked over his knees, boot and prosthetic pressed flat against the floor.

It was still somewhat still, though the wind began to pick up slightly, causing small, cold waves to ripple and crash across its surface.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as it did, and the silence between you and Hiccup was rife with an odd feeling which you tracked back to some of the just-barely dry underbrush, making you feel as if, oddly, you were being-

The only other sound was the one made by a grumbling stomach, which at first you nearly mistook for your own, glancing down and then at Hiccup.

He laughed awkwardly, “Yeah, ah-ha, I haven’t eaten since-”

You’d only been there for a few moments but the silence was starting to get weird and uncomfortable.

Hiccup opened his mouth to speak again, though he was beaten, your own stomach gurgling in response.

“I’ve been, well, I’ve been a bit starved too,” You scuffed your feet against the stone beneath your feet and flushed as you also laughed, before speaking, staring of into the side where cliffs melted back into forest, “You know, I have just the thing.”

Carefully, you unclipped the wrapped cloth sack from around your waist, where it was hanging against your belt, You pulled out your lunch.

A smaller pouch nearly fell off as you did, a small brown thing which you vaguely recognized as having a bit of salt inside.

You weren’t going to use it- You’d already flavored some of the meat earlier after you spent the coin and bought it from the town square.

In any other circumstance, you might have been practically drooling, but this was a serious matter.

And… You could always sacrifice a bit of sandwich for a Hiccup in need. The power of a good sandwich did wonders.

You waved it at him, before noticing the look he had on his face, something stuck between curiosity and satisfaction, before explaining, “I eat at the hall usually, but sometimes I make myself lunch. Afternoon meal.”

No one else really ate lunch on Berk. Turns out that was a modern thing.

You stared down at it, made up of old bread from the Inegrman’s, carrot slices, mustard seeds, cabbage and some mystery meat you’d procured from the market.

It wasn’t much and the meat bits still tasted a bit like whey, but after you’d spent the longest time lunchless, eating the most bland food ever, it felt like heaven.

It made a world of difference.

You pressed into the center with just some cloth separating your nails from the bread as you ripped the sandwich in half.

You pulled the cloth off after and passed one half over to Hiccup, who took it surely.

“Okay- Alright,” Hiccup said inhaling.

He bit into it somewhat apprehensively, and you found it within yourself to be slightly judgemental of his judgment.

“This is good,” Hiccup said, after a moment of chewing, swallowing his first bite.

“Salt,” You managed through another mouthful of sandwich, which you thought spoke volumes.

It didn’t speak of all the volumes, but it spoke plenty.

“Oh,” Hiccup said, grimacing, looking up and focusing off into the distance in a way that told you he wasn’t thinking about your sandwich. Probably wondering why food on Berk was so bad.

He bit into it with a bit more enthusiasm than you’d expected, though not the messy kind you were witness to in the Great Hall from the much older, burlier Vikings.

You wanted to ask if he wanted any more through a mouthful of sandwich. Instead, you focused on chewing.

You vaguely notice the sound of scrambling claws against stone, something you’d gotten used to during your time on Berk.

“Hiccup,” You said, pausing, bringing down the hand holding your makeshift lunch as a small, glowy, orange little figure scurried forwards.

It was a Fireworm, and it had wandered right up to your feet.

“I know,” He responded, sounding definitely happy, “I see it. But-”

Hiccup shook his head, grimacing, before explaining, “Ah, Gods, I left the pliers on Toothless saddle. I can-we can’t pick them up. They’re too hot.”

You glanced at him and saw what was definitely a thinking face on his face, if you’d ever seen one.

The little Fireworm before you did the best it could to stand on its hind legs, its front arms repeatedly falling back onto gray stone, the many arms in between wiggling as they met air, making an odd sizzling chittering noise all the while.

Its large throat shifted as it spoke, a lot like a frog, small, beady, pupil-less eyes blinking in a way that was uncomfortable but oddly cute?

“Fireworms, they’re-” Hiccup paused, watching the dragon intently, “They’re scavengers. So, this one-”

“It wants a piece of my sandwich?” You asked, waving your finger above the little guy as he danced.

You looked down at your own sandwich, before bringing your hand back to break off a piece of bread for the little guy. It was like feeding Terrors, except you were pretty sure bread would give them indigestion.

You had to shift back slightly, holding the piece of bread in a pinch and scooting back as the little fireworm curled and bowed and tried to crawl closer, eager for the meager little piece of bread.

Before you could drop the piece, you paused, holding it in the air, looking towards Hiccup, “I- Would it-he? Be alright if I-”

Then you paused again.

It seemed Hiccup was busy with his own corral of dragons as a few more Fireworms peeked up and around the geometric slabs of rock, looking at Hiccup like an eager flock of chickens or a bunch of extra mini lizards.

He looked at you, his legs crossed too, sitting carefully as the Fireworms came to sniff at his legs and nose around the area he held his sandwich, limp in his arms with both hands, “It should be fine. They- even if he didn't like it, the worst it would give him is a stomachache. Besides, I don’t think they’re eating any of the sandwich. Not yet.”

“Really?” As you looked back, you noticed a few more surrounding you, one particularly large Fireworm crawling over a flat ridge, nearly emotionless, still face staring intently at you.

You startled, yelping and turning your attention back to your hands as the first Fireworm fell back, having jumped at your fingers, grabbing for the bread pinch in your fingertips and missing, burning your pointer finger and causing it to loosed slightly before reflexively jerking together.

The first little dragon seemed a bit frustrated in a sort of sad way, as he wriggled on the ground and righted himself, put out as more Fireworms began to gather, smaller and more emotive than the rest, which you noticed with a sort of optimistic chagrin.

You glanced towards Hiccup as he frowned slightly at all the dragons beginning to surround the two of you, slowly beginning to stand up then back at your little fireworm, who was now surrounded by a bunch of larger small ones.

He was the first to make a move and yet he hadn’t gotten a piece. So the littlest one was the first one to make a choice. To approach both you and Hiccup and feel the two of you out and then, to make the big, crazy, going-to-walk-up-to-the-people decision.

You smiled a little, brighter than ever.

It reminded you of someone.

You made sure to rip off another, bigger piece of bread, handing it over to him as an apology, quickly and directly, chest lighter as he began to clumsily scurry away, with enthusiasm, “Sorry for the wait.”

Then you blinked. You noticed vaguely that Hiccup did the same, laughing nervously and tossing dragons a few small pieces of your sandwich.

The two of you were surrounded by Fireworms, begging like blank-faced small, furry creatures in a pet shop window.

You got up, backing slowly away, edging as much backwards as you could as the little dragons converged on you. You weren’t sure exactly where you were headed but you knew you should probably not be there.

You could feel the heat of the fireworms as they got closer, burning brightly, getting more intense as each new Fireworm joined their ranks.

You had no idea how they could mess around the foliage and not set everything on fire.

You backed up until your shoulders hit something furry, causing you to nearly start.

It was Hiccup’s coat.

You jerked to the side, pulling your eyes away from the fireworms, realizing that you and Hiccup had backed into each other.

Hiccup did the same, before looking down at the Fireworms with both wonder and mild apprehension, “They’re… glowing. Brighter, I mean.”

“Do you think this’ll be enough for Hookfang?” You asked, resisting the urge to laugh nervously. You two were closer to the treeline now, at the edge of an area which you thought might be too damp for them to be comfortable.

You grabbed down for something without looking, your back nearly to the trees, fireworms still scrambling around.

It was with glee that you let go of the last piece of your sandwich to a little Fireworm that had attached itself to your boot.

Another scrambled across the mostly empty floor, tiny claws scratching against grass and stone.

You picked at it with a stick, gently.

It stuck to the stick, clinging to it with one of many hands before falling off and skittering away.

You glanced up to where Hiccup was watching the little guy go with what looked like a lost expression on his face, “I wasn’t sure how we were going to get them all back, anyways…”

You considered trying to hold a Fireworm between your stick and another earlier, like you were using chopsticks, but when you’d had to replace your old one- it set on fire- you decided it was probably better to try and lead it by the sandwich.

You fell to the ground again, which was very, very clear besides a few lingerers, with a sigh of relief.

After the two of you showed your empty hands, it was like the group of them seemed to dissipate, quickly dissolving into the bushes.

“Where are they all going?” You asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup responded under his breath, as the last little Fireworm, a particularly wiggly faithful guy, dancing sideways and undulating its body like a frond of pond weed, scuttled proudly away into the bushes with two whole pieces, both from you.

“Do you think we can follow…?” You asked, half mumbling, and very optimistic. The ‘them to more,’ remained unsaid.

The two of you looked at each other.

The Fireworm crawled quickly down the cliffs, both you and Hiccup scrambling to follow.

You waved your arms as you struggled to balance, Hiccup skidding and bending forward precariously as he leapt from one basalt column to another.

Hiccup had the lead earlier, but you soon overtook him as his prosthetic got stuck between two rocks, Hiccup ushering your forwards as you sprinted and he tugged his foot free.

His prosthetic made a noise, the sound of metal on rock and the grinding of the spring mechanism of his prosthetic every time it hit stone.

It was a few moments more before you reached mostly flat ground, again tiled by those now familiar geometric shapes,

You were running along a large ledge in the side of a cliff, and you did your best to keep up, coming to a stop as the Fireworm scuttled forwards.

You skidded to a stop, lungs burning and heart pounding, limbs sore, looking up and it disappeared into a huge cave, its entrance looking like a huge, wide crack in the cliff face.

“So, we follow it in?” You asked as the two of you stared down into the cave.

It had gotten pretty fast near the end, probably frightened by the two of you running full speed after it.

Hiccup skidded to a stop right beside you, panting and bending over slightly, chest moving as yours did.

You could still feel your heart pounding in your ears.

“Yeah, I… I guess so,” Hiccup said, slowly standing up straight, “I think this might be it.”

Fireworms were bright, right?

You should be able to spot it in the darkness of the cave. It couldn’t have gotten too far.

But, no. It was dark. Really, really dark. And as you stepped forwards into the darkness, the light behind you fading into nothing, it only got darker.

Your boots tapped against the stone, your only anchor being the sound of Hiccup’s prosthetic as it squeaked in the darkness and the vague idea of where he was, which you could only discern through his body heat and the occasional brush of his fur vest against your arm.

“Are we lost?” You asked, in barely a whisper.

You blinked, though you were hit by a feeling of unease as you were greeted by the sight of nearly nothing when you opened them. The open space around you, covered by complete darkness, only succeeded in making the cave feel cavernous and eerie.

As you walked, you wondered what Hiccup was thinking, his arm bumping into yours. You resisted the urge to grab onto his it, sticking close as lint.

It was much colder here than anywhere else, the hall, cavern, whatever else frigid and yet incredibly dry.

And as you went, slowly, steadily grew the sound of buzzing, an ominous, quiet, continuous yet high pitched mumble.

“I…” Hiccup started, then stopped.

You jerked back uneasily, not registering it until a moment later, halfway between a step forwards, shifting your weight backwards.

You noticed, just barely, that you could make out the end of the tunnel.

It was a considerable improvement from the moment before, where everything was washed over by an inky blackness.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Though, as you recalled the yellow light of the outside, you doubted your path would lead you to an exit.

Slowly, the two of you crept towards the light, and as you grew closer, it became clearer.

Your source of light was a long, thin crack in the rock. You could just make out a stone floor on the other side of it, but you couldn��t tell much else. It was just wide enough to fit a Fireworm comfortably and a teen you uncomfortably if you turned to the side.

You stood aimlessly in front of the crack in the wall, meeting eyes with Hiccup, whose green eyes became a muddied brown, washed over with orange light.

“So…” You began, feeling the beginnings of a pit of dread in your stomach.

You thought now would be the opportune time for a, ‘ladies first,’ and was pleasantly surprised when hiccup responded with something else.

“I’ll go first,” Hiccup nodded.

Hiccup scooted forwards, going first, sliding through a narrow space in the wall, where the light was brightest.

“Hiccup?” You called lightly.

“It’s-it’s safe,” He said. His voice was faint with a hint of what sounded like stun.

Apprehensively, you began to scoot in after him, wincing as your eyes adjusted to the sudden light, dim though it was.

When you saw what was inside, you couldn’t do anything but gasp and stumble forwards, coming to stand besides Hiccup a little further away in the cavern.

It was incredible.

It was like a giant beehive.

If the cave leading inwards felt cavernous, you weren’t sure what this was.

There must have been a million of them.

Tiny Fireworms crawled along the walls, moving up and down incredibly large honeycomb walls, glowing and flickering and buzzing.

You could spot a few, newly returned, sharing the fruits of their ‘hunt,’ dividing small sandwich bits into even tinier pieces.

Each comb came together to form a dizzying pattern.

The whole island underneath must have been carved out and reinforced, pasted together to make this.

There were parts of the cave that faded into gray stone and darkness; The entrance you crawled into must not and really could not have been the only one, and this could not have been the only cavern.

The corner of your eye was drawn to a movement in the hexes, a low, barely perceptible rumbling filling your ears.

She was curling around one of the many red-washed rocks jutting from the floor in the middle of the cavern.

A glowing orange and yellow dragon with the same large throat as the small Fireworms, radiating heat like a small sun, with eyes saturated to the reddest degree you had ever seen.

Hiccup exhaled, tilting his head to the side as his mouth quirked up at the corners, taking in the sights around you.

“Hiccup,” You tapped his arm, calling warningly.

You backed up slowly, matching steps with Hiccup yet again until you nearly hit a wall of comb.

One of your boots got caught on something for a moment and you glanced down and up again, the floor beneath you covered by a sticky, thick sheen of something. Was it honey?

You looked at Hiccup, who glanced to his side.

You were too far away to run away through the cave, your exit block and your space crowded by the large dragon.

“The Fireworm Queen?” Hiccup asked, still sounding sort of awed.

The large dragon got onto its hind legs, many clawed arms flexing and swaying surely in the air, in great contrast to her many children.

In the moment, all you could think about is if any of these Fireworms were ever larvae?

“Wait, hold on, I can-...” He trailed off like he had come to some sort of realization. Glancing at his face, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, you half expected him to shout, ‘Eureka!’

You breathed shakily, crouched slightly as you listened to the sound of skin shifting against fabric.

“Leftovers from paint making,” Hiccup shrugged his hand out of the wrappings around his waist, revealing a handful of slightly dull red-orange scales.

You saw them in your periphery, took in some details through a half-glance, though both of your eyes and Hiccups were still trained mostly on the Fireworm Queen, “I grabbed a few just before… Just before he started graying.”

The two of you laughed together in celebration, panting as your sprint brought you back onto the cliffs where you’d taken lunch and then had lunch taken.

It was easy to get back out with the glow of the honeycomb to guide you.

You were just glad that everything seemed to have worked out well.

You stopped, panting, beaming at him, and he beamed back, laughing into the wind as the sky got darker.

You calmed down, and you could see his focus change through his expression from, ‘we got the honeycomb,’ to 'how are we going to get this back?’

You glanced around, looking at the sea and the sun, just beginning to wash the world in pinks, spotting a few dots along the sky for what was the second time that day.

“Look-look!” You shouted joyfull, grabbing into his arm.

“Is that…?” Hiccup asked, as you cheered, the bright blue and yellow dot growing lighter until it was larger than the both of you.

You scramble back to make space, a healthy distance away, a bit farther than Hiccup, though not too far.

You were closer to the treeline than not as Stormfly landed, claws outstretched, ready to dig into the grooves along the cliff.

“I didn’t know Stormfly could track this far,” Astrid said from a distance, looking suspiciously down at her dragon.

“Astrid!” Hiccup had calmed down considerably by the time she landed, though he was alight with what you imagined to be another kind of joy, the same kind that lit your chest as your hope for Hookfang was restored, “I can’t- find Toothless. Can you-?”

You watched Hiccup’s furred, vested back as he and Astrid focused their attention on each other.

Astrid looked down on Hiccup from above, the wind, growing colder, blew in from behind her, causing her hair to wave wildly, albeit with a graceful quality you never saw outside of movies. It was a beautiful sight.

Stormfly below did her best to look back up at her rider, tongue flicking in her mouth, neck undulating as she began chirping deep in her throat.

“What-?” Astrid asked, looking incredulously down at Hiccup, “Where have you been all day? We’ve been searching for you! We don’t have time to-!”

“Astrid!” Hiccup said again’

“Again, what?”

You blinked watchfully. You were still riding off the high of getting the comb. You didn't have the mind to be concerned about the love interests not doing love interest things.

Hiccup held up his hand, where the still-glowing comb was carefully cradled, “Think you can get this back to Snotlout and Hookfang?”

Astrid’s eyes widened as she showed what you might’ve called a star on someone else startled on Stormfly’s saddle, as if she’d just noticed the comb there.

It was bright along one side and you worried for a moment that it would begin to drip and ooze. Would it be able to withstand the trip back to Berk unscathed?

She looked down at it sternly, before nodding, extending her hand downwards, “Give it to me.”

Before she could grab it, though, you stepped forwards.

“Wait-” You said, as Hiccup was mid hand-over. Quickly, you brought your hands back to your belt where you’d clipped the cloth you’d used to hold your lunch earlier.

Quickly, you shook out any remaining crumbs and you gestured for the honeycomb.

Astrid, it seemed, immediately got what you were going for, backing up on Stormfly, causing her dragon to stand at full height as you began to grab the honeycomb from Hiccup.

You held the cloth in your hands and carefully grabbed the free side comb, wrapping it up clumsily as it stood half-held by Hiccup, who then retracted his hand, and half supported by your other palm underneath.

Astrid eyes the two of you carefully as you did, eyes narrowing though not necessarily with any malice. A bit of suspicion, maybe.

“You want this back later?” Astrid asked, finally, after a moment of silence, as Hiccup carefully grabbed back the honeycomb and handed it up to her.

“It’s alright,” You said, before continuing matter-of-factly “I can probably come get it next time I go up to Hofferson House.”

She raised her brow, “Do either of you need a ride?”

Hiccup looked at you, as if asking for directions. To that, you shrugged.

“Stormfly will probably be faster without the extra weight,” he decided, to which you agreed privately. The need for speed was essential, “Is Hookfang…?”

“Not doing well,” Astrid nodded, “I’ll send someone back for you later.”

You could tell the moment she kicked Stormfly off, shifting her weight back and bending slightly forwards, moving her knees against Stormfly’s side in a way that caused her to bow again and crouch her legs.

She spread her wings wide, tail spikes flexing.

The few hardy, strong wingbeats of Stormfly blew back your tunic, sending sticks and leaves flying.

As Stormfly launched into the sky, you had to cover your face with your arms. Shaking yourself off once you stopped feeling the force of the wind on your chest.

As you settled, back straight, you watched them disappear into the skyline.

Hiccup, too, watch next to you, looking very satisfied.

You hoped the honeycomb reached Hookfang and Snotlout safely.

You noticed they had been out and about a lot recently.

Snotlout would definitely be happy to see it.

You hoped you didn’t stunt his character growth or something. You felt like it might have been a good learning experience for him, though maybe he’d learned enough already.

He seemed pretty distraught over Hookfang.

You made a confused noise in the back of your throat which you were sure was lost in the wind.

The sea began to pick up slightly as it did and you were reminded of the light chill in the air as the sky grew from orange to darker, and you were reminded of the oncoming night.

Standing with his hands on his waist, hair blowing back like he was having some sort of wise movie come to Jesus moment.

You joined him staring out at the warm, saturated reds and pinks and oranges of the mostly set sun.

You wondered if trees were comfortable to sleep in.

“So, I guess we have to set up camp, now?”

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #fem reader #female reader

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sentientgolfball · 7 months

Text

sooo @rainyhoursinhell got me on a Sir Rain fix but then I thought too long about genderfluid Rain and the lunar cycle so now I give you Ma'am Rain..also go read their stuff!! They are THE Raintom person

18+ MDNI

Word Count: 2570

Pairing: Rain/Phantom

Tags: she/her Rain used, collar and leash, Phantom tries very hard to be good, mean Rain, pet play/pup used as a nickname, slight mention of daddy kink

Summary: It was a super full moon tonight and Rain had to get rid of the pent-up energy somehow

It was a full moon.

A full super moon.

Rain had been feeling the pull of the celestial body for the past few days, which wasn’t anything unexpected for a water ghoul. She was used to the push and pull of the moon's power. She knew how to handle herself in the presence of its light.

Something Rain never could seem to get the handle on though was those few moments in the year where the cycle got interrupted. Eclipses, blue moons, super moons, those always caught her by surprise even if she had the date marked and highlighted in every calendar in the Ministry. She was still caught by surprise when she woke up dick painfully erect like she went into heat overnight. She could already feel that high that comes with the full moon and the sun literally just rose. She figured she needed to take care of herself before she got too high off the surge of magick and adrenaline. She ran straight to the shower and made quick work of herself, shooting onto the tile wall nearly piercing her hand with the effort of keeping quiet.

When she left the bathroom with a puff of steam and saw her half-opened closet a grin slowly spread on her face. She knew exactly what to wear for the occasion.

Short satin dress. Spaghetti strap. Black. Matching elbow-length gloves and choker. Opal stud earrings.

She figured the effort it would take to keep her fins glamoured all day would be worth the looks she knew she’d get. Maybe if she were lucky Cirrus or Mountain would throw her over their shoulder to go rip the dress right off. Or maybe Dew would tease her all day until she decided enough was enough and bent him over the nearest surface. Oh or what about Swiss falling to his knees begging for permission to touch and taste? Rain had to bite back a moan at the thought as she looked herself over in the mirror, making sure each part of the outfit was sitting correctly on her figure.

When she finally deemed herself the picture of perfection, she made her way to the kitchenette hoping to ruffle some feathers before slipping away to join the other water ghouls until she returned to the den when the moon was at its peak. She must have taken longer to get ready than she originally thought because the entire pack was out, spread between the common area and the kitchen. She tried her damnedest to keep a neutral expression when any conversation halted the moment she stepped into view. She could already smell the arousal on the whole damn pack.

It was a super moon after all. It was the one lunar event that didn’t affect just water ghouls. Sure it messed with them the most, but still every ghoul of every element would be feeling the pull tonight. She knew this and she used it to her advantage. Every single time.

She ran a hand over Mountain’s waist when she slipped past him at the stove. She made sure to reach for the glass on the highest shelf so Swiss could get a perfect view of her dress from where he was sitting at the table. She made sure to brush his arm and lean over Cumulus while she set the table. Her tail flicked when she heard a low growl from the common area.

“Isn’t it a little early to start this Rainy?”

Her eyes flick up to meet Dew’s glowing ones.

“What? Am I not allowed to look nice?”

He huffs “Not when the new kid is five seconds away from creaming his pants.”

Rain can hear a small squeak followed by Cirrus

“Sorry Ant but it’s kinda obvious, I can smell you from here.”

Rain raises an eyebrow at Dew who returns the gesture with the slightest flick of his head.

Looks like Rain found who she’d be celebrating the supermoon with.

Rain had to admit, she was a little nervous at the idea of taking Phantom since this was only his second moon experience, but fuck the sweet smell of his arousal wafting over the others made her head spin and it still wasn’t anywhere close to sunset.

She decided she’d play the long game with him when he couldn’t keep his eyes off her the entirety of breakfast. She’d glance at him and he’d look away with a deep blush and oh did she long to see how far she could push him. It got even worse when she realized his chores seemed to suspiciously line up with every spot the water ghouls decided to gather at to lazily make out or to expel the pent-up magick before the real show started.

Enough was enough, though when Phantom ran straight into Rain after slinking away when he saw Rain was nowhere to be seen with the other water ghouls.

“You’ve been watching me all day haven’t you sweet thing?”

His Lichtenberg figure scars glow slightly as a small wave of quintessence ripples through his body.

“I uh I don’t know what you’re talking about Rain. I was just you know…working.”

She tsks “Who taught you to lie? Good boys don’t lie Phantom. I thought you were good?”

His eyes go wide when Rain turns and begins walking away.

“Wait! Wait Rainy where are you—?”

“Back to the den. If you can’t be good I’ll just find someone who can.”

She turns and meets Phantom’s eyes with a bored look when she feels him grab her wrist.

“Come on Rain please let me be good for you. I promise I’ll be good. Gimme a chance, I’ll do whatever you say.”

She raised an eyebrow “Whatever I say? Really?”

He nods so fast it makes Rain’s neck hurt.

“Hm,” she hums “Guess we’ll find out if you’re still lying to me.”

The second they’re back in the ghoul den Rain quickly wraps a hand around his horns and pulls him down the hallway to her room.

“Good luck Bug you’re gonna need it!” Swiss calls from where he’s pinned between Cirrus and Aurora on the couch.

“Be nice.” Aurora hisses.

That’s the last thing Phantom hears before he’s shoved into Rain’s dark room. The lock clicks and he doesn’t even have time for his eyes to adjust before he feels Rain grab and shove him against the door. She pressed her whole body into him, stealing what little breath he had with a kiss. She teases his bottom lip with her tongue, huffing a laugh when he immediately opens for her.

Rain slips her tongue into his mouth, making an attempt to shove it down his throat before pulling back.

“Stoplight system, okay pup?”

He nods with a little squeak. Rain growls and places a little pressure at the base of his neck.

“What was that? You know how to speak don’t you or are you a dumb little puppy?”

Phantom whines and nods his head “Yes.”

“To which?”

“All of the above.”

Rain smiles, flashing her fangs before leaning in to suck a deep bruise onto his neck.

“Good boy. But I still think you need a little training since you decided to lie earlier.”

Rain pulls away for a moment. She fishes something out from her nightstand that Phantom can’t quite see. She throws open the blinds in her room to let the full moonlight fill the space. Phantom’s cock kicks in his pants at the sight. Rain’s skin practically glows when it hits her. The black satin is a gorgeous contrast to her pale skin and oh the darkness in her eyes was too much for Phantom. She crosses the space to stand in front of him, only this time she keeps a bit of distance.

“Eyes on me pet.”

Phantom's mismatched gaze immediately snaps to meet her. She smiles and takes the thing from the nightstand from behind her back, clipping it around his neck before he can even process it. He instinctively reaches up to feel the material. He’s a bit shocked when he feels the leather, whatever was against his neck felt soft and fuzzy.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good.”

Rain yanks on the leash he didn’t even realize was attached and he nearly falls on his ass. She pulls him over to the vanity letting him take a good long look at the two of them. Only Phantom isn’t looking at them. His eyes immediately fell to the collar. It was pink with a matching heart keychain on the leash clip. He squinted to read the words in the low light and nearly fainted when he realized what was written.

Daddy’s girl.

He felt another yank his leash.

“What did I say? Eyes on me.”

“I’m sorry!” His eyes immediately snap to look at Rain in the reflection.

“I’m sorry…?”

“I’m sorry ma’am” he whines.

Rain steps back to sit on the edge of the bed pulling Phantom with her. He immediately moves to straddle her but Rain hisses, looping the leash around her wrist and yanking.

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t earned that yet. You still need to be taught a lesson for lying. On your knees pup.”

Phantom drops without a second thought landing hard. He’s going to have bruises for days after this is over. He looks up at Rain with those big eyes making her cock twitch. She shifts her weight just enough to lift the hem of the dress to expose her lacy underwear.

“Sit on your hands pup. Since you wanted to use your mouth so badly that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Now get to work.”

Phantom leans forward till he’s slotted perfectly between Rain’s legs. He grabs the waistband of the panties between his teeth, careful not to nick her skin with his fangs. He slides them down just enough to free her cock. She’s already hard with a bead of pre pooling at the tip. He licks his lips and glances up at Rain, holding eye contact as he licks a long fat stripe from root to tip. Rain tightens his grip on the leash, letting his claws bite into his palm to keep still.

Phantom laps at the tip before parting his lips and swallowing her down. Rain laces her fingers through his hair, gasping when her cock hits the back of his throat. He slowly pulls off, letting the flat of his tongue drag along the underside. He keeps his lips around the tip and holds for just a moment letting the anticipation build. He breathes deep through his nose before sliding down in one quick motion, burying his nose in the hair at the base. He hollows his cheeks and bobs his head. Rain moans and throws his head back.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy pup. Do something good with that mouth.”

Phantom’s tail snakes around to stroke and play with her balls. Rain hisses a curse and rips Phantom off her dick by his leash. He stares at her with wide eyes trying to babble out an excuse.

“What part of mouth is so hard to understand stupid little puppy?”

“Rain I’m sorry—“

“What did you say?”

“Ma’am! I’m sorry ma’am please”

“Strip and get on the bed. Ass up.”

Phantom jumps up and rips his shirt off sending buttons flying across the room. He almost falls on his face trying to get his pants off and onto the bed at the same time. Rain slips his panties the rest of the way off. She fishes out a half-empty bottle of lube, settling behind Phantom on her knees. She pulls one of her gloves off to pour a generous amount onto her hand. She pulls her dress up to sit above his hips. She jacks herself a few times to spread the lube and spit around. She lines herself up with Phantom’s waiting hole and slaps his ass.

“Wait wait wait you’re not gonna prep first?” He yelps.

“Color?”

“Green.”

Rain sneers “Do you really think you deserve it pup?”

She pushes the head in.

“You spent all day stalking me.”

She pushes in a little more.

“You lie to my face.”

She pulls all the way out.

“And then you break two rules. So tell me pup do you really think you deserve it?”

Phantom whines and writhes under her “No ma’am. You’re right I don't, I'm sorry.”

Rain slams into him bottoming out in one thrust. Phantom howls at the stretch. Rain wasn’t big enough to really hurt him, but it still burned without any prep. He’d definitely feel her long after this was over.

She gives him no time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, one hand gripping his hip and the other keeping a tight hold on the leash. She yanks on it in time with her thrusts pulling strangled little moans from Phantom.

“Ma’am please please. I’m good, I'm good, I promise.”

He tries to grind his hips back on Rain’s cock, trying to get her deeper.

“Are you?”

“Please I am I am I’m good.”

“Then fucking take it.”

She shifts her hips and the next thrust hits his prostate dead on. He keens and clenches hard around her. She groans and throws her head back.

“Come on pup be a good boy. Be a good fucking boy.” She punctuates each word with a thrust, grinding her hips against his ass.

She pulls hard on the leash until Phantom is pulled up and pressed tight against Rain’s chest. She licks and kisses over his shoulders before dragging her tongue up the column of his throat to his ear. She pants heavy and low in his ear and nips at the lobe.

“You take it so well, slutty little puppy.”

She pinches and twists his nipples. He whines high and feminine. Rain drags her hand down his body and grabs his dick. She jacks him as she grinds into him. It only takes a few more strokes and Phantom is spilling hot and heavy into her hand.

“Thank you ma’am thank you thank you thank you.” He pants and whines as Rain milks every drop out of him. She brings her hand to his face.

“Clean your mess puppy.”

Phantom drops his mouth and wraps his tongue around her fingers when she shoves them into his mouth. He sucks until he feels her bite into his shoulder shooting into him thrusting her spend as deep as she can manage into him.

She takes a moment to catch her breath before lapping at the wound to close it. She drops them onto the bed, kissing Phantom sweetly between the horns. She unclips the collar and kisses around the red marks left on his neck.

“You were such a good boy for me pup. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.”

Phantom whines and shakes his head burying his nose into her chest.

“Wanna stay here?”

He nods and tilts his head up to kiss the underside of her chin making her laugh.

“You know we have to clean you up love bug.”

“Aren’t you like a super water ghoul right now? Just” he gestures vaguely “magic it away.”

“No bug, I can't magic it away, it has to go somewhere.”

“Fiiiine” he groans.

Rain just laughs and hauls him up, pulling him to the shower. She holds him close, swaying slightly to a silent rhythm.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #phantom ghoul #rain x phantom #rain ghoul #raintom #mdni #the band ghost fic #golfball writes

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heich0e · 2 years

Text

A/N: plu added onto this post and now all i can think about is HIM

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

"do you want to get in with me?" you ask, smoothing your creamy body wash across your collarbones and shoulders. you peek at tomura from the corner of your eye as your touch trails gently along your skin.

as usual he'd started outside the washroom, then eventually began peeking through the cracked door, this turned to hovering in the open doorway, which lead inevitably to sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, and now he's leaning against the edge of the tub, his fingers tangled with yours, as his knuckles graze the bubbles in your bathwater.

"no," he spits, like the very thought disgusts him. like the idea of letting you lather the almond scented bodywash he likes so much on you into his own skin would be some type of unspeakable sin.

"tomu,"—you swallow down a laugh because you know it will only send him skittering away; you know you have to tread lightly around him, at risk of scaring him off with the immensity of his own affection—"you're already wet up to your elbow."

"so what?" he gruffs petulantly, but his eyes do flicker down to where the sleeve of his shirt has gone dark as it sops up the lavender scented water from your bath.

"so you should get in with me," you urge him gently and he hesitates, his eyes narrowing as if trying to discern ulterior motives.

you let your thighs part, water sloshing slightly against the sides of the basin, and though the bubbles on the surface preserve your modesty, your knees pressing against either edge of the porcelain tub are as good an indicator as any to intentions of the gesture.

you let the hand he's not gripping trail along your soft, soapy skin, as your head lolls to the side so you can look at him properly. finally, you bat your lashes, squeezing gently at his hand wrapped around yours.

his eyes are darting around your body so quickly it's like he doesn't know where to look. he swallows visibly, his arm dipping so far into the tub that his shirt soaks nearly to his shoulder as you guide his hand exactly where you want him under the warmth of the water. even though the bubbles hide the view, there's no mistaking what he's feeling.

his resolve is dissipating quicker than the froth that hides your skin from sight, a blush curling across his cheeks he can't blame on the steam.

you smile.

"tomura, get in with me please?"

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing

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fandom-monium · 10 months

Text

Sweet Poison - Part 4

Summary: In which you realize some things about your friend, Zagreus. “Death may be normal here, but the pain…”

WC: 1.5k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut

AN: What is a slow burn without the angst??

“Why go through all that effort? Surely you understand how dangerous it is,” You say, referring to his runs through the Underworld. As far as you know, there’s been several. Buried in the covers with a good book, you lay on your side and flip to the next page, though it's lost your attention since Zagreus arrived. “Death may be normal here, but the pain…”

At your lounge chair, Zagreus waves you off, eyes flicking from your figure to your sketchbook in his lap between exaggerated strokes, obnoxiously scritching the parchment. You roll your eyes. “I’m more than familiar with pain. As for why…”

Hearing the somber shift in his tone, you look up, willing him to meet your gaze. “Please don’t feel obligated to answer if it’s too personal.”

“No I… I trust you,” For a moment, Zagreus expression softens, like he can’t believe he’d befriend a demon to this point. You know you can’t, but you also know you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

Almost anything, that is.

The sketchbook shuts with a soft thud. Zagreus crosses the short distance to sit at the foot of your bed, by the curve of your hips. The bed dips under his weight before he takes a deep breath. “Long story short, I found out the mother that raised me isn’t my biological mother, and eventually I learned my biological mother escaped the Underworld and is somewhere on the surface.”

“So once you get to the surface, you intend to find her?”

“Exactly.”

“And what then?”

“Get answers,” He simply answers. Though his eyes steel with conviction, he slumps forward, resting his elbows on toned thighs.

Heat rises to your face, and you turn back to your book.

“You must think I’m a fool.”

“No.” Zagreus shoots you a flat look over his shoulder like he doesn't believe you, so you fully turn your attention to him. “Really! I don’t. I mean, shades aren’t allowed to leave the Underworld, natural order and all that.”

“…Shades. Right,” He says slowly, breaking eye contact for a split second.

“But I understand why you’d want to try. I just wish I could help you in some way, maybe smuggle you out on my next job.”

He perks up, gazing at you curiously, “You’ve been to the surface?”

“A few times for work. Though it has been a while since my last assignment…”

“What’d you have to do?”

Oh, you know: make contracts with humans and feed off them until they’re a husk of their former selves. You know, as succubus do. You settle on, “Demon things. You wouldn’t get it.”

Zagreus shrugs, unable to argue with that.

“… Suppose you do find your mother and get your answers,” You start, tone low and nervous. You swallow, trying to keep your nerves from wracking your vocal cords, keeping the tremble out of your voice. “What-what do you plan to do after?”

“That depends,” Wild, black hair falls over his eyes as his gaze drops to the floor. “If she hates me or not.”

You cock your head. Was that fear in his tone? For a moment, you allow yourself to study his broad back, scolding yourself when you admire the exposed ridges of muscle. Harsh, green light frames his profile, turning him into a slim silhouette among the soft shadows of your chamber. But now, as he sits at the edge of your bed, no longer he looks poised and regal as he usually does. No boons livening the air around him, no charming grin or cocky smirk. Posture be damned, he slouches, beautiful lips pressed thin, and he looks defeated—no, he looks…

Tired.

It never occurred to you how miserable your friend is here in the Underworld. He always seemed so lively by the time he reached your chamber, even when he’s scuffed and bloodied, like the heat of battle cheers him up. And yes, it’s Tartarus; souls are supposed to be despaired, miserable, tortured—for gods’ sake, it’s your jobs—but looking at Zagreus, exhausted yet still handsome as ever in his flaming laurels and refined chiton, feet seering footprints into your floor, he looks out of place in your humble abode.

Your heart clenches, suddenly self aware. Self conscious. Differences that hardly mattered before now at the forefront of your thoughts.

“I’m not finished, by the way.”

You meet his gaze, visibly perplexed though it’s painful. His heterochromia, the contrast of the blood red and forest green, is needlessly beautiful, as if the man isn’t magnificent enough already. Curse his family for whatever genes they poured into him.

The bed rises once more and as Zagreus leaves for the balcony, the gap between you—once miniscule and quickly closing—begins turning into a chasm.

“My drawing. It’s nowhere done.” Stopping before the balcony’s threshold, Zagreus gestures to the sketchbook. You sit up, blankets and furs pooling into your lap as you take it into your hands.

You, or a semblance of yourself at least, stares back. The strokes are short, thick, lines of charcoal jagged and uneven, though that’s to be expected. Zagreus snorted at you he buys art not create it, but that did nothing to deter him from trying. You lent him your sketchbook and pencils anyway, the thought of sharing your hobby with him filling you with giddiness you haven’t experienced in gods’ know how long.

As you study the amateur sketch of yourself, your heart swells so big, it terrifies you. There’s scuffed edges where the side of his palm pressed into the strokes, leaving partial prints. The proportions are atrocious, and if he’d been anyone else you’d tear into him. Yet, far from accurate as it may be, he manages to highlight your most discernible features. Just not the ones you expect. It’s not your chest or your hips or waist or even your legs, no.

It’s the fluid lash of your tail as you lay on your stomach, as if he tried to capture the cat-like movements on paper; the draping of your wings and the way you relax them against your back like a blanket; the graceful curve of your horns, the ends pointed not in a threat but a promise. And your face—

Smudges blot all over the background of your figure but most of all where your face is, the paper slightly damaged as if he erased one too many times trying to capture your visage.

Your heart skips. Blood and darkness.

As Zagreus’s back disappears behind the rumbling door to the next chamber, it’s for the best, you think, left to the familiarity of your quiet chamber. Your heart thunders in your ears.

Zagreus and you, a demon—a succubus? You’d never last.

As friends. As friends, of course.

This is for the best.

It’s for the best.

…Is it possible to feel loss when there is nothing to begin with?

Eyes misting over, you snatch up your sketchbook and pencils, letting your tears stain the page with Zagreus’s eyes still fresh in your mind.

It’s for the best.

#zagreus x reader #hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus and reader #zagreus (hades video game) x reader #zagreus (hades video game) and reader #supergiant hades

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samantha-rae-velcher · 1 year

Text

Little one Pt. 3

Paz Vizsla x Fem reader

Requested by: @canadian-snow-queen @kchavez666 💗💗💗

Warnings: FLUFF!! Protective!Paz, Possessive!Paz, swearing, violence, use of a firearm.

A/n:If you don't like the Warnings please don't read! PLS KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!

PART 4 WILL CONTAIN SMUT 👀

___

Din had asked the rest of the Mandalorians if they would join him in his fight against the pirates on Navarro. They had all agreed to help, after Paz Vizsla's glorious speech. Y/n was sitting in the ship next to Paz and the other Mando's, they were to be dropped out of the ship and onto the planet surface. Y/n was leaned over, her elbows rested on her legs, lightsaber in hand. She rolled it around in her hands, memories of the past flooding her brain. When she was training, Yoda teaching her the force, he was a wonderful master. He was fair and patient, always taught in intricate detail, showing her everything.

"Do or do not, there is no try." She whispered.

"What did you say?" Paz asked.

"Word's from a wise man. A great man....and Master."

She felt a hand rest on her back, gently rubbing circles.

"If you're afraid-"

"I'm not. I want to fight along side the man I love."

Y/n's gaze met his visor, she gave him a soft smile as she gripped his arm. The large door underneath their feet opened and she looked down to the rocks.

"You don't have a jet pack." Paz said.

"I don't need one."

The chairs dropped from under them and they plummeted it the ground, Y/n landed on her feet with no trouble. The Mandalorian's flew above and headed towards the city, she looked up and a pirates smaller ship caught her eye. Y/n jumped, using the force to go higher, she landed on the top of the vessel, startling the piolet.

With the blue flash of her lightsaber, the ship was going down. She split it in two and jumped off, landing on another one, in which she did the same thing to.

Just before it could hit the ground she leaped off and landed next to Paz in the city, swinging her saber to deflect blaster fire. Vizsla watched as she swiftly moved, knowing when and where the shots was coming from. It amazed him, she suddenly jumped and landed with a boom, knocking over a group of pirates.

Y/n came back to him and took his blaster cannon, aiming at the pirates in the tower. She fired at them until all that was left was a hole in the side of the building and a cloud if smoke.

"This baby is awesome. Imma have to get me one of these." She laughed, handing it back to Paz.

The battle went on, most of the enemy ships were destroyed when one of them locked onto Y/n and started chasing her through the city, shooting at her everytime she accidentally came out into the open.

Soon the relentless pursuit ripped all the energy from her, and she was shot in the side. Paz heard her cry and bolted towards her position, when he saw her laying in the dirt he faced his cannon towards the ship and fired, taking the entire front of it off.

He ran to Y/n's side, picking her up and bringing her into the school. Paz laid her down on a bench, taking a look at her wound. Y/n's eyes slowly opened when he whispered her name, she flinched, feeling the pain.

"Fuck." She cursed.

"It's alright, I'm here. I need you to stay awake, you're loosing a lot of blood."

He stayed with her until Din came plowing in with a good portion of the Mandalorians and Greef Karga. They brought her into the infirmary, Paz held her hand the entire time. Her eyes never left him, her gaze occasionally drifted down his large form, but never did it falter or look to anyone else.

A shock of pain made her cry out when the doc pressed something to her wound.

"Paz!" She shreaked.

He got close and gripped her hand tighter.

"I'm here, Little one. I'm right here."

Y/n buried her head in his shoulder and kissed the fabric that covered his neck, the gesture making his heart beat faster.

___

Y/n sat in the covert, staring at the fire. A Mandalorian male watching her from across the cave, making her feel uneasy.

"Got an issue there, Bub?" She asked, not looking up from the flames.

He stood slowly stalking over to her his helmet tilting, he crouched down beside her and gently turned her face towards him.

"I see why Vizsla is so drawn to you." The Mando whispered. "Your beauty is beyond any other."

The look in Y/n's eyes made him chuckle. She looked like she wanted to kill him, but he knew she was far too weak. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, he was leaning closer when he felt a blade being pressed to the back of his neck.

"Take your hands off of her." Paz's voice growled from behind the man.

"Vizsla." The Mando turned to him, still crouched. "Have you claimed her yet? I haven't heard you voice it."

"She's mine." Paz's tone got deeper the longer the other Mando stayed next to Y/n.

Suddenly the man swung his spear at Vizsla, Knocking him back. Going at him again, he was pushed backwards into the fire. His cloak went up in flames forcing him to shrug it off his shoulders.

The man charged again, stabbing at Paz but missing every time. He was thrown against the wall and was about to swing again when he felt weight against his throat, he coughed attempting to breath but it was impossible.

He fell to his knees, causing Paz to step back in shock and confusion. The other Mando looked to Y/n, Paz fallowed and saw Y/n with her hand raised to him.

The look in her eye was pure anger, the color slowly faded in and out from e/c to yellow then back to e/c. Y/n's arm dropped and she fell on her side. The other Mando gasped for air and sat back against the cave wall.

Paz came over to her, taking her in his arms and carried Y/n to their shared room. He set her down on the cot and brushed her hair out of her face.

"You never cease to amaze me." He whispered.

A weak smiled spread over Y/n's face and her eyes fluttered open. She reached her hand out, running it down his side, feeling his muscle. Paz's breath hitched when he felt her hand stop at his clothed cock. She slowly palmed him through his flight suit, making him lean forward.

"Amaze me, Vizsla." She moaned, biting her lip.

He came closer, his voice so close to her ear.

"You're playing with fire, Little one."

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #requested #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz Vizsla x Y/n #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian season 3 #the mandolorian x you

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injuries-in-dust · 2 years

Text

Just a heads-up: I’ve now decided that Rin is Australian, hence her common use of the name Kook for the alien. I’ve scattered some Australian slang -or what google tells me is Australian slang- through the story, but not being Australian myself, I might not use it correctly. To any readers down-under, I apoligise.

A sign of trust.

Part 2.

Read Part 1 here.

Consciousness didn’t arrive all at once. There was no sudden awakening with a dramatic gasp while sitting bolt upright.

What came instead was stops and starts of awareness as her brain slowly woke up.

Rin became aware of a hard surface underneath her. I’ve probably fallen asleep on the floor of the ship, she thought to herself.

Then there was the ache in her bones. Naturally, her thoughts came to her, If I’ve been asleep on the floor of the ship.

Among the last things to arrive was a feeling of warmth, a smell of smoke and fresh air, and the noise of something that was similar, but not quite, like crickets. A nice relaxing night under the stars with a campfire, just what I need after the crash. THE CRASH!

Finally her eyes opened.

Unfamiliar stars were overhead, almost drowned out by the bright white -with just a touch of gold colouring- glowing arch from a ring system which surrounded the planet. With all of her bones and muscles protesting with pain, she managed to sit herself up, propping herself on the elbow which hurt the least.

She was laying in the dirt, not ten feet from the wreckage of her ship. A small camp fire had been built nearby.

Her injuries had been dressed. A splint was wrapped around her leg, thick bandages, made of some strange plant-like material, covered her shoulder -she hadn’t even realised she was injured there- and there was covering she could see, just at the corner of her vision, handling her head-wound.

Two yellow eyes flashed in the shadows and Rin only just managed to stifle a yelp as she realised what it was.

A Kook was resting on a low branch of a nearby tree. Its thick tail was coiled around the trunk to anchor it in place, while its large membranous wings were wrapped around the branch itself.

Had they been sleeping, or just waiting? Rin tried to dampen those thoughts. she’d been pulled to safety and her wounds were dressed. if the Kook were some kind of predator intent on eating her it could have done that easily while she’d been unconscious. So there was some civility to these creatures. They had, at least, basic medical knowledge and a desire to help injured beings that were not their own species. These were good signs pointing toward the Kook’s being an intelligent, perhaps even humane, race.

Its eyes glinting in the low firelight it regarded her from its perch. As always, its expression was unreadable and there was no body language to speak of. She couldn’t tell if it was afraid, curious, concerned, or any of a dozen other emotions a human would be feeling in a similar situation.

They stared at each other for almost a full minute, though it felt like longer the silence between them was growing more awkward with each passing second.

Finally, it was Rin to break the ice. “G'day.”

The Kook blinked and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, flinch. Had it been surprised that she had spoken?

“I'm Rin.” She pointed to herself as she said her name. “Rin. I'm Rin.”

The Kook looked at her for a few seconds, then opened its wide mouth. “KOOA WA-WA-WA HA!”

Rin clapped her hands to her ears. A bad move as fire burned through her shoulder. She almost fell flat onto her back again, but managed, only just, to keep herself upright.

She could see how they'd earned their name, but the Kook was louder than any Kookaburra she'd ever heard. It was like someone shouting at full volume.

The Kook shrank back, slightly, away from her. It made more noises, but at the low whispering volume she'd heard before. “Chicki-tuki-tuk. TZEeee?”

Rin just glared as she lowered her hands. “Bloody great Galah. You trying to make me go deaf? I got enough stuff broken without my eardrums being added to the list.”

“Keeer HAA!”

“Same to you, arse-wipe.” She muttered sarcastically. She had to lay back down as her head started to swim.

The Kook opened its wings and released its tail, rolling from the branch to hover in the air. It moved down low until it was barely a foot from the ground. It approached cautiously, as though afraid she was going to spring up and attack.

It probably was afraid of exactly that. Rin realised that the Kook was just as afraid of her as she was of it. Just as she was guessing the motive behind every gesture it made, the Kook was probably doing the same for her.

Rin assessed her situation as quickly as her muddled head could allow.

She was injured, stable for now but a splint and field dressing wasn't a permanent solution. She needed whatever this world's equivalent of a hospital was. The longer she stayed out here the more chance that her wounds would get infected.

She would need food and water before too long. She could guess she was a little dehydrated and wondered how long she'd been unconscious. She would need to get some shelter from the elements. What was the weather like on this world? The night didn't seem too cold, would that mean the days could be desert hot? Even a light rain wouldn't be doing her any favours in her current condition. She looked to her vessel and doubted that her emergency supplies -food rations, water packs and the pop-up shelter in particular- had survived the impact in one piece

Her ship was a wreck, she didn't have to get close to see that. The super-structure was almost folded in two, the cockpit was fried and most of the outer hull had been scorched away by her uncontrolled entry into the planet's atmosphere. The thing had been built for controlled descents into decently equipped space-ports, not playing the role of a meteorite in the back of bourke on an uncharted planet.

There was some hope though. She had an ample supply of spare power packs in the hold and she just needed one to be intact. The communications system was a tough nut to crack. The engineers who built these interstellar sloops wanted to ensure that, if everything failed, you could still call for help. If she could pull the comms unit out of the wreck and hook it up to a power supply she could turn on the emergency signal beacon. All she needed to do was activate it and any civilised planet in this sector of space would know where she was.

And there was the difficult part. She could hardly sit up right now, let alone go poking through the ruins of her ship and lift out some hefty equipment.

She looked over to the Kook who had stayed with her. It was moving cautiously around the perimeter, never leaving the firelight, but staying well out of arms reach of Rin. It hardly took its eyes off of her, only glancing down for the briefest of seconds before looking back up at her. In its hands was a slowly growing collection of sticks and dry grass.

Rin realised what it was doing. “Good idea, the fire is getting a little low.”

“KOOA-WA-AA-A-A-A!”

Rin could only wince at the volume. It was even worse close up. It wasn't loud enough to cause actual pain, but there was a definite discomfort and her brain yelling at her that she was too close to the loud nose. “Bite your arse. There's no need to shout.”

She rested her uninjured hand on her brow. A headache was coming on, or maybe she was just starting to notice it as adrenaline, endorphins, and whatever else a body made to cope with pain, started to wear off. “I need a drink. You got any water?”

The Kook gave her the same indecipherable expression as it loaded the fire with its bounty of woodland detritus. “Cu-cu-cu?” It twittered.

At least it was whispering again. Damn Kooks only seemed to have two volumes; one and eleven.

“Of course, you don't know what I'm saying.” She rubbed her eyes with her hands for a second before she stopped. She looked down at those hands and the memory of her using a hand signal to stop the Kook came back to her. It was a little fuzzy, right before she'd passed out. A thought had tried to come to her then. It arrived now.

“Water.” She shaped her hand like she was holding a glass and made a drinking motion near her mouth. “Water.” She tried putting her hands together in a natural bowl, or cup, shape and pretended to drink. She even added gulping noises as she drank her non-existent liquid.

“Cu-cu-cu?”

The Kook suddenly flared its wings wide, moving itself into an upright position and several feet off the ground at the same time. “KEEEEEERRR!” It tore off at high speed, rushing away into the darkness and quickly out of Rin's sight.

“You bloody great malaka!” She shouted after it. “I need help and you run away?”

There was no sound except for the light chirping of the space-crickets.

“If I did something to offend you, you gotta figure it wasn't on purpose.” Rin's expression softened.

“C'mon, you're smart enough to figure that out, you've gotta be.” Her eyes scoured the darkness for any movement. “They say your people have been to space a long time ago, you've got to be smart enough to figure that I don't know your customs.” She listened hard, hoping to catch a sign of the Kook returning.

There was nothing but the crickets, the crackle of the fire and the slowly quickening thud-thud-thud of her rising heartbeat. “You gotta be clever enough to figure out that I don't know when I'm being offensive to you.”

Darkness and nothing more. She was alone.

A pale shape came rushing out of the night. “KOOA WA-WA-WA HA!” The Kook returned, carrying a long earthenware container in its hands. It slowed down as it returned to the light of the fire and regarded Rin with the same blank expression.

Rin smiled as she fought against the sting of tears trying to form in her eyes. “Mate, I'm actually glad to see you. Don't do that again!”

“Ka-ka-ka.” The Kook approached Rin, holding out the container toward her. Rin saw there was liquid inside.

“Water!” She held out her arms and the Kook handed the jug over.

As she took it the alien put its hands together in the same bowl shape she had made earlier, it then mimicked the same motions she'd made; putting the cup to lips and drinking.

She almost laughed as she saw the little pantomime. Some thing, it seemed, could be universal between humanoid species.

Rin looked from her ship, to the Kook and back again, several times. Could it be done? It wouldn't be easy. Neither one of them could understand a word the other said. There was a chance it could work. It would be slow, no doubt about that. But if they had enough points of reference in common...

She just hoped she remembered enough sign language.

#writing #my writing #science fiction #A sign of Trust #Part 2 #humans are weird #humans are strange #humans are cool #aliens are cool

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elliemarchetti · 15 days

Text

Possibilities

Inspired by this comic and @microficmay’s prompt 29. You can picture this as part of Comfort in Times of Pain’s universe if you felt sorry for Marlene but are into Wolfstar (and sapphic monster romance, if you squint) OR as the prologue of a Sirius x Marlene x Remus story (I’m starting to get into throuples and I see the potential here, so if you’re interested DM me with ideas and I will write them!)

Prompt: Thrall

Words: 708

Marlene was walking on the shores of the Great Lake with a cigarette between her lips, one of her usual walks to clear her mind after an argument with Sirius, when she felt the water behind her move unnaturally, as if something big was shifting underneath the surface. A hissing voice called out to her, and as she turned, she met a pair of yellow eyes set like precious stones in a semi-human face with greyish skin, framed by long green hair similar to algae hanging from the reef. The mermaid had a long silver tail and sharp teeth, exactly like the Care of Magical Creatures book pictured them, but her interest didn’t seem to be direct on the fresh human flesh that made up Marlene’s body, but rather on the fag from which a thin line of smoke emerged and quickly mixed with the fog extending from the water to the land.

“Does it work with your gills?” she asked, waving the cig.

“Not exactly good for your lungs either,” the mermaid replied, making her laugh. Even though her accent was a little creepy, and the Headmaster has told them to stay away from mermaids and centaurs alike, Marlene saw no harm in bagging one with a favour that cost her nothing, so she gave her a cigarette and lit it for her.

“I thought the agreements prohibited you from coming to the shores,” Marlene commented, to fill the silence, as she sat down on the stony shore.

“They heavily suggest it,” responded the mermaid, pushing most of her torso out of the water, her elbow almost touching Marlene’s exposed knee. “But I like it around here: the people are nice and there’s some kids who give me some of their scampi on Friday night if I show them my tits.”

Marlene laughed again. That’s where Peter and Carter disappeared with all that food every Friday night, then. She wondered if they realized the mermaid had no real boobs. They should’ve asked her to blow the smoke out of her gills, like she was doing now. The show was definitely more interesting than whatever they thought they were getting.

“You don’t seem to be bothered by me,” stated the creature, the corners of her thin lips slightly raised, as if the fact amused her, or made her someway happy.

“I’m used to non-humans,” she retorted, thinking of Remus and his condition, how the moon affected his mood and his energies. Even though they thought they had kept the secret perfectly, the Marauders weren’t exactly the most cautious people in the world and it took Marlene very little to connect her classmate’s absences to the lunar cycle. The fact that Lupin was a werewolf in no way changed the respect and affection she had for him: he was her friend, regardless of what had happened to him when he was a child and which was probably also the cause of the long scars that crossed his face. She heard many girls call him disfigured and lament the uneven, white tissue as a waste of beauty, but Marlene still found him handsome, one of the few things she actually agreed on with Sirius.

“Would it be rude to ask if we could be… regular?” inquired the mermaid, hopeful. “I don’t get to see many girls often and I enjoy to chat.”

“Sure,” Marlene rejoined, surprised but flattered. “Just, don’t siren me.”

“I wouldn’t,” countered the mermaid. “Thralls make terrible conversation. Furthermore, it would be a pleasure to have a human friend I could borrow magazines from. I love to look at all your pretty clothes.”

“And I’d love to hear some underwater gossips,” added Marlene. “I bet some interesting shit happens in this lake all the time and us students are blissfully unaware.”

“This time tomorrow?” asked the mermaid, and it was the first time Marlene saw one of their kind so enthusiastic. “If I bring you some pearls, would you get us some food to share?”

“You don’t have to, it’s be my treat,” replied Marlene. “And I’ll leave some cigs and my lighter for you.”

“I can’t wait!” exclaimed the mermaid before diving back into the water, waving with one of her webbed hands. “See you tomorrow!”

#microficmay2024 #blackinnon #wolfstar #sirius x marlene x remus #wlw #monster romance #marlene mckinnon #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era #would it be illegal for marlene and the mermaid to have a relationship when mermaids aren't considered beings but beasts?#it was their choice tho #they can just be friends but since the comic that sparked this was tagged as wlw why not #i may not be the number 1 supporter of lesbian marlene but she's bi in my heart

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