#the general response would just be either amusement / slight surprise / or no reaction in the slightest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spectre-fivee · 3 years

Text

Over the Moon: Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8081 (wtf this is so close to Anakin’s secret password or whatever, also WOW this is easily the longest piece I’ve ever written)

Warnings: HEAVY smut, both male and female receiving oral, unprotected sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, heavy use of the word ‘master’, dom/sub play, slight brat taming, praise and humiliation kink, edging, slight force play & restraint

A/N: Hey yalllll I’m back with another smut LMAO this is a prequel to let me take care of you, my first obi-wan smut :DD this is LONG asf and includes a small backstory but I promise the majority of it includes smut scenes lol. I hope you guys enjoy and I love your feedback!! much love <3

******************

You were over the moon when you found out that you would be accompanied by General Obi Wan Kenobi on your next business trip.

Literally. Quite literally, you were over the moon. You had just coincidentally flown over Centax-3 and were now in pursuit to Coruscant's surface in preparation for your oncoming journey, and you were so beyond excited that you found it hard to contain yourself around your personal guards. Just as you entered the planet’s atmosphere, you decided you had enough of the automated briefing and muted the transmitter on your arm. You were too focused on the fact that you were going to be alone with General Kenobi for an entire day.

Well, night really. You had managed to catch that part of the briefing.

You could watch it later. As you packed, perhaps. It was fine.

Feeling like a little girl as you basically pranced back to your quarters, you lugged a small bag out of your closet and began to fill it with necessities.

Being a senator for so many years had forced you into countless situations with General Kenobi, but never such as this one. When you met the Jedi Knight in the beginning of your career, the two of you clicked almost instantly. Over time, your admiration of the man blossomed into something...different.

Oftentimes the general would escort you from the Senate Chamber itself all the way to your office on the third floor. He had always been so well spoken and full to the brim with witty charm, enough to make you feel like a total schoolgirl when you locked yourself in your office, squealing and jumping up and down after your encounters with him. Sometimes, you would accompany Obi Wan on walks both inside and outside the building. One time, he was kind enough to show you the gardens outside the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Other times, you were simply by his side in the senate halls, holding your stomach as you just about died of laughter. It was all you could do to keep yourself from absolutely melting when he looked at you with those glittering blue eyes, his lips curved up into a smirk.

Butterflies swarmed in a vicious frenzy as you packed your bag, your cheeks so hot you thought you might explode just at the thought of General Kenobi. You looked up when you heard a soft knock at your door. “Come in,” You had said before a guard stepped inside and informed you that you were leaving earlier than the time scheduled. You nodded and rose to your feet swiftly with a polite smile.

“That’s alright, I’m already prepared.”

***************

The only thing you had forgotten was to finish watching the automated briefing.

Which, arguably, should have been at the top of your list. But somehow it had just slipped from your mind. Now, you were positioned in between General Kenobi and his commander, CC-2224, but you knew him as Cody. The two men remained quiet and Obi Wan tapped through the data pad in his hand. When you glanced at Cody, you couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking at or if he even had his eyes open under his helmet, he was so quiet. Either way, you cast him a polite smile when you glanced his way.

You felt kind of awful, really. This was, on your part, a mission regarding humanitarian aid, and you were the Galactic Republic’s representative in this instance. You didn’t know anything about this planet you were traveling to, only its name - Lelroth. You didn’t know the people’s conditions nor how much territory the Separatists occupied, that is, unless the citizens had decided to stand their ground.

A clone trooper’s voice came over the intercom of the transporter. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

You tried to peek at Obi Wan’s data pad in hopes of receiving any information. “Have you ever been to Lelroth?” You asked.

He glanced up at you. “No. Frankly, I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” You muttered quietly. His eyebrows quirked up as he stared at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You...received the briefing, correct?” He asked, and immediately your palms began to sweat.

“Of course I received the briefing.” You responded a little too defensively. He gave you a small grin before looking back down at the tablet in his hands.

You glanced over at Cody nervously as if expecting a response. You felt stupid after your eyes fell onto his yellow helmet, hearing Obi Wan step away and enter the pilot’s cabin.

“You didn’t watch the briefing, did you?” Cody asked, his voice hushed and amused.

“No.” You said. “No, I did not.”

You heard his chuckle through the moderator in his helmet as heat rose to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile and punch him playfully, giggling slightly. He leaned closer and began to fill you in quietly, and all jokes fell aside when you learned of the planet’s condition.

Few months prior, Lelroth had fallen under separatist control after the population had been forced under Count Dooku’s submission. The Republic Senate had been receiving reports of just about anything you could think of to describe a humanitarian crisis. You stumbled into Cody a bit as the ship landed.

“We’re here.” The pilot announced as the hatch lowered with a loud, steaming noise.

You squinted as bright sunlight poured into the cabin, raising a hand up to block the sun as Obi Wan stepped out. Lelroth’s atmosphere was thick and humid as you followed him, listening to the dirt crumble beneath your feet as you stepped out. You gazed around the enclosing woods with a small smile, the saturation taking you by surprise after being stuck on Coruscant’s smoggy surface for so long. Though it was muggy, the air felt clean and fresh as you took in a deep breath. You swore you could almost taste the moisture on your tongue.

“Preferably tomorrow morning, yes. I’ll be contacting the council tonight and…” The general’s voice came in and out of earshot as you glanced over at the assault carrier you arrived on. You watched as the clones nodded swiftly at the Jedi’s words, saluting him one last time before the hatch closed and the ship descended through the trees. It was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived.

Obi Wan sighed and pulled the data pad back out of the abyss of his dark cloak before tapping at the screen again. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?” He murmured.

You laughed slightly. “Is my presence such a bother?” The tablet still held his attention as he flashed you a grin.

“Oh, yes. That’s definitely the reason.” He joked.

A sickening feeling started to grab at your stomach after hearing Cody describe the condition on Lelroth. You were unnerved, and regardless of the fact that you had a Jedi Knight as your company, you two were members of the Galactic Republic isolated on separatist territory.

“We should get going.” You murmured. “They’ll be expecting us soon.” you watched Obi Wan pull his large hood over his head as he murmured something under his breath, stepping forward and heading deep into the thick forest with you on his tail.

****************

The Lelrothians were a kind people. Their reaction to your arrival with the general was rather pleasant - they went so far as to throw a feast in you and the general’s honor. After meeting with the chief of the village you would reside in, you finally got a real understanding of the Lelrothians’ situation. You and Kenobi shared a grimaced glance as the chief went on to describe the state of his village alone.

He explained how a large percentage of the newfound members in his village were forced to flee the capital city after falling under a dark hand. You assumed the state of the capital was even worse than this small village as he reported substantial amounts of depleted resources. Running water had been cut off to many families and citizens could no longer supply food on their tables. The chief even mentioned the punishments some experienced for resisting - you weren’t surprised in the nearest after hearing tales of the wicked actions of General Grievous and his clanker army, but still...it was hard to hear.

“We were neutral ground,” You gazed over the chief’s descending head tails as he spoke. Dinek Kev was a twi’lek himself, his account thick and common amongst most of his species. When you glanced around the table, there had to be over fifteen different species in just the room alone. Sullustans, Ithorians, even a few Gungans and a Wookiee occupied a seat at the table. You smiled to yourself and returned your attention to the orange skin of Chief Dinek as he spoke.

“A peaceful people. Nearly everyone in this room is an immigrant or comes from one, somebody who was seeking peace. Other pacifist planets such as Mandalore seem to have been fine as they’ve remained neutral.”

“Believe me, Chief - Mandalore has been experiencing a great deal of their own internal conflict.” General Kenobi spoke.

“Forgive me, Jedi.” Dinek murmured quickly. “I’m just...desperate. I would have never taken the role of chief if it weren’t for Grievous and his army - I only want to protect my family and my home.”

You reached out and took Dinek’s hand, staring into his eyes sympathetically. “I’ll open it up for discussion in the senate as soon as I return to Coruscant. I promise you, Chief Dinek, we’re going to provide Lelroth with humanitarian aid and drive the separatists out of here.”

“I’ll speak with the council tonight.” The hood of Obi Wan’s cloak hung lazily around his neck as he murmured, stroking his beard in his typical fashion. His delicate blue eyes were glued onto his empty plate. Dinek squeezed your hand and began to thank the two of you profusely. You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss the requirements in order for any agreement to come through within the senate.

“Chief Dinek,” You started. “The villagers are going to have to learn to defend themselves.”

All you got from him in response was a simple blink, a common reaction among those the Jedi come to aid. Most planets that fall under separatist control hold peaceful populations, those who don’t believe in waging war and therefore seeing no need for a military. You desperately wished it didn’t have to be this way. It was heartbreaking seeing simple, innocent lives dragged into the Clone Wars, and one day, you hoped that the galaxy would evolve into one where war could be completely evaded.

“Defend ourselves? You mean train us to fight?” Dinek asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

“That is why we’re here.” Obi Wan explained. The chief finally slid his hand from yours and seemed to recoil at the words spoken. “The Jedi can only aid so much, Chief. The Lelrothians need to learn to defend themselves in order to be sure of complete safety from the separatists.”

After a moment of watching the chief calculate in silence, he looked up at you two with an entirely different expression on his face. He glanced around the dim room and gazed over his people with a small smile curved upon his lips. His eyes darted to yours before Obi Wan’s as he spoke.

“You’re right. The Lelrothians are never going to evade this if we don’t take matters into our own hands.” You smiled at Dinek’s words.

“Good.” Obi Wan stroked his beard again.

“I’ll leave for Coruscant at dawn and begin discussion in the senate.” You announced.

“Yes, and that is when training will begin. Tonight I will get an idea of when reinforcements will arrive on Lelroth. We’ll have a very short timespan to train, I suspect.” The general uttered.

“General Kenobi and I will stay in contact and you’ll be the first to know the senate’s decision.” You concluded. Dinek took your hand again and smiled/

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” As he spoke, music began to sound from the instruments held by those up on a small, makeshift stage. The villagers began to cheer and rose to their feet, clapping along to the tune that billowed out from various horns. You grinned as the chief stood and joined his people, taking a woman’s hand delicately and spinning her in delight.

You looked over at Obi Wan with a smile. He looked up at you and met your gaze with the rise of an eyebrow. “What?” He asked.

“Wanna dance?” You giggled. He merely scoffed.

“That would seem a bit unprofessional.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Oh, lighten up, General. They threw an entire feast in our honor, surely we can dance with them.”

He smiled at you sarcastically. “I’ll pass.”

“C’mon. You know you want to.” You pressed, nudging him playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answered simply.

“Just relax. It’s not like you’ll get kicked out of the order or whatever. It’s just dancing!” He glanced up at you in his seat as you stood, grinning down at him.

“You can be very nagging, did you know that?” He asked. You offered your hand, the same stupid grin plastered onto your lips. He scoffed again and reluctantly took it, rising to his feet slowly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He muttered with a grin as you pulled him over to the crowd and were instantly submerged by cheers, laughter, and celebration, having the time of your life with Obi Wan at your side.

**********************

The celebration soon came to an end and after a brief escort from Chief Dinek and a few of his men, you and General Kenobi arrived at the motel you would come to stay at briefly. The neon lights of the vacancy sign cast a bleached hot pink color onto the gravel beneath your feet. It crunched and crumbled as you stepped, tuning out of Obi Wan and Dinek’s conversation as you were led into the cramped lobby.

The wallpaper was faded and chipping in the room surrounding the front desk. A small Sullustan woman sat in an organically shaped velvet chair with a book open in front of her. Dinek stepped forward and quickly informed her that you and Kenobi were the reinforcements sent from Coruscant. You listened as she told the chief that there was only one room available, in which you and Obi Wan shrugged off. She thanked the two of you, passed over the room key and sent you on your way. As you trudged up the wooden stairs that led to the second floor, you heard Obi Wan sigh.

“Tired from all that dancing, General?” You chuckled. “You sure know how to get down.”

“Yes, but you on the other hand…” He trailed off, and when you looked back at him with a dramatic expression on your face, he chuckled.

You smiled and swiped the key card through the slot outside the door. “Whatever.”

The two of you didn’t think much of the fact that there was only one room available. It didn’t matter to either of you, because all motel rooms generally contain two separate beds, right?

Wrong. Apparently, all hotel rooms except this one contained two separate beds. Your jaw wanted to hang open at the sight of it, really. Obi Wan froze in his tracks when he entered the compact room.

“Not even a sofa?” you commented. The door still hung open behind you when Obi Wan turned and met your gaze almost frantically.

“There has to be a mistake.” He said.

“She said this was the only room available. Dinek said this was the only lodge in the village.” You mumbled, finally shutting the door.

“Right, well.” The general uttered and stroked his beard once again, beginning to pace as he did so. “I guess I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the floor, you have to train in the morning.” You watched as he traveled over to the chairs seated at a tiny round table in front of the window. They were a brilliant orange in contrast to the faded, once flamboyant green walls.

“No. The chair will do.” He said as he sunk into the cushion. “See?” He planted his feet onto the stem of the table, pushing it back so it allowed him to stretch his ankles over the surface. You only stared at him with your eyebrows raised.

“It beats the floor.” Obi Wan shrugged. You shook your head, smiling as you sat on the edge of the bed. You were facing forward, looking at the painting that hung on the wall before you. The sheets on the mattress were an ugly plaid that was laced with oranges, reds, greens and browns. It was very dated, but at the same time it almost felt...homey.

“We’re adults, aren’t we?” You chuckled. “This is only a business trip, General. Stars, if we have to we can just build a pillow wall between the two of us.”

When you didn’t get an immediate response, you glanced over at him only to see the amused expression on his face. But it was the kind of amused look that nearly belittles you and makes you feel completely and utterly ridiculous.

“Yes, and a business trip it will remain.” He uttered. “I do hope you’re joking.”

Your cheeks grew hot in flustered embarrassment. “Uh - I mean, yeah. Totally kidding.” You darted your eyes to your feet and began to swing them back and forth childishly. You heard chuckling from the general’s end but didn’t dare look over at him. You didn’t need to, you already knew he was sitting back and staring at the data pad again.

Moments passed and you had nothing else better to do than sift through the dusty magazines that sat below the bedside table. The lamp atop the metal surface cast a warm, dim yellow light through the room. It made you feel almost cozy as you flipped through the old pages, reading the articles and gazing at some of the most beautiful alien models you had ever laid eyes on. “Wish they had a holonet in here.” You muttered, bored and wishing for some kind of noise instead of this awkward silence that hung in the air.

Time continued to drag on and it grew late enough for you to decide to head into the bathroom to change your clothes. You turned the handle and listened as the faucet began to run while staring at yourself in the mirror. The general seemed grumpy after your comment, and you weren’t sure why. It was easily played off as a joke, you thought...besides, you only wanted to save him from a little back pain and stiffness in the morning.

You were only trying to be polite. And, well...you were secretly hoping for a little more than that.

As you splashed warm water onto your face, you heard Obi Wan’s voice from the other side of the door and watched as his figure cast shadows across the tile you stood on. The automated voice of Master Yoda and Master Mace Windu echoed around the small room as the general began to discuss with the council.

When you stepped out of the bathroom and crawled under the covers, you tried your best not to eavesdrop on his conversation. You stared at the magazine in your lap blankly.

All he was doing was pacing, it was rather distracting. You wished this place had a radio or something, or that it was safe enough to take a short walk. The meeting between Obi Wan and the other Jedi Masters seemed to last eons as you found your eyelids growing heavy. You stared at the cover of the magazine, it showcased a twi’lek woman posing in front of a ship. You yawned, cast it aside and allowed sleep to take over completely.

******************

When you woke up, it was still dark outside. The lamp beside your bed had been shut off by Obi Wan, but the one hanging above the chair he sat in remained lit as he set down the data pad with a sigh. You weren’t sure what had woken you up, and as you gazed at the general while you laid on your side, you didn’t really care.

You could tell he was weary as he blinked slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. Glancing away, you felt slightly creepy as you stared at him for so long. But, I mean, could you really blame yourself?

After moments of silence, Obi Wan was the one to break it. “My apologies. I didn’t realize that the meeting would take so long.” His voice was deep and a bit croaky as it came out.

“It’s okay.” Was all you said as he reached for the light above him.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the bed?” You made sure it was apparent that you were joking as you smiled and chuckled, gazing at him as you did so. He paused for a moment, staring at you before his lips curved up into a grin.

“I see that pillow wall is still up for discussion?” He teased, and you laughed again.

“C’mon, it won’t bite. Besides, I’m only trying to save you from a little back pain.”

“Senator, are you implying that I’m old?” He chuckled.

“No, but I do understand that the dancing was already a step over the line for you.” You giggled, smirking. “Hurry up with that decision making please, I’m tired.”

Obi Wan laughed slightly before reaching up and turning off the light. To your disappointment, he didn’t stand up from his chair. You sighed softly and shut your eyes, letting go of the situation as you focused on falling asleep again.

Just as your mind began to wander, you felt a weight sink into the mattress beside you. Your eyes flew open as Obi Wan climbed into bed next to you, only to stare at the complete darkness that surrounded.

You grinned. “Did you change your mind?”

He sighed as he settled in. You could feel him, mere inches away from you as he relaxed. “Don’t make me regret it, Senator.”

You chuckled as darker thoughts began to consume you, reminding yourself that this was a business trip - strictly business. You wondered if Obi Wan thought the same, but you shot that down with another reality check as well.

You wanted to say something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were worried that Obi Wan was actually trying to sleep, and you didn’t want to disturb him, or worse - make things even more awkward like earlier. Now, more than ever, you knew you were never going to fall asleep with Obi Wan Kenobi lying next to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

“I can practically feel how restless you are at the moment.” He murmured.

“Am I moving too much or is it your spooky voodoo magic?” You asked. He began to chuckle softly.

“Do you mean the Force?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It doesn’t take a Jedi to feel you staring at me.” The grin in his voice made you feel even more embarrassed as you rolled over onto your opposite side, your eyes squeezed shut.

Obi Wan hesitated for a moment before murmuring, “I never said stop, darling. I don’t mind.” His words ignited a spark that released trillions of butterflies swarming in your stomach, and you couldn’t stop the gigantic smile that was forming on your lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” As you responded, you felt the general’s weight shift behind you.

His voice came from above you now. “Oh, you didn’t hear me clearly?” You felt his hot breath against your ear as he spoke his next sentence. “I said, I don’t mind your staring. I just wish you would stare at me when I could see you doing it.” His mumbling spiraled into your ear and descended down your body, pausing right in between your legs. You crossed them tight in instinct, nearly gasping.

“I thought you said this trip was strictly business, General.” You breathed.

“Like you said, I already crossed the line when you forced me to dance.” He joked. “Besides, I think we’ve both waited long enough for this moment.” His voice was hushed and gravelly and Stars, sexy as it rumbled into your ear. You turned until you felt his lips were hovering over yours in the darkness, the mattress creaking as you did so.

“You didn’t seem to think that way earlier.” You mumbled, a fat smirk on your face as you teased him. He sunk himself closer to you and you swore you felt his lips brush against yours for a second.

“Nobody needs to know,” He whispered. A moment of silence passed before he dove his lips into yours, drawing out a small sound of surprise from you. You felt his forearm come down beside your head and he let out the tiniest of groans. You knew this was coming judging by your previous dialogue, but you were still in shock. For a moment, you seemed to be dead weight as Obi Wan crawled on top of you. The only thing that moved was your lips against his until realization finally kicked in.

It started with your hands, which rose up swiftly to grab the sides of his face. His beard felt scratchy beneath your fingers in the best way as you hooked your legs around his waist. You had always wanted to touch him like this, to feel and move with him as your mouths were connected and one was on top of the other. It was something you could only fantasize about for the longest time until you had to tell yourself it was never going to happen. But now, it was happening.

His lips were as soft and welcoming as the pillows beneath your head as he kissed you. It was deep and passionate and almost aggressive, and that alone confirmed to you that Kenobi wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Following your hands came your tongue as you pressed it between his lips gently, silently asking for entrance into the warm cave of his mouth. He granted permission and you felt his hand entangle in your hair when your tongues met. You sat up slightly, pushing yourself into him further as you dragged your teeth across the pink valley of his bottom lip. The grip nestled in your hair tightened in reaction and you giggled softly into him.

He tasted of fresh mint, and you found yourself wondering if he had brushed his teeth mere moments before this. He was dominating and absolutely thrilling as he rolled over, allowing you to straddle his waist and dip your chin down to his neck to leave a series of pecks down his flesh.

“Someone’s eager,” he commented, and in response you bit down slightly into his skin. He made a small startled noise in response before chuckling, abruptly flipping you onto your back. He left you breathless as his lips collided into yours again, and he groaned when you arched into him. His hands were absolutely everywhere. They ran from your jaw to your neck and then down to your forearms, back up to your shoulders and down to your breasts, down to your waist to grab at your hips...seemingly all at once.

He squeezed his fingers into the meat of your thighs and you groaned, raking your own through his hair. You felt like his touch was all you needed as your tongue slid against his.

Darkness still engulfed the two of you. Obi Wan’s skin was on fire when he caressed you, the heat between your legs was set ablaze as he dipped his chin down, his lips traveling down your neck slowly. You wanted to see him, his face when he looked down at you, his blue eyes clouded with lust. You wanted to look into his eyes and absolutely moan his name, you wanted to -

Obi Wan’s lips left your skin just above the hem of your shirt. He paused for a moment, holding himself before you and panting. “What is it?” You asked.

“Take off your clothes.” He commanded. You felt him lean to the side and squinted when the lamp was switched on. You didn’t respond as your eyes adjusted to the light, you only peered at him rather dumbly. You watched when he dragged his tongue across his lower lip. His eyelids looked heavy when he stared down at you.

“Did I stutter?” He asked. Your heart picked up pace and you grinned when you grabbed the neckline of his robes and yanked him forward.

“Why don’t you take it off for me?” You mumbled, blinking innocently. You felt your wrists fly above your head, elbows bent slightly as they tied together under an invisible grasp. You were confused for a moment as the general began to run his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your sides and traveling over your breasts briefly. It took a moment before it finally dawned on you that he was using the Force as your restraint.

He slid the fabric up ever so slowly and stared at your stomach when it was slowly revealed. He continued, his big warm hands sliding up your skin and pausing just as your breasts were revealed. He murmured something inaudible before tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you down on the mattress so his lips were level with your nipples. You moaned quietly, biting your lip as he began to kiss them. Your cunt was throbbing at this point and the muscles in your arms grew tired from being in such an unfamiliar position. You shut your eyes, but all at once the sensation on your breasts was removed as Obi Wan straightened his posture and finished ripping off your shirt. It came over your head quickly and was tossed to the side as if it were nothing.

“Can I have my hands back?” You giggled, breathless as he gazed at you.

He left soft, sweet kisses on the inside of your arms, his eyes twinkling as he had you paralyzed by the Force. “Not yet.” He said, and you didn’t have time to read the expression on your face before his lips were on your breasts again. You pushed your hips up against his chest as he continued, whining as he bit down gently onto your nipples. His lips descended down the center of your stomach, leaving slow, wet kisses on your skin before pausing just above the waistline of your pants. His blue eyes finally blinked up at you, and he was smirking.

Your cunt was throbbing so damn hard you wondered if he could feel it at this point. “Please,” You breathed. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet,” Obi Wan repeated before curling his fingertips around the hem of the fabric and dragging it down your thighs.

“This...isn’t fair.” You grunted as you tried to pull your wrists from their restraint. It was no use, it felt like your arms were paralyzed in this position. Your pajama pants were now being thrown to the side just as your shirt was, and the general was leaving small pecks up the length of your legs whilst holding strong eye contact.

“Please, general - “ your cunt felt like it was on fire when he lifted his chin to look at you.

“Did you...seriously just call me ‘general’ in this setting?” He paused, chuckling.

“Well, I - “ you were flustered and frustrated at this point. “I don’t know, what should I call you?!” You had snapped. He only grinned with a shrug before he continued, pulling at your skin with his teeth.

He dug his fingers into your sides, and in between slow kisses, he said, “Doesn’t matter...whatever feels...most...comfortable.”

You thought about it for a moment. Yeah, you supposed referring to him as General Kenobi was a bit strange as he was actively stripping you of your clothing. But it still didn’t feel right calling him Obi Wan, either. You weren’t sure why.

Your wrists were finally released as his lips reached the corner of your inner thigh just below your flaming heat. Your panties still hugged your hips when Kenobi glanced up at you, seeming like he had forgotten to hold your arms in place.

Without giving him any chance of reaction, you slid out from under him and pounced on him like a fucking animal. You giggled and he shared your smile as you sat on him and began to rid him of his robes.

Once they were off and you finally got to shower every possible centimeter of his skin with kisses, but he was quick to flip you back over so you were trapped beneath him again. You struggled to get atop of him with a grunt, but it was useless. He was already pinning your wrists to the sheets again and barricading you with his own weight.

“Behave.” Again, his voice rumbled right into your ear, hot and thick as he nipped at your earlobe. In response you arched your back into him and whined, digging your fingernails into his back.

“Let me touch you - “ you grunted. “I want to...to make you feel good. I can make you feel so good, Master.” You moaned, letting the words fall from your mouth without even a second thought. In an instant, his fingers were around your chin and you were being forced to look into his pretty eyes.

“What did you call me?” He asked.

You giggled. “You heard me.”

A minute went by before he moved his hand from your chin downwards, slowly tightening around your neck. “Say it again.” You smiled and tilted your head back, shutting your eyes and moaning the word again.

“Master.”

He let out a sound similar to a growl before he rolled over, positioning yourself on top of his lap. You could feel his large erection beneath you, and it was in the perfect spot as you rolled your hips forward and crouched down, allowing your lips to meet his.

He kissed you aggressively, placed one hand on the back of your head and forced you into him while the other snaked underneath the fabric of your panties, finding your clit almost instantly. You whimpered against his lips and continued to grind against his cock before using your own hands to remove yourself from the barricading fabric.

You were so desperate to feel him inside of you. He grabbed your chin again and forced your lips to part, staring at you with dark eyes and a wicked grin as he pressed the pad of his thumb to your lower lip. “So desperate for it, aren’t you?” He mumbled.

You huffed and tossed your underwear to the side before pressing your lips against his ear and murmuring, “Can you feel how wet I am for you, Master?”

He grunted and moved his hands to your hips, forcing them down onto his cock. You rocked them forward, letting the tip slide over your clit and through your slick folds with a moan. Fuck, this felt good. You lapped at his earlobe and giggled before continuing. “Just imagine how good it’ll feel when you put it in, so warm and wet and tight - “

“You’ll want to shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work.” He growled, and a wild grin spread over your face before you positioned him below your entrance.

You took him in slowly with a long moan and straightened you back, your breasts high and prominent for him to see. “Fuck,” you moaned. Your eyebrows furrowed as he filled you up.

Obi Wan grunted. “Stars, can’t you go any quicker?” He was frustrated as you giggled again.

“I think this feels fucking good.” You moaned again. “Your cock is so - “ you were cut off by his hand on your throat, forcing him down to his own face. He didn’t say anything, just silently forced your lips against his. It made you lose control of your pace, plunging down onto his entire length at once, drawing moans from both of you as you kissed.

“That’s better.” He mumbled against you. “Now do it again.”

You brought your hips up once more and slithered your tongue into his mouth, allowing them to fall back down, your cunt swallowing him whole in one stroke. Just as you started to kiss his neck again, you were flipped onto your back for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Would you just let me - “ The familiar grip on your chin cut you off, and your eyes were forced into his. With his other hand, he brought your knees to your chest and positioned himself at your entrance. He absolutely rammed himself inside of you without any issues, and your eyes widened when you gasped.

“I thought...I told you...to behave.” Obi Wan grunted in between his thrusts. Your fingers found their grip in the sheets beside you. Your back arched and you moaned while he pumped himself in and out of your wet cunt.

“If this is what I get for misbehaving…” you panted, tears pricking at your eyes from them being shut so tight. “...then I guess I’ll have to do it more often.”

General Kenobi let out a low groan as he continued thrusting into you, remaining his quick, hard rhythm. Your eyes met his as the two of you moaned, and his hand found its way back into the roots of your hair as he muttered, “Say it.”

“Master,” you mewled as he tugged on your hair, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he thrusted into you. “Master, your cock feels so good - “ his thumb was on your lip again when he interrupted you.

“Such filthy words coming from this pretty little face,” he murmured. “You like being dirty, don’t you? You enjoy being choked when you misbehave, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, your eyebrows only curved up when you moaned. His hips rolled forward and his cock was still sliding in and out of your folds. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, Master.” Your hand released its grip on the sheets and traveled down in between your legs to gently play with your clit, but Obi Wan stopped you, removing your wrist sharply.

“If you want it, beg for it.” He said slowly.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Please play with it - Master, please just touch my clit and…” you trailed off with whine as you felt his thumb slowly circling around it, agonizingly slow and so, so hot. You whimpered and rolled your head back into the pillow, tangling your hair against the cotton.

“Does that feel good, darling? Tell me how it feels.”

“Yes, fuck, it feels so good,” You panted, your eyes squeezing shut again. “It feels so fucking good, I might...I might cum,” you continued in between whimpers and moans. “Master - please let me cum.”

“Good girl.” He rasped before removing his thumb completely. You let out a sob as he pulled his length out from you, watching as he began to stroke himself when he lowered his head between your legs. “Such a good girl, asking for my permission.” He murmured before sliding his tongue up your heat ever so slowly, stopping at your clit to circle around it.

You whined, bucking your hips against him, grinding on his face as you babbled. “Fuck...this feels so good, your tongue, shit, I want your cock again - “

“You’ll have to wait for it,” he mumbled against you. Whining, you sat up and propped yourself on your elbows as you panted. You were a mess, and you continued to plead with him until he had enough of it and grabbed you by your shoulders. He forced you onto the floor, sitting on your knees as he sat on the mattress in front of you.

“If you won’t shut your mouth, I’ll just have to do it for you.” He muttered before pushing your head down onto his large cock. You let out a satisfied moan and made sure he was staring at you, remaining eye contact. You lifted a hand to stroke the base as your tongue swirled slowly around the tip, bobbing your head back and forth steadily.

Obi Wan moaned and shut his eyes. “Stars.” He murmured.

You released the tip with an audible pop, allowing a string of drool to fall from the edge of your lower lip. “It feels good, doesn’t it Master?” You planted your tongue to the base of his shaft and slooooowly dragged it up prior to rolling it over the tip and taking him into your mouth again. His breath hitched in his throat.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that? You’re so...good at this, you must have...had - practice...Stars, pretty girl...how are you so good at this?” He mumbled, grunting and moaning between the words that spilled from his mouth.

Again, his shaft left your mouth and you spit on your palm before using it to stroke him up and down. You blinked at him all innocent and doe-like. “I like it when you talk to me like that. Will you cum on my face, Master?”

Obi Wan blinked and grunted, thrusting his hips up into your palm. “You’re obscene.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” You planted a kiss on his tip before gliding your hands along his thighs and rising to your feet. You leaned forward and lifted his chin using your index and middle finger, smiling. “You like seeing me like this. You like making me your dirty little slut, don’t you, Master?” You blinked again and smiled sweetly before swinging your leg around his lap, straddling him.

He was absolutely mesmerized. “Don’t give me that look.”

You did it again, smiled softly. “Or what?” You challenged.

Just as your cunt was about to swallow his length again, you were thrown onto your back strongly and the general’s hand was once again tightened around your neck. His lips were on your ear and his fingers were dancing around your clit as he rammed himself inside of you. Your eyes filled with tears when you cried out, savoring the sudden sensations engulfing you. You moaned, feeling your voice vibrate against his hand.

“I like punishing you, you know.” His voice was low, and you moaned as he licked your ear. “You’re such a good girl when you want to be.”

“This isn’t...much of a punishment.” You grunted. He bit down onto your earlobe and you whimpered.

“Oh, we haven’t gotten to that part yet.” He rasped into your ear. His pace quickened and his fingers felt glorious against your clit. Your movements synced with his perfectly. You could feel yourself quickly approaching your climax as he kissed the skin on your neck, hitting all the perfect places when he pumped into you. It was as if he knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it.

You felt yourself caving in and desire dripped from your tongue as you moaned, “I’m gonna cum.” Just as the words fell, everything stopped. Obi Wan’s fingers and his cock left your cunt all at once, and you let out a cry just before his eyes met yours.

“Like I said before,” his lips brushed against your own as he purred into your mouth. “We hadn’t gotten there yet.”

You already had come down almost completely from your previous euphoric state when his fingers glided inside of you. You writhed and moaned under his touch and Stars, this man sure knew who to put his hands to work. When he lowered his lips back down to your clit, you thought you would just about lose your mind. “Fuck.” You moaned. “Please, Master. Let me finish.” You pleaded.

“Quiet.” He muttered before continuing. You obeyed and only continued to moan under his force, biting your lip and rocking your hips against his face as he pleasured you. His free hand slithered up your body and intertwined his fingers with your own as he worked in between your legs. You squeezed his hand so hard that you thought it would just about snap off. Obi Wan finally paused, blinking up at you from in between your legs.

“Are you going to behave now, darling?” He asked, still slowly working his fingers in and out of your cunt as he spoke. You nodded quickly.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes. I’m going to behave, I-I’ll be a good girl for you.” You said then added, “Master.” The general chuckled before instructing you to get on your elbows and knees, to which you obliged and rested your front end onto a cushy pillow. You arched your back, ass raised, and giggled when you received a slap on your ass before Kenobi positioned himself.

He grabbed at and pulled your hair, raising your head so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He planted a kiss onto your temple before murmuring,

“Pretty, pretty girl.”

Then, he rammed into you so hard and unexpectedly that you gasp and cry out his name. He clearly doesn’t catch it, and you shut your eyes as a single tear falls, continuing to cry out and whimper beneath him. Fuck, it’s amazing, and it’s everything you had ever fantasized it would be. You swear you see stars as he continues, pumping in and out of you again, again, and again...this position seems so much better than before, you thought. His grip is so tight on your hips that you think it may leave bruises, but hell, you love it. You want him to leave marks on you.

You think of all the times before that were filled with nothing but harmless flirting and charm. Now, everything will be different. You giggled at the thought of changing in the morning and seeing the bruises he left on your skin. You could feel yourself approaching your climax just at the thought of knowing that in this moment, you were his.

You almost didn’t want it to end, but you were so desperate to finish after having it ripped from you at the very edge. You were sweating, panting, and groaning the word “Master,” over and over again. “I’m gonna cum,” you said heavily.

“Go ahead.” Obi Wan seemed to gasp. Another tear fell down your cheek and you cried out louder than ever before as you crashed down onto him, all around him, everywhere. Absolutely fucking everywhere, and if it weren’t for the Jedi’s weight holding you up, you would’ve collapsed down into the mattress already. It hit like a fucking train wreck, and he remained his steady pace as your walls closed in onto his cock. You assumed he could feel your shaking, and when your breath heaved in and out of your lungs as you slumped against the pillow beneath you, you smiled a lazy smile.

The sound of Obi Wan Kenobi grunting and letting out a long, high-pitched moan as he came undone inside of you was just about the sexiest thing in the entire galaxy. He collided into the bed beside you, panting as he stared at the ceiling. You finally allowed your hips to fall and rested on your stomach, you head turned to face him. Beads of sweat rolled across his skin when he looked at you, and your thighs still quivered against the sheets.

He dragged two of his fingers softly underneath your chin. “Beautiful,” was all he could make out as he huffed beside you. You shut your eyes, that lazy smile still plastered to your face.

“Do you...think anybody heard us?” You asked, opening your eyes again. You gazed over his beard and his strong features as he peered at you.

“Oh, without a doubt.” He began to chuckle.

“Whoops.” You giggled. He rolled over and pressed his lips to yours briefly before responding.

“If I’m being honest, I really couldn’t care any less.” His voice was husky when he smiled as you pulled him back down, kissing him again and again until you fell asleep in your blissful state.

****************

Tags: @ifvckedurmom @thingsistan @lizajane3

-please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! I’m new to tumblr and everything to I don’t know who to add and stuff LMFAO so just let me know! <3

#obi wan x y/n #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x y/n #clone wars smut #tcw #tcw smut #star wars smut #star wars imagine #clone wars imagine #tcw imagine #smut

2K notes · View notes

dorimena · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! Your blog is beautifully constructed. I hope there will be more dom reader blogs like yours in the future. If you aren’t busy could I please have g/n reader brat taming Bakugou or Shinsou? I’ll leave it up to you to decide. Remember to drink water!

Hello! Thank you! (´ ω `♡) I chose Bakugou, but I might do something similar for Shinsou later on huhu~ And thanks for the reminder! I hope you’re hydrated as well! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; gender neutral reader, impact play (not too hard though), brat taming, crying, mentioned overstimulation, implied edge play, paddle, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; sex toy (cock ring), lowkey headcanon Bakugou being into impact play, some aftercare before round 2, mentioned safe word (cues like the traffic light colors), aged-up character, Bakugou is 18+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I hope you enjoy it notwhatiseem. I might’ve had to do some investigation, as I was unsure if my plan on how the story was going was a correct, or as correct, portrayal. Maybe in the near future Mr. Paddle will make a comeback-

𝕸𝖗. 𝕻𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

“Baby boy! What has gotten into you today?”

You scold Bakugou as he glares at you from the couch, arms crossed and body relaxed on the cushions as he tries not to show how his anger is making his body tremble.

Unlike you, because you’re quivering in anger, in utter disappointment with the stunt he decided to pull during the Bakusquad’s monthly game night.

It was a fun time, a casual time and place where everyone could leave behind their prohero responsibilities before somehow being dragged away to missions, patrols, paperwork, all the glorious hero work.

But Bakugou decided that this very night, in the very moment Kaminari ‘accidentally’ placed his hand on your thigh, that he’ll be a brat. A jealous brat, which is worse than his usual bratty behavior.

But he isn’t usually a brat? It’s confusing and a whiplash for you, not really expecting to punish him after months of him being so obedient, so nice, so docile with you and everything you wanted or needed.

“Answer me, Bakugou.”

Okay, that made him furrow his eyebrows in worry, wondering if he’s crossing a line, but that already happened the moment he began sassing back at you and insulting you. Not even playful banter, it was just outright rude and degrading.

He went against opening his mouth or talking in general, just huffing as he slouched a bit more into the couch, as if he wants the cushions to swallow him in or maybe he’s trying to keep riling up your mood.

“Sit up correctly.” You snapped, halting your pacing as you standing in front of him, hands on your hips as you take in his sitting position. He’s barely such a slouch; he’s taking this too far.

Or maybe you got too used to him being such a sweet baby boy that you forgot just how impatient you can sometimes get.

This is one of those times.

“You’re not gonna talk?”

He shakes his head. Well, at least he answered, but his posture remains the same.

Sighing, you leave the living room and head to the bedroom, rummaging through your closet to find- aha!

Bakugou, in the meantime, is trying not to let his nerves get to him, not wanting clammy palms and possibly causing more harm with his reactions. All he can hear is stuff being moved around in your shared bedroom and then hearing a small shout of victory.

But for what- wait, why the fuck did you take that out?!

“Alright, baby boy. I hope you remember Mr.Paddle. He will aid me in your punishment.”

No, no! Anything but the paddle! You’ve never used it, at all. Even if there were some close calls, you still never had it anywhere near his skin, or him. It was a gag gift you gave him out of the blue.

“No!” Bakugou yelled, getting on his feet as his arms fell on either side of him, eyes wide in shock and slight fear. How hard could you go with that? How bad will it hurt?

But your amused chuckle seems to make him even more confused. Aren’t you angry at him?

“So you speak when threatened, but not when spoken to nicely? I told you to sit correctly-”

“I will!”

“Baby boy.” Oh he’s done it. He interrupted you just as he was kind of redeeming himself.

Well, shit.

“I’m s-sorry…” He trailed off, slowly sitting down on the couch as he never loses eye contact with you, waiting to see if you’ll finally use the paddle or you’ll continue trying to talk things out.

But you made a good point: why does he only speak up when threatened with punishment instead of avoiding all of this anger?

“Baby boy. Today you’ve gotten bold with your actions and your words. But you’ve been terribly rude with Kaminari! Isn’t he your friend? What did he do wrong?”

You do know, but you wanted to hear it from him.

But Bakugou kept his silence, fidgeting on the seat as he battled his inner, mini Bakugous about the pros and cons of speaking up and answering.

The main pro is that he’ll be given attention.

The main con is that that attention will be given with the paddle.

Well, his pride be damned.

“He was touching you! I hate it when other people do!” He spoke out, voice raising in volume just a bit at the end, but he shyly whispered, “you of all people know how jealous I can get.”

“Oh~ so baby boy was jealous?”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands before taking them away in a flash, grimacing at how sweaty they are and how sweet it smells.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, goddamn it.”

“Language.”

He grumbled, pouting as he looked at you again, slowly averting his gaze to the paddle as it just stared back at him.

Why does he feel like even if he spoke, he’s going to get that touching him?

He was right after some time, his body moving forward with every hit you landed on his ass with the paddle, a cry of the number he’s on leaving his mouth as more drool lands on the bed, more tears wetting the sheets, more precum falling in stringy drips on the sheets.

He can’t even come to care about the rapidly dirty sheets, or even come to think about anything really. Not with how every smack he receives, the hornier he keeps getting. The tighter his hands grip the bed sheets, and if he were at least conscious with his actions, he would’ve heard fabric tearing up and smell a bit of burning.

Is he into this? Has he always been into this? Well, yes. But he didn’t think taking the paddle instead of your hand would be so much better.

God, please-

“H-harder! Please! H-hardeeeeer- ugh fuuuuuuuck.”

You snicker before rearing back into a serious expression.

“Excuse me? You’re not allowed to speak, baby. Keep counting.”

Bakugou groans before it ends in a sob, a weak ‘68’ coming out as you land the last spank on his bruising ass and a small ‘69’ squeaks out of his throat as he falls forward, face resting on a nearby pillow. And if you somehow catch his hips gyrate slowly against the bed and small, hoarse whines leave his body, you decide to ignore and let him come down from the high the way he usually does.

You’re quite surprised at how he hadn’t used his safe word, or any safe cues, within the spankings, and actually asked for you to go harder. But his bruises are enough to make you feel kind of bad, just a bit.

“You know,” you speak, throwing the paddle on the floor before rounding the bed, squatting to look at his tear stricken, blush decorated, sweat sticky face, “I knew you were a slut for impact play, but I didn’t think it’d be this much.”

Bakugou just mewls weakly, voice lost in his trance as he tried recollecting any thoughts of his, especially the coherent ones so he could speak. Even if they’re just curse words.

“Sh-shitty y-y/n…” He blinks a couple of times, trying to unblur his eyes with the tears that seem to stubbornly stay on his lash line.

“Th-think tha-at be ‘nough? Hah… y-yer cute.”

Blinking yourself, you stare as you shake your head. So he wants to act difficult today, huh?

“Oh baby, baby, baby. All you had to do was ask nicely instead of being mean to your friends. You know I would do anything to keep you happy, to please you.”

You reach to pet him, scratching his scalp as soothing as possible, watching as his eyes slowly come back to being sharp, the fuzz lingering leaving as his mouth twitches into a smile, a relaxed, serene smile as his once tense body slowly melts into the bed, the small shudders from the intensity of the situation for his body slowly disappearing as he lets out something close to a purr.

How cute, he thinks he’s off the hook.

“Since baby boy isn’t satisfied with what I gave him, guess I’ll just have to fuck the brattiness and attitude out of you, hm?”

You slowly lift your hand, standing up as you go back to the closet, leaving him with enough time to gather his thoughts back together and come to realize how you’ve tricked him, how you’re not even done yet, how he’s still gonna get punished.

But, he loves overstimulation? How is that punishing?

“Oh! Forgot to mention: you’ll be wearing this until I feel like taking it off, okay?”

And in his line of vision is his cock ring, the horrible toy that vibrates in teasing tempos and makes him pathetically cum, humiliating him. God he hates that fucking thing.

He growls lowly, as if he’d have a threat ready between his teeth, but then you flipped him over gently, the coolness of the sheets soothing his ass as you flick one of his nipples.

He whimpers, puffing his chest out more for you to keep playing with.

“What’s your color right now, Katsuki?”

“Green m-master.”

#notwhatiseem #✿; impurity #bnha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #mha smut #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #ლ; blasphemy

373 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

❅ ❅ ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

❅ ❅ ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out before she’s even cut the engine.

❅ ❅ ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

❅ ❅ ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

❅ ❅ ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

❅ ❅ ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #dabi #AAAAH this was supposed to be posted last night but i fell asleep editing it after getting distracted by SOMEONE #anyway enjoy!!#i hope u all like it!!#whew two down three to go #technically two to go because part four is nearly finished ehehe #tw pseudo-incest #OH THERES ALSO SOME FORESHADOWING IN HERE EUEUEUEUEUEEUEUE #MARI KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

711 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “A Chance.”

A continuation on the Dr. Krill lecture series about humans.

The room was large and echoing, voices raised up towards the ceiling, and despite their being enough room to fit more than three classrooms of the original size, there still wasn’t enough room to fit everyone, with some students standing or sitting off to the side. Cameras had been brought in to observe the lecture, and were being mounted as they watched, so other students from other universities could Audit the lectures.

A group of four students, two Vrul and two Tesraki sat together on the far right of the lecture hall. They had been forced to pair together for another one of their class projects and just ended up naturally gravitating towards what was familiar, sitting next to each other as they waited for the lecture to begin.

“Did you guys finish the assignment?”

“I did.” Of course the two Vrul had, that was to be expected.

The Tesraki looked down at their papers, work halfway finished because they had a tough time from telling what was myth from what was fact.

“Humans, dn not, in fact, cannibalize their young.”

“Where the hell did you hear that.”

“I had an older classmate tell me once, and I saw it in another news article.”

There was muttering, “Even we knew that.”

The other vrul shuffled their papers studiously, “Humans do not have hypnotic gazes that can paralyze their prey.” “Really, I felt for sure that that one was going to be real.”

The Tesraki’s ears drooped, “Well apparently, human stomach acid IS powerful enough to eat through metal.”

There was silence.

“No really, that can’t be true.”

The Tesraki nodded, “It isn’t a myth.” He sighed in frustration, “Everything I looked up about humans was true. Human bones are stronger than steel, the human liver can regenerate, humans can transplant organs from one human to another and it will work. Humans have a system of language that doesn't require the use of noise, it's called sign language by the way.”

One of the Vrul vibrated their antenna, “I am sorry to hear your search did not go well, perhaps if you had read more disreputable news articles it would have been better. Some of the major newspapers have the ability to contact better sources, which means their articles are most likely to be right.”

“Did you know the human jaw is powerful enough to bite off their own fingers, but humans don’t do it because number one, that hurts a lot, and number two, their brain doesn’t allow them to even consider it.”

There was a silence.

“Is that a fact or a myth.”

The other Tesraki sighed, “that is a fact.”

Just then the lights overhead blinked once and then twice. The students turned to look down at the room where Dr. Krill was making his way across the floor. Making his way in that unnatural and predatory way he had. His body moved with a fluid grace in comparison to the normal jerky movements of his species. His legs rolled one after the other in a wheel that kept him moving forward, never breaking. The shoulders on his body swayed slightly back and forth lending the power of his arms into the movement of his legs.

The way he moved his head around the room, seeming to focus on each one of them in turn rather than taking in the whole scene at once was…. Unnerving to say the least his helium sack sat mostly unused against his shoulders and upper back as he moved into the room. Not once since he had started here had anyone seen him use it.

He said it was too slow and made keeping up with humans difficult unless you were being dragged behind them.

It was…. Strange to watch…. How he never seemed to stop moving. Even when he spoke his four hands and his head moved to emphasize his points. When speaking to students coming up to see him, his body shifted in reaction to their words. His hands wide, then closed then open again, up and then down. His chin rose and fell in greeting to people and students he knew and to those he didn’t know so well.

It was a fascinating scene to watch, and one they were not entirely sure if they liked.

Dr Krill made a strange noise deep inside his throat, that over the speakers had the entire class turning to look at him. It was a strange sort of barking cough mixed with a hum. THey couldn’t have known that krill was imitating the way humans clear their throat when they want to speak.

“Students, I hope you all had a good week, and I hope you were all able to complete my first, and easiest assignment?”

There was a soft muttering around the room.

The doctor clapped both of his hands together, producing a sharp noise that brought attention back to himself, “Well, as I have said, today, as a special treat for staying….” He turned to look around the room before muttering, “And multiplying, apparently.” He frowned when none of the students seemed amused at his joke but continued, “I am going to be talking about the human fight flight or freeze response and the entire reaction of the sympathetic nervous system.”

Students withdrew their holopads to begin taking notes.

The cameras zoomed in on doctor Krill.

“We discussed last week how humans are technically considered predator animals, and they are as they eat and consume other animals daily. However, humans are not an apex predator as it isn’t often that they consume other predators. In fact, for the longest time humans were some of the weakest, and easiest to kill preditors for larger and more intimidating animals. In this way that lead to the development of the sympathetic nervous system.”

He turned around the room, and the two Vrul cringed back as his eyes seemed to fall on thim. His antenna were unusually still,

“The sympathetic and parasympathetic systems account for two sides of the same coin. The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for the workings of the body when the human is relaxed. It focuses primarily on digestion, relaxation slower breathing and even blood flow through the major organs including the eyes. It has other properties too of course, but when a human is relaxed their parasympathetic nervous system is the one generally in charge during those times.”

He turned to the projector, “Now assume you are an ancient human out on your natural habitat of the savanna -- without their adaptation the human’s natural habitat is warm and relatively dry with lots of open grassland and the occasional tree.” he flipped a picture on the projector and the class pulled back a bit in surprise at the picture that unfolded before them. It was a strange creature standing upright tall but remarkably hairy accept for on its face and hands, “This is a 3D rendered recreation of what early humans might have looked like based on skeletal remains found in their fossil record. The development of the human sympathetic nervous system likely started long before humans looked like this, but still the visual aid is one that I find compelling.” The class stared at the creatures thick face, heavy brow and sloping shoulders.

Humans today were much more graceful, though much less powerful than what this beast looked like. It was strange trying to determine which one was the superior. They supposed the current human, as its head size looked much bigger in comparison.

Krill pulled up a side by side comparison with his earlier diagram.

They recognized the modern human as he had been rendered in textbooks thousands of times since he had first been studied.

Very pale with his fine blond fur compared to the hulking shape next to him, with course brown fur that covered his entire body.

“Not the evolutionary changes that had to be made to get from this human.” He pointed at the hairy one, “To that one.” He motioned to the pale one, “The hips grew smaller, the spine took on a sharp S curve, the ratio of legs to arms changed dramatically, leaving the human with longer legs and comparatively short arms. The jaw and the face shortened, while the cranium expanded and hair receded across the body. The current human skeletal structure is finer and more delicate than its original counterpart, with a focus on precision in movement over power, which has become so important to their survival today.”

Dr Krill pointed to the picture of the old human, “This human tried its best to stay alive.” He pointed at the other human, “This human seems to be lacking in a lot of those same survival skills as he is constantly trying to get himself killed.” Krill sighed, “Modern humans are a little bit more complicated than their ancestors, but I digress.” Now imagine either on of these humans being faced with what might have been their natural predator on the savanna.

He flipped the image and the crowd gasped as a massive alien shape leaped up into a third projected spot. It was long and sinewy walking on four legs and a had a fur color like the tanned grassland. It’s eyes were face front, and on its massive paws there were huge hooked claws. Dr. Krill pressed a button to start the looping animation that allowed the creature to lope along with a sinuous grace that made the human lok clumsy and awkward in comparison, all three of the animations moving.

The creature opened its mouth and the entire class pulled back as huge razor sharp teeth glinted in the light, as it yawned, shook its head, and then continued walking.

“This is an African Lion, a female of the species weighing in at only 280 lbs. Now while some humans can weigh that much, a human of comparable fitness like our modern human weigh in at around only 210 lbs as an adult male. Now this female lion has a higher muscle to body mass index than the human, can run faster, jump higher, and bite harder. She has long and protruding K-9 teeth and retractable claws. The human has no chance….. or …. Does he.”

The class shifted slightly in their seats muttering

Krill waited for a long drawn out moment before, “No, statistically he is going to get his face eaten off, however, he does still have a slight chance.”

“The human will see the predator, and immediately upon seeing the body is going to flood the system with a hormone called adrenaline. Adrenaline is a natural high for humans that can result in increased strength, speed, and heightened visual perception. The Parasympathetic system is switched off for the sympathetic nervous system. The heart begins to beat faster as blood is routed into all the major muscle groups, those being primarily the legs. All activity in the internal organs shuts down as that blood flow is routed outwards. Blood can even be funneled away from the brain, despite that seeming a bit counter productive, causing tunnel vision in the eyes. Despite this, the brain begins to work faster allowing the human to see at more frames per second which seems, to a human, to slow down time.”

He turned to look at them, “Now a human has three opinions in a dangerous situation like this, either fight, flight, or freeze. All of these responses would have been adaptive in an environment like this with fight being, hopefully, the last response. Many predator animals are geared for a chase, so freezing will give a human a better chance of survival because if they run they will most certainly be attacked. ON the other hand sometimes this will not work, and being able to run as fast as possible is their only option. Backed against a wall and unable to run fast enough, a human has to fight. Some humans do not react in this order.”

He turned to look at the image, “The human body on adrenaline is capable of some wild and unbelievable things. The average human only uses around 40-60% of their body's natural strength. Systems in the brain will not allow more because if a human were able to use all the power of their body, they could rend muscle from bone. Well trained human athletes can use up to 70-90% of their natural strength, but during a time like this, the average human can be turned into a well trained athlete or more. In dire situations humans have been known to lift up to seven times their own body weight. During this time humans have been known to lift vehicles, wrestle wild animals, and throw large boulders. However, this does not come without a price, and the human will likely receive damage to their muscular structure.”

He turned to point at the pictures again.

“I heard a story about how a human choked to death a small mountain lion, and another man who fought off a shark. Humans are statistically unlikely to win a fight like this, but it isn’t impossible.”

He stalked around the room, “Humans do not just experience adrenaline when dealing with animals, but during accidents, public speaking events, and even in conflict with other humans. Expecting to be hurt, the human body has the ability to completely shut off its pain perception.”

There was a stunned silence all around him, and then an uproar.

Dr. krill seemed almost smug as he watched them react like that, and raised a hand for silence.

They quieted down, “Yes, you heard me, the human brain has the ability to completely ignore pain, until the danger is dealt with. The first surgery I ever did, on this human right here is a good demonstration…. If you do not want to see graphic images turn your head away now.”

Even if they had wanted too it was impossible to tear their eyes away as the image popped up on screen.

The class gasped.

There was a collective sound of disgust.

“That screwdriver had gone in through the front of his eye, broke through the back of the ocular socket and slid into one of the cortical folds of the brain. He WALKED into my surgery and conversed with me like a logical and reasoning person. He did not report any physical discomfort or pain, he did not scream or show any other signs of distress. His brain had completely shut off all response to the pain.”

He turned to walk around the circle.

“You see most of the time pain is a good thing, it allows you to know when something is wrong, but there are other times, dire situations like this where the ability to feel pain will only hinder the subject. If this human had been able to feel pain it is likely his thrashing and screaming would have caused more cortical damage than it already would have. I heard a story of a woman who fell off a cliff and broke both of her legs horribly, while she was still in pain, she managed to crawl her way off a mountain, and as soon as other humans found her she passed out as the pain got worse. Another human, who had been rock climbing, ended up with his arm trapped under a boulder and with no escape. He was there for days, but, in the end, he managed to cut off his own arm in order to escape.”

More horrified gasping from the crowd as they pulled away in shock and terror.

“These are just some of the most impressive stories. Not all humans will react like this. The vast majority of humans will freeze when they should fight, or run when they should freeze. Some will simply give up and curl into a ball, but there are other humans, like this, who under adrenaline can run like olympic sprinters, lift seven times their own size and fight better than the animals attacking them. The capabilities and the possibilities of a human under the influence of adrenaline are remarkable.”

His antenna vibrated just a little in amusement, “As you can imagine, humans do not experience this much these days, but psychological studies have reported that it is actually healthy for humans to experience the fight or flight response as it helps the brain retain that ability. For something to continue working you need to use it. Scientists say that exposing a human to a sympathetic response in a controlled environment is good for their mental health.” He sighed, “Of course this leads humans to watching horror themed movies, skydiving, and recreational fighting. Otherwise humans put themselves into controlled danger in order to feel what their ancestors felt a long time ago when they were being chased by large raging land predators, but when your species developed in an environment that hostile, it is to be expected.”

The group of four stared at krill, and by extension the animation of the real living human behind him. They tried to imagine the slim two legged figure winning a fight against the massive clawed beast, but were having trouble. Its teeth, which had once seemed so sharp, now were dull and almost useless. The nails on its hands, once considered claws were tiny, flimsy and pathetic, but….. It seemed strange, there was still something in the way it moved that suggested possibilities.

Humans were survivors where many other species were not.

Humans may not have had a very high chance.

But at least they had a chance.

#humans are space orcs #humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

693 notes · View notes

katsumiiii · 3 years

Text

I Love To Hate You.

Part One: My Hatred Runs Deep....

maki zenin x fem! black reader

—> fluff + angst series....

Description: In this story reader has a burning hatred towards maki zenin, she find’s her unbearable, despising her very presence. On the contrary, maki has an unexplained fascination towards the girl, causing her to bother reader whenever possible. Soon, this abhorrence blooms into a passionate love unable to be contained.

Warnings: Slight gore, cursing, mild angst, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 1K

You hated Maki. No, that word was much too generous to describe your feelings for the girl. You despised Maki. You loathed how she acted as if she knew everything, smirking whenever you seemed to be confused about what she referred to as a “simple concept.” when in reality, she was just unbelievably intelligent when it came to knowledge about cursed energy.

You detested how she went out of her way to purposely get under your skin, swiftly throwing around seemingly light hearted insults, her grin — which always seemed to be present when you were around — growing once glancing at your furrowed eyebrows and your plush lips scrunched upwards into an unpleasant scowl.

Yes, your hatred for the girl ran deep. Deep along side the blood which flowed inside your veins, giving your very being life. And although it was well known that you hated, ah no despised the girl, she simply could not get enough of you. She loved your little witty comebacks, words laced with fire shooting from those soft lips of yours, like darts slicing through the cool air.

She adored your pouts, and the crinkle of skin which laid between your eyebrows as you harshly glared downwards at her upturned lips, eyebrows narrowing at the smirk adoring her pale face. She found it amusing, the reactions you made whenever she was present, it was entertaining to her, and not only her but others as well. Because of that, she made sure to annoy you as much as possible, and in this case that time was now.

“Maki please shut the absolute fuck up.” you grumbled, legs stretching further and further, trying to get yourself away from the infuriating woman.

Maki chucked at your vexed expression, your arched eyebrows furrowing just how she adored them to, lips down turned into a that delicious pout that captivated her each time it appeared. “Why should I? You seem to be enjoying my presence.”

“Ha ha, funny.” you replied, pace quickening as your annoyance increased.

“I know, glad you agree.”

From afar— if one looked hard enough — two teenagers peaked from behind their respective oak trees, both their heads were tilted as they gazed curiously at the pair swiftly walking a few feet ahead of them, watching their interaction closely.

“Hey Nobara.” a pink haired male called out rather loudly, causing his partner in crime to send him a deadly glare in return.

“Hush Itadori! We don’t want them to hear us! Y/N is scary when she’s mad.” the girl shuttered, her eyes closing as she imagined you standing before her, knife in hand, eyes gleaming with blood lust.

“Why do you think Y/N hates Maki so much?” the boy asked, ignoring Nobara’s request and continuing to speak at the same volume as before.

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP ASSHOLE, DO YOU WANT US TO GET CAUGHT?”

“WELL YOU’RE NOT HELPING EITHER WITH YOUR SCREAMING!!”

“God, what are you idiots doing this time?” the sudden appearance of this new voice made the two squeal in surprise, eyes bulging comically out of their sockets, hands flinging forward to clasp the others. Megumi looked at the pair in exasperation, hands shoved deep into his navy blue pants pockets as he cautiously raised an eyebrow, almost frightened to learn what the duo’s motives were.

“Oh thank god it’s only you, you scared the crap outta us!” Itadori exhaled, gingerly letting go of Nobara’s hands which were intertwined with his own.

“DON’T SCARE US LIKE THAT ASSHOLE!!” Nobara howled, the image of you with a bloody kitchen knife still present in her mind.

“Alright geez, stop screaming.” Megumi rolled his eyes in false irritation, leaning his right shoulder against the same oak tree Itadori was supposed to be hiding behind. “You didn’t answer my question, what are you idiots doing?”

“Nothing!”

“Spying on Y/N and Maki!” the duo replied simultaneously, snapping their heads to peer at one another when their answers didn’t correspond. Megumi shook his head in amusement, softly snickering under his breath at their idiocy.

“Spying on Y/N and Maki!”

“Nothing!” their answers now switching, causing them to once again turn their heads to face each other, slightly glaring when they once again failed to answer Megumi’s awfully simple question.

“So you’re spying on Y/N and Maki...got it.”

“Hey Megumi, you’ve been here a while. Do you know why Y/N seems to hate Maki so much?” Itadori questioned. Nobara nodded her head beside him in agreement while slightly leaning forward, for she wanted to know the answer as well.

Megumi shrugged in response, his eyes fluttering shut as he kicked a lone rock which laid in front of him. “I honestly don’t know much. For as long as I’ve known them all they’ve ever done is argue. If you wanna know, you’d probably have to ask Y/N herself.” he rested his head against the rough wood of the oak tree, eyes opening to peer upwards at the setting sun.

“Hm no way am I asking her, she’s way too damn scary.” Nobara glowered, swinging her foot back and forth to make harsh contact with the tree in front of her, pieces of dead wood dropping to the ground as a result.

“You know what I think?” Itadori slumped against a bush directly behind him, resting his arms on each knee below him. His pink locks ruffled as the wind tussled each individual strand, some ending up brushing against his forehead. “I think Y/N actually likes Maki, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Pfft, yeah right!” Nobara cackled, brown hair bouncing as slight quivers erupted from the aftermath of her laughter, her eyes crinkling shut.

“Hey! I’m serious!”

“Yeah and so am I! No way in hell she secretly likes her. What is this, a romance story?”

“Shhh, before they hear us!!” the pair continued to bicker, words becoming louder and louder with every passing second. Megumi quickly darted his eyes away from the dulled sunlight, his own midnight blue irises settling on to Maki’s light green ones. Their eyes only met for a moment, but in that brief split of a second he noticed the inexplicable mischievousness present within her gaze, her cunning aura intensifying before eventually dissipating, eyes now resting on your body several steps in front of her.

Megumi sighed for what seemed to be the thousandth time in a span of 4 minutes, kicking his foot against the grainy surface behind him. “Yeah it’s a little too late for that.”

—> taglist: @mitsumya @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @racistareversa @xetou @katsumox @blackweebtrash @koishiguro @yuujisbby @mads-fairy @asaincy @namjoonswifeyy @angiebug101 @amethyst09 @sisifromthed @lilsparkyswife @morosis-haze @solar3lunar @lightofcordonia

—> notes: let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist, also let me know if I forgot you from the taglist !! — yes ik not a lot of maki and reader, but imma get thea I promise —

#maki zenin x reader #maki zenin x poc reader #maki zenin x black reader #maki x reader #maki x black reader #maki x poc reader #jjk x reader #jjk x poc reader #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x poc reader

132 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years

Text

There's always a calm before the storm

Summary:

Mobius is extremely frustrated because they have to wait to go catch the Variant in 2050 Alabama. Loki decides that this time it's his turn to take care of Mobius.

I'm still exploring their relationship as I await the next episode. Think of it as a little interlude before they leave for Alabama.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32095750

1646 words - rating G

Mobius was frustrated.

For whatever reason, logistical, administrative, they would not be able to leave to catch the variant in Alabama for another twenty-four hours. He didn't even listen to Revonna's explanation until the end and left her office, furious.

Loki, sitting in the corner of Mobius' open desk, was watching him with amusement.

He had noticed that Mobius was generally very controlled in his emotions, but there were two emotions that made him act unpredictably.

Joy and anger.

Loki blushed as he remembered how he had been on the receiving end of these unpredictable reactions, whether it was when he had pissed Mobius off in the elevator or just now when Mobius had been happy to finally have a solution thanks to Loki.

Unconsciously Loki brought his hand to his lips, as he wondered if he would be able to elicit a similar reaction now that Mobius was frustrated again.

A little embarrassed at where his thoughts were leading him when it was not time for jokes, Loki coughed discreetly.

"Time Variance, Time Keepers, Sacred fucking Timeline... for fuck's sake, they're the masters of time, and we have to wait to catch the fucking Variant! "Mobius, pissed off, kicked his desk, causing his precious jet ski magazine to fall to the floor without him noticing.

He continued to pace around the office, railing a thousand times against all those who he thought were preventing him from doing his job.

Loki stood up, picked up the magazine and looked at Mobius fondly.

There was something strangely charming about the man, though Loki couldn't quite figure out what it was. But there was no denying that something about Mobius drew Loki to him like a moth to a flame.

Loki was both curious and cautious. Something compelled him to expose himself to Mobius more than he had with anyone else.However, while the feeling was incredible, Loki also knew that rarely had anything good happened when he had allowed himself to trust.

Either way, this wasn't the time, and unless Loki tried to hit Mobius with the magazine like he had done with Miss Minutes, Mobius wasn't going to stop circling until they got the approval they needed.

Loki thought that maybe this time he was the one who could do something for Mobius.

He called him several times, but Mobius was so consumed with anger that he did not hear Loki.

So he tried another way, "Mo!"

Mobius stopped immediately, only the slight flush on the tops of his ears betraying his embarrassment.

"Mo? Loki, I'll have you know that my name is Mobius! Not Mo, Mobi, Bibi or any other such idea that comes to mind. Okay?"

Loki smiled with indulgence before replying, "That had the merit of getting your attention at least."

Mobius grumbled before snapping at Loki, "What is it that deserves my attention?"

Loki turned to him, spreading his arms in the manner of Loki when he was acting out.

"Lokiii...." sighed Mobius, "I don't have the time or the heart for this."

It was Loki's turn to be annoyed, but he didn't show it, after all the short time he'd been there, he had surely frustrated Mobius more than his share.

"Mobius, please sit down." said Loki softly as he turned Mobius' desk chair towards him.

Mobius let out a sigh of annoyance, but sat down nonetheless.

Good boy, Loki thought as he stood behind him. Then he asked Mobius, "Do you mind if I touch you?"

Mobius put his head back to look at Loki and said with a sigh, "Lokiii we said we would continue this later."

Loki gave him a small flick on the forehead, before replying with a slightly annoyed tone and eyes raised to the sky, " You idiot, I just want to help you relax.I'm probably not going to try anything while it's an open desk, even if there's no one else there but us."Then handing him the magazine, he added, "Here, flip through your magazine and admire your famous Jetskis."

Then handing him the magazine, he added, "Here, flip through your magazine and admire your famous Jetskis."

Mobius bowed his head and with a sigh gave his consent.

Loki began to massage his shoulders, looking for any strain to relieve.

Mobius grunted in response, "Hmmm Loki, where did a god learn to massage like that? I would have thought you were more of a massage receiver than a massage giver."

"Thank you!I thought you were one of the few who didn't have preconceived ideas about me, after all I understand very well, my exceptional and divine personality is so vast that it's hard to go around it in a human lifetime and-"

"Lokiii..." sighed Mobius

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Loki quivered slightly as he remembered the last time Mobius had said that to him and the way he had shut Loki up. He replied in a playful tone, "I'd tell you to shut me up, but then again this is a public place."

Loki didn't need to see Mobius' face to know that he was rolling his eyes. He continued his massage, while explaining, "To answer your question, let's just say that DB Cooper wasn't the only bet I lost with Thor and I won't go into further explanation."

Mobius chuckled before replying, "In any case, I am delighted to be the lucky beneficiary of your talents, no matter how you acquired them."

Loki simply smiled and continued his ministrations, as Mobius flipped through his magazine while groaning his appreciation every time the god loosened a sensitive muscle.

"Mobius..." he murmured softly.

"Hmmm..."

"I'd like to do something more for you, but it requires that you trust me." Loki's tone had become uncertain.

"Well I let you take me to Pompeii and you didn't stab me in the back, so I guess that means I trust you right?"

A bit of a twisted way of reasoning Loki thought, but it would be enough for what he wanted to do.

"Second, do you trust me enough to take off my necklace for a few moments so I can use my magic?" He knew Mobius' answer would be slower in coming, after all, two kisses exchanged didn't mean unlimited trust.

Mobius surprised him once again though, he tilted his head back and looked at Loki with a smile, reaching into his pocket to activate the command that opened the inhibitor collar. Loki's throat tightened at this display of trust.

He pulled himself together and said, "Okay, then I want you to think of your favorite jetski model and close your eyes."

Mobius chuckled again, but complied.

Loki placed his fingers on the man's temples, without applying pressure. He concentrated and a faint green flash passed between his fingers and Mobius' skin.

With his eyes closed because he was concentrating, Loki did not see Mobius' expressions, but he heard his exclamations of glee and laughter.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then Loki slowly opened his eyes and gradually took his hands off Mobius' head. The man slowly came back to reality. He leaned his head back again and murmured a thank you, while squeezing one of Loki's hands that had lingered on his shoulder.

"So was it as good as you thought it would be?" asked Loki.

"Better even. I really felt like I was on a jet ski, out on the ocean, the wind whipping by, the spray, everything." He touched his cheek, "I still feel like I can feel all of that even though I know it wasn't real. Thank you again."

Loki awkwardly replied, "I know it's probably not as good as the real thing, but I hope it took your mind off it a bit."

"Don't underestimate what you did Loki, it was exactly what I needed."

"Good for you then," Loki muttered as he picked up the collar to put it back on.

Mobius' hand stopped him.

"Wait, don't put it back on just yet. Are you able to create an illusion where we both would be, if I project to you what I want?"

Loki simply opened his arms and said, "Hey you forget who I am."

"Idiot."

Loki replied, "Alright, it's going to be just like before, just gather what you want us to see in your mind. Are you ready?"

"Yes." replied Mobius firmly.

Loki repeated the same gestures as before and closed his eyes.

Anyone who entered at that moment would have seen the scene of one man sitting at his desk while another stood behind him with his hands on his temples. Both men sporting bright smiles.

A few minutes later, they opened their eyes at the same time and Loki moved back a little.

Mobius caught his hand before he could pull it away.

"Are you okay?"

Loki nodded but said nothing. He gently withdrew his hand and put his collar back on. Seeing that he was reluctant to speak, Mobius turned fully toward him and pulled him by the sleeve until he was standing between Mobius' knees.

Looking at him from below, he asked gently, "Loki, speak to me."

Loki replied just as softly, "Is this the kind of thing you like, the kind of thing you'd like to do...with me?"

"We could start with that after this whole thing is over, what do you say? Ah unless there's a rule that says gods don't date?" asked Mobius, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms, a mischievous smile on his face, Loki said with his trademark emphasis, "Hey, I'm Loki, the god of mischief, since when do I follow rules?

Quickly checking behind his shoulder that no one was there, Mobius pulled Loki's head to his own with a gentle tug on his tie and proceeded to wipe the arrogant smile from Loki's lips in the only way he knew to be effective.

________

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Thanks for all the support, this fandom is incredibly motivating. Love you all!🥰

Not beta'd

#loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #moki #wowki #developing relationship #lokius fics

41 notes · View notes

purplefangirl42 · 2 years

Text

Fazed (Part 9)

Series Summary: With Anakin out of commission and Obi-Wan sent elsewhere, the 501st needs a new General. Lena Orim has stepped up to take Anakin's place and has rattled the 501st's usually stoic Captain Rex. His feelings are not one-sided, which may lead to some questionable decisions.

Pairing: Captain Rex/Jedi! OC (Lena Orim)

Parts: Series Masterlist ~ PREVIOUS ~ NEXT ~

Part 9 Summary: Rex and Lena have a new mission.

Warnings/Tags: More pining

A/N: The conversation between Lena and Ahsoka is not her condoning anything, simply being cautious with her reaction. Just want to clarify that.

This chapter is now edited to a new and improved version!

The 501st and 394th worked together for nearly a month, taking parts of the planet back from separatist control one battle at a time. Once Keebo’s arm had healed, she rejoined the fight. Lena was glad to have her padawan back at her side. The two groups worked together well, with four Jedi and two capable clone leaders leading them to victory in nearly every battle.

Off the battlefield, Lena noticed something seemed off with the Captain of the 501st. Rex seemed to avoid her at every opportunity. She wondered what she had done to make him wary of her. Every time she got anywhere near him, all she could sense was guilt and heightened anxiety. Nothing like the focused and determined man he was on the battlefield. The change in his behavior bothered her more than it probably should.

While sitting in the tent she shared with Keebo and Ahsoka, Lena decided to voice her concerns to the younger women. Perhaps they would have insight into the situation that had escaped her notice, especially Ahsoka, as she knew Rex much better than she did.

“Have either of you noticed something wrong with Rex?”

Ahsoka looked up from her datapad, a conflicted look crossing her features before it disappeared.

“Not really. Why?”

Lena narrowed her eyes at the young togruta. She could tell that Ahsoka knew something was up and wasn’t planning on sharing it with her. There was some secret she was keeping.

“I’ve sensed unusual amounts of anxiety from him lately. I was just concerned that something was bothering him.”

Lena saw a slight smirk of amusement cross Keebo's face. Unlike Ahsoka, she wasn’t trying to keep her thoughts hidden. The mischievous look in her eyes told Lena that she also had noticed something was going on with Rex and was very much enjoying her secret intel.

“Keebo? Do you know something?” Lena asked.

Ahsoka's eyes frantically moved to look at Keebo, widening to convey some secret message. Keebo didn't seem to understand her pointed look or just chose to ignore it.

“I think he’s anxious about a woman,” she said. “He’s dealing with being attracted to someone and doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

Ahsoka groaned quietly and shook her head. Lena felt more confused than before. Rex didn't seem like the type to be fazed by a relationship. Also, Ahsoka's reactions concerned her. She seemed upset that Keebo had said what she did.

“Ahsoka, is that true?”

Ahsoka bit her lip nervously and refused to look Lena in the eye. Her aversion raised Lena’s concern. Could it be something more serious than she had originally thought?

“Ahsoka. Answer me truthfully. Are you involved with Captain Rex?” Lena asked.

Keebo snorted in laughter as Ahsoka’s eyes widened in shock. The young woman shook her head frantically and held up her hands defensively.

“What?! No!”

Lena was surprised by her outburst. She reached out and placed her hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder to calm her.

"I wouldn't have been upset if you had said yes, Ahsoka. My only concern would have been if the two of you were hiding it from Anakin. That could have been the source of Rex's anxiety, and we need him to be focused on the battlefield. Honesty between a master and padawan is essential for the relationship to function well. He is responsible for you, and something as serious as this would require a conversation."

Ahsoka relaxed slightly and opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of Keebo chuckling where she sat. Lena turned her head to look at her padawan with a raised eyebrow. She couldn’t see what was so amusing about this situation.

"If honesty is so important, then, by all means, I should be honest with you, master," Keebo said.

“Keebo, don’t. It’s not your place to share that information. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her himself,” Ahsoka interjected, pointing an accusing finger at the Twi’lek.

“Tell me what?” Lena asked. “If I did something that concerns Rex, I need to know so I can address the problem with him directly.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lena’s commlink beeping. Lena answered it, hearing Anakin’s voice on the other end.

“I need the three of you in the briefing tent.”

“We’ll be right there,” Lena said before releasing the button. She pointed at both Ahsoka and Keebo, a determined look on her face. “This conversation is not over until I get an answer out of one of you.”

The three of them made their way towards the briefing tent. Lena could hear the two young women whispering to each other as they walked behind her, no doubt talking about their previous conversation. She wasn’t any more in the know about the situation with Rex than she was before she brought it up.

Pushing the issue to the back of her mind, Lena entered the tent, lifting the flap for the two padawans to follow her in. Glancing across the holo-table, Lena saw a familiar figure standing beside Anakin.

“Obi-Wan? What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.

Both men looked up at her question. Anakin looked awkward as he glanced between Lena and his former master. Obi-Wan gave her a small smile in greeting, a peace offering, she guessed.

"Hello, Lena. Glad to see you in good health. I heard you took a page from Anakin's book and got yourself blown up."

Anakin rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan’s comment.

“For your information, she got blown up in the process of saving Rex and Ahsoka from an attack from Ventress,” he pointed out.

"Ah, I guess that’s a bit more understandable," Obi-Wan remarked, keeping his focus on Lena. "I'm afraid that I don't come with good news. Lena, you have a new assignment."

Lena raised her eyebrows questioningly. “And what is that?” she asked.

“We have received some intelligence about the location of a Separatist leader, and we need someone to go undercover and capture him. Someone who is not well known and can blend in well.”

“So neither of you,” Ahsoka said jokingly.

“Hey! I can blend in!” Anakin said defensively.

Lena laughed softly at his offended tone. “No offense Anakin, but I think any Seppie would see you coming a star system away.”

Anakin made a 'hmft' noise before giving Obi-Wan a wave to continue.

“You won’t be going alone. You will need a qualified partner that also won’t raise any suspicions and would work with a plausible cover story,” Obi-Wan continued.

“So not me or Blaze,” Keebo interjected. “Although, I could come up with a plausible cover story if I needed to.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I think either Cody or Rex would be the best option. They would be able to pass as a partner for Lena and handle themselves if things got ugly.”

Lena glanced over to where Rex was standing between Anakin and Ahsoka. He was paying strict attention to the briefing but pointedly not looking at her. Maybe this would be her opportunity to get some answers.

“I’ll take Rex,” Lena said.

That seemed to get his attention. For the first time in weeks, Rex looked directly at her. Lena could feel the anxiety rolling off of him again. Hopefully, he wouldn't be like that the entire mission.

“Very well. The two of you can return to the Resolute, and Admiral Yularen will give you the information you need," Obi-Wan said, nodding in approval.

Rex couldn't believe his ears when he heard Lena choose him for her mission partner. When Kenobi had suggested himself or Cody as candidates, his heart had been pounding, as if it was shouting at Lena to choose him. He would be alone with her in an unofficial setting where they weren't themselves. This both excited him and terrified him.

When they returned to the Resolute, Admiral Yularen briefed them on the details of the mission. They were going to some outer rim planet run by gambling to capture a Seppie leader while he was there making a deal for Count Dooku. At the mention of Dooku's name, he saw Lena tense up, but Yularen assured her that Dooku himself would not be there, and she seemed to relax.

First, they needed to pose as people who would typically be seen on the planet. That meant they needed to not look like a Jedi knight and Clone captain. For Rex, that meant stripping off his protective armor and replacing it with black pants and a tight shirt in whatever color he felt fit him best. An oversized black jacket completed his look, making him feel bulky. Looking in the mirror, Rex scowled at his reflection. He looked like a tough low-life from the lower levels of Coruscant. He clipped a holster to each thigh and secured his blasters, turning away from his reflection to leave the room with the bag of spare clothes and a variety of other things they would need.

When he exited into the hallway, he came face to face with Lena. His eyes scanned her outfit, and he suddenly felt very flushed. Lena had traded her usual Jedi garb for something a little less modest. A skimpy blue top with lacey bits that showed more skin than it covered was paired with tight black pants and gray boots that went up past her knees. Her long hair was out of its usual braid, and most of it flowed freely behind her with a loose bun on the back of her head holding some of it out of her face.

Lena spread her arms out to showcase her outfit. “Well? What do you think?”

Rex clenched his jaw to keep it from hanging open as he looked at her. It would probably be best if he kept his honest opinion to himself.

“You look different, so I guess that’s good,” he offered.

Lena gave his outfit a once over before nodding her head in approval. "You look very different as well, Captain."

Rex was sure he saw a gleam of something in her eyes as she said that, but he dismissed it. The two of them grabbed their bags and made their way to the hangar bay. Anakin had left the Twilight for them to use, something Rex was not overly thrilled about. He didn't understand why his General kept the piece of junk, but it would work for their mission, so he didn't really have anything to complain about. At least he would be flying and not Skywalker.

Once he and Lena had boarded the ship and were ready to go, the hangar crew started the process for them to leave. The Twilight left the hangar of the Resolute and Rex punched in the coordinates Yularen had given him. Then, the ship jumped into hyperspace, leaving everyone else behind and leaving Rex and Lena together on their way to their mission.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Please reblog, like, and comment! If you would like to be added to the taglist, go here.

Taglist: @jonesandjoanna

#captain rex #captain rex x jedi oc #captain rex x oc #fanfiction #star wars: the clone wars #star wars #OC:Lena Orim

6 notes · View notes

eddiemxnsons · 4 years

Text

INTRÉPIDE — Nate Fick

Requested by: @bbysugarpink

hello, i would like to request something for nate from generation kill :) with the fluff prompts: “is there a reason you’re blushing like that” and “i’m not a damsel in distress. i’m a damsel doing damage” thank u so much! 🤍

To whatever sexist douchebag termed damsels — women — as always being in constant, unwarranted distress, Y/N Y/L/N could run laps around them with her intellect, physical build, and sharp tongue. She was a living illustration of an army disciplinary booklet, the words alive in calculated steps she’d approach a soldier with.

The men of the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion of the Marine Corps vexed egos could attest to the goldenly shrewd behavior of their lieutenant. She was a great shot with her rifle, but her words walloped anyone with a more profound wound than any bullet could. Superiors would tease that if science could decipher the wonderstruck complexes of her mind and bottle it, they’d give it to every trooper to fortify some manhood in them that vanished with the diaphanous sand of the desert each dawn.

With the exception of First Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick.

The duo could forge a bickering storm within seconds of a misstep in strategy, a blazing crimson error of position that had a target pinned to their asses. The remainder of their platoon would settle in the beaten leather of their humvee’s, ears perked to open windows to listen to the rather amusing strings of hisses. They’d only interject if the woman was teetering on ripping the other lieutenant a new one, and it wasn’t for the paralyzed ego of their male superior, but for the sound discipline that should be happening.

Yet, as the cruel sun beat down on one afternoon, it's one malevolent eye unblinking, the sky it's co-conspirator with not even a wisp of cloud to obscure the unrelenting rays, there was no sound discipline to be enforced. Therefore, the feverish dispute erupting with a febrile existence as hot as the weather itself, was either eavesdropped by weary troopers or entirely disregarded by those who forced slumber.

Y/N stood in front of a glowering Nate Fick in a recognizable stance, arms folded sturdily across her chest and her jacket and pants littered with palpable burns from a imprudent stunt in the early morning. He was now ripping her a new one before a few other fellow lieutenants for the chaotic strategy that had her eluding a lethal shootout by her teeth.

“You were sent on a mission to collect intel, not engage in a fucking dogfight with Iraqi soldiers, Lieutenant Y/L/N. Lately, all you’ve been leaving is a trail of collateral damage wherever you go and I have to clean it up before any higher-up flames your ass,” Nate essentially snarled in her face, his gaze fervid with fluttering chaos and madness, whetting the edge of his cerulean eyes.

“If you’re going to chastise me for doing my job, I think you should be looking at yourself and everyone else in this damn platoon! We were ambushed and I merely retaliated to save the asses of my men like any lieutenant would do. I got the fucking intel for you and spared you from writing a few condolence letters,” she sneered in retort, beckoning an offending serpent of anger into their conversation with a spark of anger igniting in her chest, “And I would appreciate if you allowed me to do what I need to do to save my men—”

“And what if I had to write one for you?!” He interjected furiously, the rustle of the adjacent map indicating that his miffed outburst startled a few of the others. Their exasperation stood equal now, black marks on their consciousnesses. When it came to her — this brazen, shrewd female lieutenant — the stagnant, usually composed first lieutenant was easy to set off, almost like flicking the top off a grenade. Scrap the usually when it came to the woman before him now.

Y/N merely scoffed, a few sputters of laughter hissing from the rifts of her lips, “Besides a loss of a lieutenant, what is it to you if something happened out there? You could give less than two fucks about me, Fick.” She peered at him with frustration radiating, aghast that he would reprimand her recklessness.

Nearly everyday did he let Death almost beat the shit out of him, and it was always her that had to save his ass and dispel its clasp. The one day she didn’t duck for cover, demand them to fallback, had a momentary lapse of judgement was the day she was endlessly ridiculed. Her hand twitched at her side as she anticipated a reaction — an excuse — from the crimson-cheeked man, an identical grimace scattering out from beneath both of their helmets.

She sobered her tongue to her cheek for the sake of hearing this argument through and through, savor in levity the first thing the blonde could spare from his humiliated ass,

“Maybe if you pulled your head out your ass, you’d realize that there are some people in this platoon that give a shit about whether or not you live or die.”

“Like who?” she beckoned in challenge, true to her haughty dispotion, and her chest mere inches from seething against his own now.

She could taste the poignancy of his despair that fragilized in his light blues, the acidity of his wrath, and the blazing of his anguish, yet shook her head despite it all gradually soaking into her chest, “Like who, Lieutenant Fick?”

He was a man that knew no fear until he met this woman. He had met every dread of his in her heedless behavior. Certainly, she tends to sprint into danger on more instances than he could count, but managed to extinguish every flame of danger that lurked as a menace to her each damn time. Numerous wondered, even him in some moments, where Y/N’s tenacity emanated from, yet it could never really be pinpointed. Yet, that was just another aspect of the cumbersome girl he had spent his army career attempting to unravel.

And Nate Fick is a gritty man. He has strived for a while to not get his feelings for her entangled in the requisite of war. Love doesn’t belong in a war, where there’s a constant dance with Satan that would desecrate anything as vulnerable as love. Yet, there it was, keen as ever despite the uncertainty of the next few minutes. He loved her like there wasn’t a war occurring.

“Like me,” he admitted with his mouth abandoning all moisture for an arid wasteland of desert like his surroundings.

His whole mewl of a rant moments prior had fucked things up for sure. Even as he was blustering and calling into question her competence, he was aware how he was stirring an unspoken pot of exasperation between them. But she had scared him that morning. And Nate Fick thought himself a fool whenever he fussed in fright over something — someone. But, as he flanked position in the aforementioned dogfight with his own men, his peripheral — keen as always — had caught her dropping to the ground after a deluge of bullets mangled the metal of the humvee she had tucked herself behind. He had been certain that he had just bystanded her death and nearly got himself shot in the abyss of numbness that bittered his nerves.

“Well, of course, because who else would you bitch to about every damn problem you have?” she eclipsed his concern and amused the response, “Anyone else would simply kiss your ass and agree with your complaints — you’d never get your desired response and then the cycle repeats itself. I may as well be your therapist!”

“Would you just shut up?!” Nate let her have it, tearing into her steadfast role of a bitter disputer, eyes temporarily locking with her own.

Any other soldier at the brunt of his outburst would flinch, unravel in whatever mock confidence they tossed between them at the start of the quarrel. She was a pistol of a woman, and there is everything right with that as could be for regard to her character. You fired at her, you could be damn certain you’d get fired at in return.

“Are you issuing an order to me, lieutenant?” She ventured a step between their already existing close proximity, “Someone of your own rank that you’re belittling on account of your questioning of my sanity? Well, let me deal you back a taste of your own medicine — I question you on your clear defiency to keep a cool head whenever something, involving me, occurs and you lose your temper! The line between your professional life and whatever personal thing you have festering in your mind is blurring, lieutenant. And I question if you can execute your rank’s duties appropriately...”

“You make it rather difficult to when you stick your ass in every dangerous situation that comes wandering your way,” he ruefully sighed, abating his zealous tone and plucking her elbow to shift them into a quieter corner away from probing eyes. And, much to his surprise, she permitted the abrupt veering off and the linger of his hand on the bend of her elbow.

“And why is it so difficult?” she aligned her tone with his own, still a searing and acrimonious murmur in the shaded corner.

Nate’s frustration tensed with a clench of his jaw, eyes drowning with something deviating between anger and lust — the latter glimmer being one she regarded before he was even genuinely aware it had erupted to the surface. And her heart fluttered.

“You know why,” he indifferently stated, words slicing rather than tumbling through the dry air.

A hollow feeling bloomed at the center of her chest almost immediately as the words registered quicker than she would’ve preferred.

“Nate,” there was no agitation in her voice as if her heart beat so steadily now, the pistol-shot flare diminishing beneath a vulnerable facade. Certainly, she knew. She’d be daft to beat around the bush of his implications — the connotations of their intimate, clandestine relationship. “If the others — if our superiors — found out...”

“It’s been a year and they’re none the wiser,” Nate tread a few fingers through her messy, disheveled hair, her breathing almost instantaneously steadying with the slight yanks at the stray tufts of her ponytail brushing her neck. They rebounded to a silence with balanced inhales of arid desert air for a few moments, the din of adjacent soldiers in their makeshift tents curving around the flaps of the one they concealed behind. She glimpsed briefly through the heavy brush of her lashes, pressing a whisper of a kiss on his lips, lingering there with the ardor igniting her veins and no doubt his, defusing the ticking bomb of fury from minutes prior.

“Now, is there a reason why you’re blushing so profusely like that?” she mused with a curl of smirk in their departure from the kiss, her fingertips skimming the camoed cloth of the rear of his helmet while amused eyes adored the earnest crimson of his cheeks.

Nate chuckled with an eye roll spared for her radiating levity, his spur of mirth hindered by the dispute that anchored in the abyss of his stomach, “You could have died, you know.” He is vulnerable now, novel territory for Nate Fick to venture into, and he's found himself astray in the shallow waters of a defenseless position.

“You would’ve done the same,” she uttered through a throat she could’ve sworn was temporarily haboring jagged rock shards, “Besides, we both know that I’m not a damsel in distress needing you to swoop in as if you always need to do something to save me. I’m a damsel doing damage a majority of the time ‘round here.”

“Unfortunately,” Nate chuckled wryly, “And you leave it all to me to clean up.”

“It’s rather entertaining to watch — for everyone.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

#hbo war #hbowar #generation kill #hbo war imagine

47 notes · View notes

avadescent · 4 years

Text

Rivetra-Parent AU but modern is still lodged in my brain, so here’s Eren attempting to win a Science Fair.

Crossposted on AO3 w/ references

Eren bursts in through the front door like a high-powered locomotive on a one-way rail track, and as he kicks his shoes off expertly before striding into the meticulously polished threshold, Levi feels no need to act like an accommodating parent today and decides to leave Petra in charge of all the damage control.

She catches him by the sleeve before he can slither away from the kitchen however, and promptly threatens to make him sleep on the couch should he leave her to deal with their rambunctious thirteen year-old alone. Cleaning up is his specialty, after all.

Really, Levi thinks as he seats himself once more, Wives just have too much power sometimes.

“Eren!” Petra greets warmly as he rushes into the kitchen. Levi arches a brow, because Eren on a normal day is a big, bumbling, annoying idiot whose pent-up energy needs a thorough rain check; Eren today looks like even more of a big, bumbling idiot than usual.

This is not good.

“How was school today?” Petra ruffles his hair like nothing’s amiss and Levi shoots her a nasty look because he knows she knows that Eren’s firecracker energy today spells Impending Doom. Instead of giving them a colorful, sparkly show, Levi is quite sure they’ll be given an explosion and one hell of a kitchen to clean the longer they allow this overly excited version of their adopted son to linger.

“Good evening.”

The clear and pleasant (albeit slightly monotone) voice that greets them from the kitchen doorway causes Petra’s smile to widen even further—and Levi’s patience to wear thin.

“All right, spit it out,” he orders, crossing his arms in the hopes to get this over with as soon as possible. “What did you do this time?”

“Eren didn’t do anything!” another voice pipes up, a shock of blond peeking out from behind Mikasa’s scarf. When Levi’s perpetual glare settles on this poor, unsuspecting child, Armin hastily blurts out a mandatory: “Yet.”

“They just announced that the Science Fair’s coming up!” Eren informs, still too enthusiastic for Levi’s comfort, but that’s where Petra comes in.

“Are you planning to join the fair?” she asks, and to Mikasa and Armin, “Do your parents know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, but we had to go to Mikasa’s to ask for permission, that’s why I came home a little late,” Eren answers for his friends, his voice turning sheepish at the end, eyes darting nervously between his father and the floor (not that looking at the floor is alleviating his anxiousness in any way, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness stares him back in the face as glaringly as Levi’s gaze itself).

“So what,” his father bristles disapprovingly, “Are you going to build a baking soda volcano or something?”

“Or… something,” Eren supplies meagerly, and it doesn’t help that neither Mikasa nor Armin are offering any placating clarification or better yet: an explanation.

“And what exactly is this something?” Petra asks, god bless her soul.

“We’re still working out the details!” Armin says, now looking as nervous as Eren. “So is it all right if we stay for dinner… sir, ma’am?”

Before Levi can open his mouth to deliver the big fat No he’s been itching to deal out since Eren came crashing in, Petra shoves Eren and his friends in the direction of the stairs and says with what Levi can tell is genuine sweetness, “Of course! Levi will drive you guys home too, so don’t you go walking out in the streets at night, you hear?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Eren beams at her and then he’s rushing off with his friends to conspire. “Holler when dinner’s ready!”

“You mind the time, brat!” Levi snaps, having crossed the distance between him and his wife. “Either you come down on time for dinner or you’re getting leftovers.”

Eren blanches, and then he’s mock-saluting, used to his father’s attitude. “Aye aye, Captain!”

The kids disappear behind Eren’s door with a loud bang, and then Levi is whirling on his wife, displeasure evident in the crease of his brow. “You and I both know encouraging him was a bad idea.”

“For your kitchen, maybe,” she quips easily, all versions of his glare having lost its effect on her years ago.

“I’m not just talking about that,” he grouses in a tone that indicates he is just talking about that.

“Young adolescents need encouragement!” is her defense, and then she’s pushing past him. “Especially around his age.”

“Who told you that?” he scoffs, “The Parent-Teacher Association?”

The way she blushes slightly is telling enough. “Seriously?” He sounds genuinely shocked.

“He’s entering high school now, I’m just trying to be a little more… lenient.” She shrugs, and he absent-mindedly brushes her hair back from her face when it falls forward with the motion of her cutting the vegetables. “Let him spread his wings and all.”

“At a Science Fair?” he replies incredulously. “You want him to end up like Shitty Glasses?”

“First of all, that is not how we regard friends in this household,” Petra scolds uselessly. “Second of all, why not? He seems excited about it.”

“Wait until he steals all your bleach to conduct hair-brained experiments,” he scoffs, and Petra rolls her eyes at his argument because the only one who cares for kidnapped bleach is him.

“Listen, they’re probably planning right now,” Petra begins.

“You mean Armin’s doing all the planning,” Levi interjects, grumbling.

“Exactly!” Petra beams like he just walked into her trap and he realizes a millisecond too late that he did.

(Wives definitely have too much power.)

“Armin’s a smart boy and he knows how to keep Eren in check—remember that incident with the rock?”

She builds a solid argument and Levi has to admit that, albeit he does so with a bit of snark, flicking her hair like they’re still teenagers and sending her a complimentary ‘tch’ sound to put a cherry on top of all his irritation.

Her muffled laugh at his reaction serves as a familiar response, and as they settle into a comfortable rhythm in their kitchen as they always do, she looks up at him with a considerate smile and aims to bargain, “We’ll just trust him with whatever it is he plans to do, okay? He came asking us for permission, after all. Teenagers I know would have run off and done whatever it is they wanted to without asking for anyone’s permission.”

The reference to his days as a rogue in the outskirts of the city is plain as day, but as always Petra manages to make it seem like something worthy of admiration—something cool, and not at all something to be ashamed about. She’s always been one to see something for what it is, and Levi doesn’t doubt for a second that her admiration for him isn’t misguided at all, because he knows—he’s learned—all the ways that Petra is genuine, and this is one of the ways.

So even though he’s usually the one calling the shots around here, for a rare occasion, he relents and listens to her.

“You can keep him in line if he goes too far,” she continues, and she sounds so sure that nothing will go wrong that Levi almost believes her, “Since you’re the only one who can do that.”

He huffs, flicking her hair again. “Are you stupid?” he asks, and the question has bite but he manages to relay it in a way that sounds so incredibly fond, “You’re forgetting all the times he’s listened to you instead of me.”

“We’re even then.” She grins, and he’s a little surprised when she leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. You’re doing great.”

A thousand nights of doubting himself and his abilities as a caretaker weigh behind that last sentiment—a thousand nights of hurling insults into the sky at self-righteous parents who thought he was unfit for the job, a thousand nights of Petra sitting by him and letting him take his frustration out on the grimy state of their house’s outer walls because they were wrong, because for all his crass he would never walk away from his kid—and because this is Petra, he believes her.

And because this is Petra, he tilts his head to take advantage of their solitude, and dinner is delayed by a few minutes.

—

“So,” Eren preludes, his grin still far too exuberant for Levi’s liking, “We have a plan!”

Armin nods in tandem with the announcement, but his mouth is too full of mashed potatoes that he has yet to provide any input into this so-called plan.

“All right, we’re listening.” Petra opens the floor for discussion with a slight wave of her knife, and Levi finds the unconscious action amusing. Maybe this is why he does all the threatening in their relationship. “But first, when’s the Science Fair?”

“Two weeks from now,” Mikasa informs. “Eren wants to generate biodiesel.”

Levi and Petra blink. “He wants to what?”

“We’re going to store used cooking oil and treat it to remove impurities, then we’re going to subject it to transesterification in order to produce biodiesel that we can use to power a toy car or something,” Armin rushes to explain, though the looks of impervious ignorance gracing the adults’ faces does not fade in the slightest, “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s a solid plan and will most likely just take a week of trials, so we’ll be in time for the fair.”

“I’m making the posters,” Mikasa adds, as an afterthought.

“Hold on.” Petra shakes her head. “What’s this about biodiesel?”

“Biodiesel is an eco-friendly fuel source made from cooking oil!” Eren tells them enthusiastically, though he just sounds like he’s citing a Wikipedia article the way Hange prattles away about her experiments. Levi side-eyes Petra with a damning look of ‘I told you this would happen.’

“Basically it’s like gas,” Armin explains, always ready to back Eren up with solid fact. “But it isn’t harmful to the environment. We’re thinking of creating biodiesel for the Science Fair, because—”

“It’s sure to win!” Eren interjects animatedly. “We’re going to beat that horse-face Jean and his potato arc reactor if it’s the last thing I do!”

‘Arc reactor?’ Petra mouths confusedly, but Levi’s just as clueless as her.

“So basically…” Petra tries, and Levi continues her sentiment with a deadpan, “You want to turn my kitchen into a fucking power plant.”

A look of sure-fire guilt and hopeful excitement crosses Eren’s face at the fact that Levi understands exactly what they’re trying to do here—which could end in a disastrously good or a disastrously bad way, depending on how he takes it. (Eren made his friends promise to cross their fingers behind their backs while trying to convince Levi into allowing them to conduct experiments at home, just for that extra boost of luck.)

“Walk us through the methodology,” is the order that comes out of Levi’s mouth, but it’s leaning more towards that hopeful excitement than the sure-fire guilt from earlier, so Eren’s still revving in full throttle when he delivers a run-down of what he and Armin had discussed earlier, with the occasional input from Mikasa.

“We’re going to let Mikasa cook three hundred grams of chicken in three-hundred grams of oil,” he starts slowly, so as not to lose his parents—or himself—in the process of explaining their project. “Because Armin said it should be a one-to-one ratio.”

Levi nods like he understands, so Eren continues, “Then we’re going to heat up the used oil at sixty degrees for about an hour to remove any moisture or impurities.”

“Hold on. How are you going to do that?” Petra asks, her brows furrowed. “What equipment are you going to use?”

“We’re going to borrow flasks from Mom’s lab,” Armin supplies, “We’ll put the used oil inside, then we’re going to heat the flasks in a pot—kind of like a water bath for the oil.”

“And that’s it? It becomes biodiesel?”

“Um.” Armin flushes embarrassedly. “Not exactly. That’s still the… first step.”

“How are you going to generate biodiesel then?” Levi crosses his arms derisively, like this is the sign of Impending Doom he’d divined earlier.

“Well—we let it react,” Armin stutters, “With methanol. And sulfuric acid.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that pervades the dining table at the mention of hazardous chemicals, and Eren is tense the whole time, Armin quivering beside him and Mikasa coiled as though ready to spring into action at any moment, and some niggling part of these kids’ brains whispers in fright that maybe they’ll find a dinner table flying at their faces at any given moment now, even though Levi hates it when he has to clean up after broken glass.

It doesn’t help at all that Petra is simply staring at him lengthily, as though waiting for him to say something. That means she’ll agree with whatever he decides and if he decides they can’t do it then that’s a promising project going right down the drain. Eren crosses his fingers harder.

“You better make sure we don’t get food poisoning,” Levi finally says, spooning vegetables into his mouth, and at the verdict both Eren and Petra look like they’re ready to bring him the entire fucking moon.

—

A few days later, Levi shuts the door in Hange’s face.

“Hey!” comes the muffled yell of outrage from outside. She seems to have brought bothersome company with her, because after that he’s being scolded.

“Levi, this is not how you should be treating your guests,” Erwin’s voice booms, but Levi can’t really bring himself to care, so he turns around and walks away, except he’s intercepted by Petra, who with her welcoming nature disrupts all his last-minute plans for a peaceful weekend.

“Hange, Erwin, wonderful to see you!” she greets, and the taller woman falls forward to press a grateful kiss to Petra’s cheek in return.

“Wonderful to see you too, unlike some people,” Hange gripes, and if he were any younger Levi probably would have flipped her off in reply. Instead, he just passes his handkerchief to his wife with a grave aura about him, pointing to his cheek when Petra tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Is Aunt Zoë here!?” Eren yells from upstairs, but his parents find no need to give him a positive response when they can already hear him thundering down the stairs. “Aunt Zoë!”

“My little titan looks like he’s grown so big!” Hange gushes, already accepting the firecracker that is Eren Ral into her open arms and swinging him around like a stuffed toy. Eren laughs, because then he’s swung into his Uncle Erwin’s arms too, who catches him with as much ease as it had taken Hange to pick him up. “What have you been feeding him, Petra? At this rate he’ll grow taller than Levi! You haven’t been giving him an overdose of Cherifer, have you?”

“The only person in overdose here is you, Shitty Glasses,” Levi grouses, and Hange flicks his forehead in return.

“Where’s Armin?” Erwin asks, setting Eren down. “We’ve brought all the materials he asked for from Hange’s lab, so you should be ready to start your experiment.”

Armin and Mikasa hurry from the stairs just as Erwin asks, and the former is beaming up at the man with unreserved gratitude. “Thanks Dad!”

“No problem,” Erwin replies, patting his head. “Eren, you help me carry the stuff from the car.”

“Yessir!” Eren rushes outside with Erwin in tow, and as they do so Mikasa tugs on Petra’s sleeve.

“What is it, dear?” Petra smiles, and Mikasa looks up at her, that overcast gaze clouded with a steely determination.

“Ms. Ral,” she starts, “Can you show me how to cook fried chicken?”

—

The weekend is—and this is the understatement of the year—a Fucking Disaster.

Eren has managed to turn their kitchen into a laboratory this time, with a digital weighing scale plugged in next to the microwave and a big pot filled with three Erlenmeyer flasks settled upon Levi’s most prized possession: the induction stove.

He stands like a cactus in the corner of the kitchen—prickly and dry and harmful to anyone who comes within reach except maybe Petra—surveying the people who have invaded his home and who are now boiling three flasks of used cooking oil, methanol, and sulfuric acid inside his cooking pot.

He’ll have to buy a new cooking pot after this weekend if the way Hange’s leering over it is any indication.

Petra and Mikasa are situated by the stove, cooking batches of chicken thigh that Petra had him drive to the store to buy (he has to crack that Wife-Power thing before it does him in someday). Mikasa’s adept at learning and that applies here, as she whips out batch after batch of fried chicken and pours golden oil into a beaker for Hange to separate into a For Analysis test tube and a For Experiment flask.

Eren had tried to cook a chicken, but it had blackened as a consequence of his sporadic attention span.

So now he’s just the designated stirrer, since a water bath is these kids’ alternative for a three-neck batch reactor (as if Levi and Petra even know what the hell that is) and the reaction needs to be stirred constantly, according to Hange and Armin, who parrot each other frequently regarding the methodology that now everyone’s got it memorized.

Even Levi, who stipulated earlier that he would not be helping them turn his kitchen into a disaster zone whilst raising a spray bottle of self-concocted cleaning solvent in their faces like he was going to shoot them with it any second.

The first time Armin tries to pour a batch of oil into a flask for pre-treatment he’s shaking so badly under Levi’s dead-eyed stare that he accidentally spills everything. Levi’s muttering a string of profanities as he proceeds to do self-designated clean-up duty.

Erwin pats the boy on the back and when he tries for the second time, Eren notices his uncanny ability to pour just enough oil into a flask to make 250 mL.

That sort of diverges into a little side-experiment where Hange encourages Armin to pour oil at a variety of different volumes—20 mL, 50 mL, 150 mL, and so on—and it vaguely reminds Levi of a drinking party when they cheer every single time Armin gets the exact measurement after one try.

It takes Petra asking them in learned Levi-fashion “what they’re trying to do” that everyone remembers they’re here for a biodiesel experiment and not an experiment to test Armin’s Hidden Talent (even though Levi’s 110% sure Hange has an entire encyclopedia dedicated to her son’s growth alone, and that’s not including the record she’s probably kept of Eren over the years, from all his baby teeth down to every single nail clipping).

They go back to watching over the cooking-pot slash water-bath, and Hange yells bloody murder when she realizes they’ve let the temperature get to one-hundred—Levi moves in anticipation of a coming explosion but thankfully that doesn’t happen.

At some point Petra’s hand ghosts over his butt and he turns his head to snap at her for stealing his phone, but everyone’s suddenly back in Drinking Party mode as Petra records Mikasa flipping chicken thighs like they’re pancakes and aiming them at the plate Eren has raised a few feet away. Hange’s yelling in admiration and scribbling onto a notepad—Levi’s brows crease because since when did she have a notepad—and then Hange asks like it’s the end of the world: “How do you manage to make every chicken land on the plate?”

Mikasa turns in that aloof manner of hers that Levi can respect, and then she’s saying: “I’m good at calculating angles.”

That gets Hange’s undivided attention for the rest of the hour, with Eren trying to get her back on track with reasons along the lines of, “We’re not here to study Mikasa’s eyeballs, Aunt Zoë!”

Levi thinks that maybe they all would have been arrested right there and then if anyone else had heard it—for fuck’s sake Erwin is the goddamn Chief of Police, but all this so-called Chief-of-Police does is turn to look at Armin with a jovial smile and a politely asked, “So what’re we doing next?”

It’s midnight by the time Eren gets four rows of biodiesel samples to test on a toy car the next day—if he can wake up to greet the next day, that is—and it’s nearly one in the morning by the time Levi’s got the entire kitchen spotless and all the trash (including Hange and company) out the door.

He crashes into bed after a quick three-minute shower, and he can barely question why the heck Eren is in their bed too before Petra rolls to curl into his side, sound asleep.

He sighs in reluctant compliance, but it’s easy to sink between the warmth of Petra and Eren at his sides, and when he drifts off to sleep he thinks the comfort is well-rewarded after a rather tiring day.

—

The day of the Science Fair comes, and Levi looks bored as he scrutinizes all the other booths around them. He spots the mandatory baking soda volcano off to the side and decides Eren’s got this competition in the bag until he notices a horse-faced classmate flaunting some Potato Arc Reactor with much vigor.

“That’s the horse-face you were talking about?” Levi asks incredulously, because he hadn’t expected Eren to be accurate in his observation of the other boy. Eren nods in a manner that can’t be described as anything else but “repulsed”, his eyebrows scrunching in the middle like he’s itching to just punch the boy in the face. Which Levi wouldn’t really mind—he thinks this fair could use a little more flair.

“Well I think you’re definitely going to win!” Petra cheers, and her positive energy is the only boost Eren needs because when the panel of judges comes strolling by he leads the presentation and the demonstration of his project with what Levi deems is adequate decency.

“You three really made that?” one of them jeers. “I don’t believe you for a second—you seem to have used chemicals unavailable to high schoolers. Did you solicit outside help for this experiment?”

Eren, dumb and determined as always, doesn’t disappoint when he snaps back, “The only people we asked were our parents, and the guidelines say we can ask our parents!”

Another judge narrows his eyes—Levi recognizes him as Nile Dok, that annoying prat who usually leads the Parent-Teacher Association meetings, and he feels inclined to punch this man in the face and break a few teeth when he whirls on Petra to ask, like he’s ready to persecute the lot of them for breaking the rules, “And what exactly were your contributions to this project, Ms. Ral?”

The man stumbles back in surprise when Petra levels him with a stern glare and a just as sternly said, “I simply showed them how to cook the chicken to get their used oil, Mr. Dok. Nothing more than that.”

“Hm.” He studies her for a long moment before turning to face Levi instead, which would have been a huge mistake if they hadn’t been within school premises and Levi had all the room to demonstrate just how many ways he could break this man’s teeth. “And you, Mr. Ral? Did you contribute in any way to your son’s project?”

“Hah? Of course I contributed.” He shifts his weight onto one foot, and with an air of nonchalance that manages to qualify Eren for first place in this stupid competition, he says with all seriousness:

“I ate the chicken.”

#rivetra #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren yaegar #petra ral #levi ackerman #or more accurately levi ral #because tehcnicalities #further explained on a/n in ao3 #said a/n also contains references i used if anyone's interested #yay

36 notes · View notes

sagurus · 4 years

Text

04. caged

Prompt was: Running out of time: caged.

Using @whumptober2020‘s prompt today.

The original idea behind this is credited to @magpythe; I don’t believe he’s posted any of his writing for this au himself yet, but it’s inspired entirely from a scenario that he started, and then we talked about collaboratively. For some context, this takes place in a world much like our own in terms of scientific rules, except there are magical/supernatural beings (vampires, werewolves, shinigami, kitsune, etc) living among us as well. This was a well-kept secret from the general populace bc those magical beings didn’t want to deal with the backlash, but alas this facade couldn’t last. Humans aren’t handling their new understanding of the world very well :’)

Anyway, onto the story.

----------

Eighteen hours, fifty-seven minutes, and counting.

The cell was minimalistic and austere. Plain walls behind and beside him. Metal bars before him, looking out at a vacant wall. The opposite side of the holding area. His cell was one of about five in the short hallway, all lined against one side of it, with a door on either end. Each cell was a little under two metres wide and three deep. Saguru’s own cell was the second from the right.

Insofar as he could tell, he was the only one in this particular holding area. In the nineteen hours he had spent here, the only sounds he heard beyond his own breathing were those of officers. It would seem that most non-human individuals who displayed the clinically-induced violent reaction were swiftly neutralized without extenuating circumstances to protect them. He was lucky, he thought bitterly, that nepotism could guarantee him the civility of a holding cell rather than more immediate measures. For other, less fortunate individuals, Saguru imagined that containing them was seen as risky. Or a waste of resources better dedicated to human criminals who had willingly broken the law, rather than innocent non-human civilians forced into a hopeless situation.

How long they intended to hold him here, though, he didn’t know. For all he knew, it could be indefinite. Or he could be released tomorrow. Or meet some more final fate. The seconds ticked by.

Nineteen hours, five minutes. By his calculation, it was almost noon, assuming his timekeeping wasn’t too faulty without the aid of his pocket watch.

The heavy, industrial door fell open and then closed again, sounding out a dulled thud. Footsteps clicked against linoleum tile. Saguru estimated at least three officers, until he belatedly managed to pick out a fourth, much lighter set of steps. Someone slight. A child? He dearly hoped it wasn’t a child’s footsteps he was hearing. There was something strange about them, too. Something about the way that these steps struck and slided across the tile, making them sound…sharp?

The cluster came near enough he could just make out the line of one of the officer’s uniforms. He stayed seated on his cot, listening. He couldn’t see the majority of the group from here, let alone make out whether the owner of the smaller footsteps had, indeed, been a child. There was a solemn air as the door to the cell neighboring his own. Small footsteps padded inside. The cell door shut. A woman’s voice, strained and tense (not with fear—guilt? Stress?) said, “Someone will bring your dinner around seven.”

A beat, something like hesitation hovering in the air, and then the officers’ steps (all three sets) retreating down the hall. Saguru held his breath, waiting for the officers to be out of the holding area entirely.

Once they were gone, he continued to wait, listening in for any activity from his new neighbor.

Saguru’s own arrival into this situation had been a rather unexpected one for all parties involved. The issue was this: the world was rapidly becoming aware of the existence of supernaturally-inclined beings existing among them in society—generally referred to as youkai in Japan. Sensationalized media ensured that this was not well-received, but at the very least most inhuman individuals still managed to keep the truth under wraps and continue to assimilate. Until scientific innovation introduced a drug which garnered no reaction from virtually all humans, but revealed any magically obscured, glamoured, or otherwise concealed features that these other beings possessed. It also bore a few potential unfortunate side effects for some youkai. The most common of these was an uncontrollable violence, pushing the recipient into a dangerous frenzy. In other, rarer cases, the drug had even killed some. The kicker here was that Hakuba labs was a major proponent for the creation of the drug and helped pioneer it. Once the drug left clinical trials, it was determined that it needed to be administered to as much of the populace of Japan as possible, in order to catalog human and youkai population.

Hakuba Takahiro and his ex-wife, Rosalin Caldwell, were both humans. As far as anyone had been aware, Hakuba Saguru was also human. Saguru himself had never doubted this.

That didn’t explain the flurry of flame, the way he had tried to surge out his seat, the loss of sense or understanding, vision gone red in outrage. They had barely managed to restrain him. His father had almost been struck with the explosive fire, before Saguru had somehow managed to extinguish it.

On principle, Saguru had been opposed to the usage of the drug; frankly, the ethical implications were horrifying even without the potential for dangerous side-effects geared specifically toward one party of people. Nevermind the fact there were not yet any laws to protect youkai, nor any clear delineation of a plan to accommodate for them a place in society. He had considered refusing to participate in receiving it and thus being complicit in the cause, but his father had left him little room for argument.

Needless to say, it had all gone very badly. So far, Saguru had not been informed at all about what was being discussed with regards to his fate.

Hell, he still didn’t even understand why it had happened.

In the cell beside Saguru’s, his new neighbor seemed to be getting acquainted with the room. Those strange, precise footsteps seemed to walk its inner perimeter. A few moments later, he heard the sound of the cot squeaking and settling.

Breathing, even and measured, but in a forced way. A restrained way. Holding something in.

Saguru couldn’t think of a single thing he could say to improve the situation. He decided he would wait until he heard some indication that the other would even want conversation.

Hours of mutual silence later, the heavy door opened and shut again. Heavy footfalls approaching from down the hallway. Saguru guessed that it was probably for dinner.

“Who would have thought Beika city’s murder magnet really was a shinigami after all?” the officer observed with an amusement that Saguru found chilling. It seemed to be directed at the neighboring cell, as the officer hadn’t reached Saguru yet.

Beika city’s murder magnet… Dawning horror. There was only one person Saguru could think of who matched that morbid description.

Meanwhile, the officer was met with tense silence. After apparently handing off the food, he moved onto Saguru. Saguru started at him icily. He was silent, privately daring the man to breathe a word in his direction. The officer, this time, was equally silent.

Once the officer was gone, Saguru set his food aside. He didn’t have any appetite to speak of, right now. Instead, he needed to know. “Edogawa-kun, is that you?”

The response was a startled, stammered, “Haku—Hakuba nii-san?” Alarm colored his voice. Clearly, he was just as distressed to find someone familiar here.

Saguru’s heart sank. “Yes, indeed, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” Edogawa demanded.

Saguru laid back on the cot, exhaled long and slow. “I suppose I’m not human,” he said simply. “Believe me, it was a surprise to me, too.” He paused, and then ventured, “Are you unhurt?”

He tried to imagine what Edogawa must look like, now. The officer had called him a shinigami, but Saguru wasn’t entirely clear on what, visually, that entailed. Bat wings came to mind. He thought back to the strange sound of the boy’s footsteps. How much of his anatomy had been forced to change to its truer form because of the injection?

“More or less,” was Edogawa’s noncommittal response.

Saguru was still trying to get his head around the fact that the police had put a seven-year-old in a holding cell. Youkai or not, this was a child. What did they intend to do with him?

This had all been much easier when all Saguru had to worry about was his own fate.

Edogawa Conan, as it turned out, made a perfectly good neighbor, and even a pleasant conversation partner. The sheer amount of boredom that came with sitting in a cell with nothing to do for hours that stretched into days was almost enough to forget the horror of their situation. Either way, the only real escape—from the horror or the boredom—was to fill the space with conversation.

Fortunately, there was plenty to talk about. Old cases, literature, trading favorite Sherlock Holmes stories. The situation at hand. It was difficult not to discuss the problem they were in together, as they were both people who couldn’t help but try to study a problem from all angles in order to try to solve it. But inevitably the direction of those conversations turned dark too quickly for Saguru’s comfort. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to focus on the ways things could go wrong.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Edogawa said one day, apparently forgetting to use the honorific (or simply electing to drop it, there being very little bandwidth for Edogawa’s more childish act). “What are you, anyway?”

It was a blunt question, but over the past handful of days, they had mutually elected not to worry too much over politeness. Saguru faltered, before saying honestly, “I haven’t the slightest idea. I suspect one of my parents may not be biologically related to me, and whoever the other contributing party was, was some variety of youkai.” Yesterday, Saguru had been granted a visit by a scientist, who had studied him like a specimen and taken a variety of samples, all while Saguru remained restrained for the scientist’s safety. Never mind the fact that the more alarming skill he (apparently) possessed was manifesting fire without the use of any tools, so he wasn’t sure what good restraining him would do to anybody. Regardless, the examination had gone by without incident, and Saguru suspected that there had been some kind of DNA test conducted, although he had no confirmation as to the results.

Edogawa made a noise of consideration, lapsed into silence, then started again. “Did you change?” He asked, almost delicately.

“I don’t think I did,” Saguru told him. “As far as I can tell, visually everything is still the same as it had been. Admittedly, I haven’t seen my reflection since some time before the incident, so I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty.”

Quiet, again, and Saguru wondered if he should ask if Edogawa had changed, then decided against it. The other boy could tell him if he’d like, but otherwise Saguru didn’t want Edogawa to trouble him with it.

“So, they found out you were youkai because…”

“Because I had—an outburst, yes.” Understatement of the century.

Saguru could hear the grimace in Edogawa’s voice when he asked, “—Was everybody alright?”

“I—” Saguru recalled the violence of his reaction, the flames licking out and nearly making contact in a dangerous way with his father as well as one of the nurses. He recalled the feeling of a vicious snarl contorting his expression and the way he’d surged against the precautionary restraints.

He recalled going perfectly still as soon as he’d regained a handle on himself. The doctor approaching him with a new syringe, and the distant thought, Is he giving me a sedative or is he euthanising me? The foreign, turbulent rage churning inside of him until he’d gone under thanks to the shot (sedative, it turned out).

“Nobody got hurt,” Saguru assured him after a too-long silence. “It was—frightening. But nobody was hurt.”

“—I hurt a nurse,” Edogawa said, and his voice was the sort of stony that belied the great effort of holding in his emotions. “It could have been a lot worse, but I still hurt somebody. Really badly.”

“You can’t fault yourself for it,” Saguru said immediately, sternly. “It speaks volumes about your sense of accountability and responsibility, that you feel guilty for it, but it wasn’t your fault that it happened.”

“If you say so.”

It was their seventh day like this. Still, Saguru received no news any time he asked a passing officer for updates.

Earlier today, Hattori Heiji had visited, apparently to discreetly provide Edogawa some contraband (such as books). Edogawa had kindly requested that Hattori pass one of those books to Saguru. The other detective had been frankly shocked to realize he was here, and despite their usual animosity, the other boy had seemed mostly genuinely concerned for him. When Saguru asked if there was anything Hattori could tell him about the situation, it had been a definite negative. Apparently his situation was being kept well out of the hands of the media, at least for now. Saguru could only imagine his father must have told the school that he was on some sort of vacation, or had accepted a case which required him to head overseas again. Nobody would be worried about him, then.

Now, the visit was over and they had lapsed into silence while they, for the moment, privately entertained themselves. Rather than read, Saguru had tucked the book away for later, and was instead practicing what little exercise he could to keep his body active. Right now it was warm-up stretches. He desperately ached to go on a run.

At some point, Edogawa cut into the silence.

“What do you think is going to happen, Hakuba?” and then, hastily added, “—nii-san.” He sounded pensive, uncertain. He didn’t sound afraid, but Saguru thought that he might be anyway.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, opting for honesty rather than false hope. “It’s been a week and we’re still here. I don’t know what anyone’s plan for us is.”

“Yeah…” Edogawa trailed off, deep in thought. Saguru wondered if it would have been better to say that he was sure things would wind up working out. The problem was, he wasn’t sure. He had been under the impression that he would be placed under holding until they worked out the best circumstance to harness or otherwise stifle his apparent abilities, and then return him to something like normal life, but with a tight leash.

But now it had been seven days, with no developments, and Saguru was beginning to wonder if this was all much more dire than he had thought.

They both went quiet again, only for Edogawa to speak up just as abruptly as he had before. “—I need to tell you something.”

Puzzled, Saguru went still. “Proceed.”

“It’s pretty unbelievable, so I need you to bear with me. Okay?”

Edogawa seemed to do a lot of things that fell quite near the ‘unbelievable’ category, in Saguru’s experience. Much like Kuroba tended to, although they had different styles in the ways they defied reality. “I’ll do my best to keep an open mind,” he assured Edogawa.

“My name isn’t really Edogawa Conan,” he began.

And the sky was blue, and Kaitou KID was Kuroba Kaito. “Mm.”

“It’s actually Kudou Shin’ichi, and I’m really seventeen, not seven.”

So this is what Edogawa meant when he said it was unbelievable. He couldn’t help but wonder if Edogawa was engaging in a delusion to cope with the frankly traumatic situation they had found themselves in. “Is that so?” he inquired, honoring his promise to keep an open mind. Edogawa was right, though. This was difficult to believe.

Edogawa made an irritated sound, like he could tell Saguru didn’t believe him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, and almost no one knows. I want you to know. I—a year and a half ago, I went with Ran to Tropical Land, and worked that case with the roller coaster beheading.”

Saguru recalled the news reports of that case all too well. Truly, it had been a particularly gruesome case, so he was eternally gratefully it hadn’t been him on the scene.

“There were these suspicious men there, and after I solved the case I left Ran so I could tail them and figure out what they were up to. But one of them surprised me from behind, knocked me out, and gave me this—drug,” allegedly-Kudou-Shin’ichi explained. “It was supposed to kill me via apoptosis, but instead it… de-aged me. ”

It was certainly a lot to process. It felt a little bit like the plot of a bad science fiction. But he spoke with urgency, and he was clearly being genuine. Although Saguru was still inclined to lean toward delusion, he decided to consider his way through the facts he had from his limited research into the whereabouts of Kudou Shin’ichi. It was true that the same day Kudou disappeared, Mouri Ran had wound up taking in Edogawa Conan. It would explain the strange amount of knowledge and understanding Edogawa possessed, especially in terms of investigating crime scenes and solving cases. It also clarified anachronistic errors—moments when Edogawa would say he’d seen something when it was first released, even though it should have come out well before his birth date.

After analyzing the facts, Saguru realized there was nothing (beyond his own understanding of scientific development) that disproved the claim. None of the facts he had specifically proved it either, though. He didn’t know the other detective well enough to quiz Edogawa in order to prove it for himself, either.

He thought back to their previous conversation. They didn’t know, really, what would become of them here. If they would make it out of here. Perhaps this was a delusion, but if so, Saguru didn’t think it would do any good to deny the other that. It certainly wouldn’t change anything for the better in the short term.

Saguru resolved that he would take the other boy at his word, and, should he have the means and opportunity if they got out of this, he’d pursue it more critically then.

“—I see,” he said, nodding slowly although Kudou couldn’t see him. “It is good to have gotten to know you, then, Kudou-kun. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

When the other boy next spoke, it was obvious to Saguru that something coiled very tightly had unwound. The relief was nearly palpable. “It’s good to meet you too, Hakuba-kun. Here’s to hoping we make it out of this so that we can keep getting to know each other.”

They could only hope. “I’ll do my best to remain optimistic,” Saguru murmured in agreement.

#dcmk #hakuba saguru #kudou shinichi #kudo shinichi #edogawa conan #october writing #october 2020 #whumptober #my writing

29 notes · View notes

gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 21: The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1522

Ooh, the chapter title is the same as the fic title

Elianna could not have been more proud of her mask. She had spent every second of her free time measuring and adjusting and sewing and sending Jonathan to the store to get what she needed: something he found tedious, she was sure.

Either way, she had gotten it finished with one day to spare, and she was positively giddy. Even Jonathan had seemed impressed, and from what she could tell by what he had said, Scarecrow was thrilled with her dedication to the fear project. When she had finished, Jonathan had surprised her with a fear gas sleeve rig like his, and she was aching for the chance to use both of her new toys.

It was getting dark out when Jonathan came into her office, looking annoyed.

"Rachel Dawes is on her way here," he monotoned, making her frown. She had yet to meet Dawes, but she had been causing trouble for them from the start.

"Why?"

"Apparently," he began with a sigh, removing the doorstopper to let it swing closed, "she disagrees with the fact that Falcone got moved here. She finds his mental break suspicious."

"She's really up on her white horse, huh?" Jonathan scoffed in response.

"Either way, she might back off if she thinks I have a second opinion on this case. Are you up for a little acting?"

"Absolutely. What's the plan for if she doesn't buy it?"

"You have your mask on you?" El nodded, fondly remembering Jonathan talking her through making the false bottom of her briefcase.

"We match now!"

"Yes, we do. Just make sure it closes all the way when you're done with it."

"Good, she'll be here in a little under an hour. And we're the only ones here besides the orderlies, so I just got Falcone's men downstairs to supervise. Hopefully, everything will be able to go smoothly tomorrow."

"I'm sure it will just focus on the task at hand."

El had been surprised when Jonathan told her that he had managed to pay off some of Falcone's thugs to be loyal to them, and more than a little suspicious. But after meeting them and working with them for a few days, she was actually very grateful that she and Jonathan had people to delegate to for the last few days of work.

.xXx.

Dawes ended up arriving much earlier than projected, which only served to irritate Jonathan further. The entire walk to Falcone's cell was spent with him practically fuming and El becoming more and more curious about just how annoying one person could actually be.

"Miss Dawes, this is most irregular," Jonathan spoke as they approached, not giving the woman a chance to get the first word in. El caught on to the energy and jumped in before the other woman could get a word out.

"I'm Doctor Montgomery, I've been consulting on this case, and I speak for both of us when I say that we have nothing further to add to the report we filed with the judge."

"I have some questions about your report."

"Such as?" Jonathan challenged while El arranged her face into what she hoped was something patient and expectant. God, she really is tiresome.

"Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two-year-old man who had no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he's about to be indicted?" She had a fair point, but El made sure to keep her face impassive.

"Well, as you can see for yourself, there's nothing convenient about his symptoms." Oh dear, he's getting pissed. The woman didn't have a response planned for that, so she turned her attention stubbornly back to the man behind the glass, who was muttering to himself.

"What's 'scarecrow?'" The brunette fired off. El took it upon herself to reply so that Jonathan wouldn't snap.

"Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor," she explained, doing her best to keep her voice pleasant and collegial. "Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case," she gestured to the glass, "a scarecrow."

"And he's drugged?" This question seemed to amuse Jonathan.

"Psychopharmacology is my primary field. I'm a strong advocate." The thought of Jonathan being an 'advocate' for anything nearly made El laugh. "Outside, he was a giant. In here, only the mind can grant you power." Dawes shifted her eyes between the pair through narrowed eyes.

"You two enjoy the reversal." Jonathan allowed himself a mildly amused smile if only for a second.

"Doctor Montgomery and I respect the mind's power over the body." El nodded in agreement.

"It's why we do what we do," she smiled, keeping up her friendly persona. She was hoping that if she did her part properly, maybe it would lessen the suspicion on Jonathan, but it didn't seem to work. In fact, Dawes sent a scowl in her direction.

"I do what I do to keep thugs like Falcone behind bars, not in therapy." With that, she breezed past them toward the elevator. Jonathan and El shared a look, knowing what had to happen next. She was still talking as they turned to catch up with her. "I want my own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone, including bloodwork. Find out exactly what you two put him on." El rolled her eyes, thankful that the Dawes's back was still turned to her.

"First thing tomorrow then," Jonathan sighed as they flanked her at the elevator doors, knowing what had to come next.

"Tonight," she charged into the elevator ahead of them, and El suddenly understood very well why Jonathan and Scarecrow seemed to hate the brunette so much. She herself was struggling not to choke her out right there in the elevator. "I've already paged Doctor Lehmann at County General" as if they were supposed to know who that was. Maybe Jonathan did, but judging by his lack of reaction, probably not.

Jonathan inserting his key to take them to the basement didn't go unnoticed by the redhead, but Dawes didn't seem to catch it. "As you wish," he forced out through gritted teeth as the door closed behind them.

Dawes gave Elianna a questioning look when the doors opened to reveal the basement, to which El replied with a reassuring smile.

"This way, please," Jonathan directed, leading them into the hallway. "There's something I think you should see."

The one thing that El didn't understand was how they would get her through the secret panel in the closet. She was going over different scenarios in her head when Jonathan passed the door and instead approached a larger one at the end of the hallway where it turned and pushed the double doors open dramatically.

They all came forward to stand on a balcony overlooking the workroom that El had grown familiar with, one level above where the secret panel led out. She understood now why they took the other way: the stairs going from the level they were standing on to the next level down had been taken out.

The redhead watched the dawning horror on the attorney's face as she took in what was happening as Jonathan spoke again.

"This is where we make the medicine." No, not Jonathan. It was subtle, but once she heard it, it was unmistakable. That was Scarecrow mimicking Jonathan's voice. Dawes was too shocked to notice the slight change in cadence, and her gaze was affixed to an inmate pouring a drum of the toxin directly into a busted open water pipe.

Not just any inmate either. Zsasz. Feeling someone watching him, he looked up in curiosity; when he saw El standing there, he shuddered and quickly turned back to what he was doing, his breath coming in broken gasps as he remembered something he would rather not. Elianna grinned when she saw Rachel make the connection and snap her head to look at her. "You-!" she managed to gasp out.

"Me," El confirmed with a wink. A low chuckle drew their attention back to the bespectacled man beside them.

"Perhaps you should have some, Miss Dawes. Clear your head." The brunette woman bolted for the elevator, and the two leftover partners in crime shared a look. Scarecrow smiled at El, a full smile; something she had never seen from Jonathan. It was sort of nice to see, and she smiled back as Scarecrow produced his face fluidly from their briefcase.

Rachel had reached the elevator. Luckily for the scheming pair, it wouldn't budge without the basement key. All Rachel managed to see when the elevator doors opened again were two masks, one burlap and one that seemed to be lined on the outside with faux leather, fashioned into a long, sleek beak.

Then, a cloud of gas—fired at the same time that she gasped in fear—and she coughed as the gas entered her lungs. When she looked back up, the masks had been distorted and twisted, oozing from the holes and crawling with...god, something. It didn't matter because they each seized an arm and dragged her back out of the elevator before her thoughts dissolved completely.

#The Mind’s Power Over the Body #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #batman begins #Nolanverse #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #multi chapter fic #slight au #Attraction To The Insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 21

5 notes · View notes

ts-unsolved · 5 years

Text

The night we met

((i got carried away imagining this scenario, so here’s the conversation that lead to dee joining aboard the Investigation Station))

Summary: On principle, Dee tries to not let his major life choices be ruled by what happens over highly-priced drinks in crummy bars, but flying too close to the sun that was his old college rival had never been part of the equation before.

Aka: Roman tries one last time to convince Dee to hunt ghosts with him, and he finally says yes. (Aka^2: can you believe Dee has been pining for two whole years? lmao get it together boi).

Content Warnings: Drinking, mentions of smoking, allusions to drug-dealing and generally shady/unsafe atmospheres, mild swearing, references to fights/stabbing/being killed, food descriptions/eating.

Word count: 2.4k – I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met –

[February, 2015. Los Angeles, CA.]

With a languid roll of his wrist, Dee swirled the peach-colored liquid around his glass for what felt like the hundredth time since he had sat down at the round rickety table. Blame it on his keen intuition for arduous conversations, but he had not managed to settle his nerves since he and his companion had entered the dim and dusty bar, and something about the location they had found themselves in was only lending itself to his growing headache.

It wasn’t a secret that Roman’s family was loaded; Dee knew this for a fact, and yet out of all of the establishments in the city they could have gone to, the man had chosen such a lowkey place for them to meet. Perhaps in his mind the discrete look of the place was appropriate for a supposedly momentous conversation, although whatever grand idea Roman had of a ‘private business discussion’ definitely didn’t match the reality of what was going on in the shady establishment, all of which spoke of illegal activities with the subtlety of a glowing neon sign. From what he had already managed to discern from a quick glance, there were hands dealing under the tables, side-glances from couples locked in suspiciously hushed exchanges, not to mention the laundering scheme this place seemed to operate as a front for, barely even camouflaged under the displeasingly unkempt storefront with furniture that looked like it dated back to the 60′s and the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke to match.

Dee suppressed a grimace as he forced his attention away from surveying the landscape of the bar and back to the man sitting opposite him. By all means, this was the exact kind of place he would choose to hang out in if he were to catch up with some of his old high school friends, and yet being here with Roman Kingsley of all people somehow made him want to reevaluate the decisions that lead him to being in this clearly cursed timeline, because there had to have been a horribly wrong turn made somewhere.

As if sensing himself being at the center of Dee’s thoughts, Roman looked up from where he had been prodding at his unusually soggy plate of nachos (“…I was hungry, though I’m not so sure I am anymore.”), and shot Dee an unguarded twist of a smile. It was the kind of expression Roman clearly wasn’t used to wearing; which was to say that it was less of his usual brand of over-compensated arrogance and more hopeful uncertainty. Dee stared blankly back, being struck with a realization as he took in the figure that was bathed under the terrible lighting of the bar:

‘Ah. One way or another, this guy is going to be the death of me.’

Surprisingly, the thought didn’t perturb him as much as it should have. Sure, being mugged and/or stabbed in the alley out back because he had willingly accompanied this walking hotspot of disaster to one of the more dangerous parts of the city wasn’t exactly ideal, but in all honestly it didn’t feel like it would be much of a surprise for him to meet his end in such a dumb and grisly way. Of course, with his baby snake waiting for him back home he was hardly looking for trouble, and especially not at the expense of somebody he didn’t even send Christmas cards to. Even so, his gut told him that dead or alive, he wouldn’t be walking out of this bar without a semblance of trouble following him; a prospect he wasn’t sure if he found exhilarating or exhausting.

And so there the situation currently was, in an uneasy limbo. With a sigh, he pushed his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment and took a sip of his drink, finding brief refuge in the sugary film that coated his mouth and the back of his throat.

Roman tracked the glass with his eyes as it was set against the table and quirked his lips in that infuriatingly smug expression only the two of them could truly pull off. “I didn’t take you for a mocktail kind of guy. Lost your edge over the years?”

Dee simply raised an eyebrow in response. It wasn’t a surprise that Roman remembered his delinquent past, what was a surprise was how this was apparently not a determining factor in eliminating Dee as a potential co-worker given the goody-two-shoes friends the other loved to hang around. “What can I say? In my wise age, I’ve learned to value substance over a cheap high. I’d have assumed you’d have shared that viewpoint given our similar tastes for the unconventional, and yet...” He gestured to the very stereotypically masculine pint that sat in front of Roman, not untouched and yet not being attended to either. Roman scowled in response, more at the menu than at him.

“Normally I’d agree with you, but despite what you think, I don’t actually have the money to drop on overcharged garbage like some kind of idiot. I mean, look: the Merlot is $50 here, Dee. $50. For Merlot. That is borderline criminal!”

For a moment, the air in the bar stilled. Dee soon realized that Roman’s voice had gotten a tad too loud and wow he really did not want to get beaten up because this pipsqueak couldn’t figure out what the exchange of dirty money looked like even when it was staring him in the face. Time to move the subject along to something less contentious, because he really did not like the way the dead-eyed look the bartender was giving them.

“Please, you only have yourself to blame for your poor judgement calls. We’re not here to have a lovely evening out though, are we? Let’s just cut to the chase already.”

Roman simmered down with a click of his tongue, pausing to pick up a tortilla chip and eat it, only to look disappointed by the lack of crunch. Nevertheless, as asked, he dropped all pretenses of small talk.

“You read my text, then? Have you thought your decision though any more?”

There it was, the million dollar question. While he had been acting nonchalant about the matter ever since Roman had first approached him with his offer, the truth was that he had been weighing the pros and cons of this decision for days now, to no end. Remus, that absolute bastard that he was, was probably having a real laugh at his expense right now, knowing fully well the position he had put his old pal in by pointing Roman's attention his way. Perhaps a little payback on Remus’ end was warranted for their less-than-stellar parting conversation, although Dee couldn’t help his ire at his friend (ex-friend? frenemy?) for setting him up for this infuriating no-win scenario. Years ago he, young and foolish, had hoped that Roman would have dropped his inane obsession with the paranormal by college graduation, but given his current predicament it seemed he had underestimated the tenacity of Remus’ brother. Time to test the waters of that commitment, he supposed.

“About the wacky little ghost show you’ve been raving about since the dawn of time? Can’t say you’ve really sold me on it. I am a rather busy guy, you know; I can’t just drop everything for a show pitch I’m not even convinced on.”

This was a slight twist of the truth. He had been between jobs for months, a lack of inspiration and not being able to stand his bosses and coworkers being the reason he just can’t seem to stick to one place. He had long-since given up on his dream of going into show business, so for a long time he had settled on just doing what he could to maintain a living. It wasn’t a fulfilling way to live, but he was surviving, and that was all that mattered.

Nevertheless, Roman was not thrown by the negative response and instead puffed out his chest in a show of indignation. Clearly he would not be taking no for an answer without a fair fight, which likely spelled bad news for how this evening was going to go. “It’s not ‘wacky’, it’s a serious show for serious investigations! I’m really trying to prove the existence of ghosts here.”

“Right…” Dee squinted his eyes skeptically. “And you are aware that I don’t believe in ghosts, yes?”

“Obviously. Did you think I missed the three years of you being a dick about it?”

Ah, memories. Dee didn’t bother to hide his amusement at Roman’s grumbling. “My my, you’re still holding a grudge about that? Here I thought my depiction of Hamlet’s father was enough to wipe the slate clean. Didn’t it please you to see your greatest enemy play one of the spooky creatures you like so much?”

Rather delightfully, frustration gave way and the corners Roman’s eyes crinkled with the beginnings of mirth before he quickly hid the expression away by shoving another chip into his mouth. It was the kind of reaction Dee was still growing used to seeing from their back-and-forths, not quite being sure when their exchanges of teasing remarks had crossed the line into something more friendly. That said, it was certainly not an unpleasant development; in some senses, it felt rather rewarding to catch a glimpse of something less refined behind a curtain of perfectionism, much like seeing the behind-the-scenes of a broadway production.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, you really did give an excellent performance. I can still remember act one scene five like it was yesterday. 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, a serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark is by a forged process of my death’!” Roman dramatically reenacted the performance, hand pressed to his heart, and Dee preened under the praise.

“Why thank you. The dull lead was quite a letdown, though we certainly outdid ourselves in spite of the poor casting, didn’t we? Still, I can’t say that flattery will convince me to hunt ghosts with you or... whatever it is you were hoping for. The point still stands that it’s not exactly the sort of thing I’ve ever pictured putting on my resume.”

Roman’s smile faltered and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Without the comfort of dancing around their thoughts with friendly banter, things got uncomfortably serious a tad too quickly, it seemed.

“I get that it’s... not ideal to you, considering how you always had high aspirations for your career, and a webshow is probably too low on the radar for your pompous-self. Heh... To be honest, I’m not sure why Remus thought you’d be a good candidate for the job,” Wow, rude. “But he did, and I’m kind of out of options here.”

Roman paused, the buzz of bar filling the silence between them as he clearly struggled to speak what was on his mind.

“Actually, the more I think about it, I can’t come up with anyone else I’d like to join more than you. You’d be a great host! You’re good at talking to crowds when you want to, you know how to improv, you’re one of the funniest people from our class, and as much as I hate to admit it, I always enjoyed acting with you on stage-”

At some point during Roman’s rant, Dee’s brain short-circuited with the words, and even as he tried to process they just kept on coming, to his absolute befuddlement.

“-And I guess I feel like you’d co- ...Hey, phantom of the opera, are you even listening to me?! I’m pretty much singing your praises here, which let me tell you, is rare for me, and you’re staring off into space! If you’re that disinterested, you should just say so.”

“Sorry. I was paying attention, I just...”

Dee scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to work through what Roman had said. Maybe it shouldn’t be such a shock to hear the compliments coming from someone he regarded as being an equal in terms of talent, yet part of him still screamed at him that it was only empty flattery to sway his decision. Sure enough, while it may be true that his cynicism had never failed him in the past, he still yearned to ignore the knee-jerk judgment and choose the better option, the one which meant that he was considered the first choice for something and his presence was wanted. Unbelievably, even to himself, he found himself tempted, if only by the warmth that came from such a thought. Perhaps if he was without the greater knowledge that he had, he would have jumped at the opportunity in a heartbeat, however the fact still remained that he was tired and worn from years of strife. At this point in his life, self-preservation was the only thing keeping him going, and so the idea of leaving the peaceful bubble he had built up itched like nothing else. But then, his thoughts drifted back to what could happen, of letting down Remus who had obviously entrusted him in this, despite everything they had gone through.

He truly must be growing soft, if he was willingly jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

(And was that so bad, to try to feel some warmth again?)

Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes to Roman’s concerned face.

“...Alright. Perhaps flattery does get you some places. With such a compelling argument, how could I possibly say no?” He drawled, as nonchalantly as he could possibly muster.

Already flustered by his decision to agree so readily, he picked up his overly-sugary drink as a means to avoid eye-contact, though when seconds passed with no audible response, his focus still ended up being drawn to the other man for his reaction. Roman’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates and simultaneously filled with joy; despite the muddy brown of the lighting that had washed out his features into a pool of shadows, they looked as if they were sparkling.

Dee felt the wind knocked out of him at having that expression pointed towards him. It seemed like it had been so long since somebody had been brought that much happiness because of something he did. This...wasn’t a terrible feeling, he decided in that moment.

“That wasn’t sarcasm, was it? You really want to join?!” Roman just about yelled, drawing back the eyes of a few of the other patrons. Dee chuckled nervously, wondering how he could get them out of the building as swiftly as possible without causing further ruckus. If they would be working together, the last thing they needed was to get into a fist-fight, after all.

“I do. Please don’t make me regret my decision.”

In return, he was given a beaming smile, one that equally eased his uncertainties and spoke of future trouble.

“You won’t, I promise.”

#answered #Chapter 1: Settling #written responses #janus sanders #roman sanders #roceit #((or at least you have dee being Soft and Gay))#((can you tell i haven't written in many moons? ghjdhfjs))

330 notes · View notes

manitamuerte · 4 years

Text

Tarkin’s Folly - Ch. 2

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Enyo Tarkin (OC) Word Count: 2,001 Tags: Canon-Compliant until TROS, Awkward Romance, Emotionally Repressed Hux, Fixing Canon With A Hammer

Summary: Admiral Tarkin’s presence on the Steadfast is of no comfort to General Hux. The lofty weight of her family name and the reputation which proceeds her does not bode well for his future on High Command. [Read it on AO3] —

ADMIRAL TARKIN STOOD AT THE END OF THE LONG AND GLOSSY BLACK TABLE.

She quietly waited for the Supreme's Leader permission to speak, which he gave to her with a slightly bored wave of his hand. Hux could make out the slight eagerness he masked with the gesture, watching the way his shoulders relaxed as he sat in the place of honor. The General quickly turned his head so that Ren wouldn't catch him looking.

Admiral Tarkin's voice held a clear and grandiloquent quality begotten from her Eriaduian accent, which was a borrowed dialect of the Core-World's Basic – made sharp by Imperial Remnant influence. "Allegiant General Pryde and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren have asked me to prepare and present a simple evaluation of any of the high-ranking officers currently serving here on the Steadfast. I was allowed to pick anyone of my own choosing, and provide my own materials as I saw fit."

Hux felt his stomach drop. Tarkin had to know how Pryde and Ren felt about him, and she'd truly be foolish if she didn't leap on the opportunity to disparage him again in front of all the others. He knew he was the weakest link on the Council. This would be like a final nail in the coffin of his failed career, a springboard for which she could use the momentum to further her own. And if she truly was a Tarkin-- then she was no fool.

In the week she had been on board, Hux had not had a single chance to speak with the woman -- nor had much time to even consider her presence much besides on the first day of her arrival. Ren had him running off on unimportant missions, personally seeing to it that his day-to-day life was absolutely miserable even when he could not physically be there to see it.

Admiral Tarkin's grey-blue eyes pierced his skull as she turned her gaze to him for a brief moment, causing him to avert his own. Some at the table squirmed uncomfortably, either knowing the sequence of events about to happen and pitying Hux -- or more likely: Worried that her report would be about them.

She pulled a small holoprojector device from her pocket and activated it. An image of a grid and a flat rendition of D'Qar appeared and spread out over the table, and Hux immediately knew what sort of awfulness was about to transpire.

"If you could all draw your attention to the holoprojector, please. This is a representation of the failed engagement at D'Qar," She began, her voice settling in a calm and practiced lilt. "As I'm sure you all know, The Resistance was able to flee from this encounter despite the odds being heavily in First Order favor."

From the corner of his eye, Hux saw Ren lean forward in his chair with interest -- but felt the helmeted man's heavy gaze on his own countenance, watching him for any sort of reaction. He tried very hard not to give him the satisfaction, but a lump was forming in his throat that he had to swallow eventually.

"The active ships in the engagement are as follows:" As she spoke the names, the images appeared on the grid in formation. "One Mandator-IV Class C Siege Dreadnaught called the Fulminatrix, and Three Resurgent-Class Battlecruisers --plus, later, our scrambled Tie-Fighters. This was against the Resistance's One MC85 Star Cruiser, several MG-100 StarFortress SF-17's, several small squadrons of X and A-Wings. There were other Resistance ships present, but not strictly combat builds. To remind you, The Resistance was in the process of evacuating from their base of D'Qar and thus not in any sort of intelligent formation."

"Thankfully," She continued, "Their base planet-side was destroyed by the Fulminatrix's commander Captain Moden Canady. Our ships came upon the planet from hyperdrive, however you must note the formation that the ships are locked into."

The clear tactical mistake was on display for everyone to see. Hux's eyes averted from the grid, unable to take the wave of shame which washed over him. He felt Ren's eyes.

"The Resistance was able to drop a payload and destroy the Fulminatrix at the end of the engagement and escape due to many errors, including a delayed scrambling of our Tie-Fighters, as well as allowing an enemy ship behind our lines to take out all surface point-defense of the Dreadnaught. "

Hux had known the Resistance was failing, that this evacuation had been a last-ditch effort to survive. If he had simply destroyed them without the fanfare he was hoping to use for propaganda -- this would have been their final stand. His hubris haunted him -- He could have been in Pryde's place, promoted. He could have been hailed and applauded as the man who had finally stamped out the Resistance. But now he was forced to sit through a demonstration about how terrible of a commander he had once been -- a mistake, a moment of weakness -- and it's forevermore a mark against his otherwise impeccable file. Well, this and the fall of Starkiller base.

The holovid continued forward, the ships changing position. "Furthermore, I believe it was pure negligence and miscommunication which lead to the death of our personnel and the loss of the Fulminatrix. The battle formation as depicted is simply inefficient. To the point, the very sight of it makes one wonder if the commander of the engagement -- General Hux -- was purposefully sabotaging."

Hux jolted in his chair. How dare she accuse him of such a treasonous act? It was fine that she criticize him, but that was a measure too far. He felt his face grow hot in anger. His eyes locked with hers for a brief moment. He was surprised to find her expression was devoid of emotion.

"I have suggestions for how the engagement should have been handled." She clicks the holoprojector, playing a few more seconds of the holovid before pausing. The ships shift on the grid once more. "As you can see, this formation makes more sense. The battlecruisers would take escort position as I believe was intended, and thus would have the ability to create a defensive line for our Dreadnaught." The holovid illustrates this perfectly, and continues to animate as she speaks. "Furthermore, the Tie-Fighters should have been scrambled immediately, to take out the flotilla before it drew near. As an aside, I would have had the Dreadnaught prioritize the base just before or immediately after targeting the MC85 Star Cruiser -- if they had nowhere to go, the Resistance would have to take a moment to regroup and think of a new plan. This hesitation would have been our moment to attack. We direct our Tie-Fighters to clean up the survivors, and the Resistance would have been crushed."

The animation shows the rest of the ships being destroyed, then finishes. The blue glow of the projection ceases, and she places the holoprojector back into her pocket.

Ren is the first to speak, voice clipped by the vocoder of his helmet. "I applaud your...Subdued aggressiveness, Admiral Tarkin. To accuse General Hux of treason is not the angle I expected, but amusing. Furthermore, although it was not your task to come up with them -- your suggestions are...Noted."

Hux felt like a stone was lodged in his throat.

Tarkin’s face does not pale as a lesser person's might, though perhaps it was because she read Ren's comment as the compliment it was while discarding it's back-handedness. She stares right into the visor of Ren's mask. "I only provided the facts as I saw them, Supreme Leader. I expect my charges to go above and beyond in their tasks, and I uphold myself to my own standards."

"A commendable trait of anyone in a leadership position, indeed." Ren mutters, leaning ever forward. Hux hated the way he said it, in that voice he used when he pantomimed responsible authority. "However, it would do you well to be careful that your aspirations do not exceed you, Admiral."

Her mouth twitches downward, the confident mask cracking ever so slightly. This seems to be the result Ren wanted, because he leans back in his chair, looking smug and satisfied even with the helmet on his head. "Of course, Supreme Leader --” She answers, “Wise council indeed."

Ren defers to Pryde, nearly cutting off the end of Tarkin's sentence. "And what do you think, Allegiant General?"

Pryde seems to perk up considerably, his posture tense. "I believe her presentation to have been satisfactory, Supreme Leader."

Ren's voice is tight. "But what do you think, Allegiant General?" He presses. Pryde's face conceals his panic well.

"...Admiral Tarkin's suggestions are spot-on, and if I remember correctly, Captain Canady had also expressed displeasure with General Hux's methods before his untimely death. The engagement was a failure, through and through -- our victory at D'Qar quite phyrric for both involved--"

"Make no mistake, Allegiant General. The miscommunication was on Captain Canady's part." Tarkin interrupted, her voice sharp and eyes laser focused on her target. It was suddenly clear to Hux that she did not like Pryde in the least, which was of some – little – comfort. "The comms history shows General Hux attempted to have the Captain launch the Tie-Fighter squadrons upon exiting hyperspace. The problem was his lack of further correction. Captain Canady seemed to have misunderstood the order as preparation of launch only -- though I couldn't say why. I believe this was likely due to his personal feelings about the General, as I understand it. It is a disgrace." She spat the final word like it was poison. "I suspect we ask more of our officers, do we not? We shouldn't let personal grievances or opinions cost us valuable tech and personnel in the midst of engagements."

Hux was felt a cold sweat begin to break upon his brow. His embarrassing past was no secret, but he hated that she knew. Everyone knew. Canady, Pryde -- all the older ex-Imperial officers. Friends of his father. They watched him grow up, and even though he was nearing his 35th year many of them still saw him as a child and a mere extension of his father. A failed extension, even.

Pryde's face immediately flushed with anger, both from being talked down to by a lower officer and from understanding her underlying meaning. He did not chastise her with the Supreme Leader present, realizing Ren's lack of protest meant her comments were allowed. "...Of course, Admiral."

From his peripherals, Hux watched the Supreme Leader's helmet slowly turn to his side of the table. The tightness of Ren's voice was gone, instead replaced with barely filtered amusement. "General Hux, what do you have to say for yourself? Admiral Tarkin has suggested you appear so incompetent that it looks like purposeful sabotage."

The General grit his teeth, gnashing them in agony. Ren was enjoying this way too much -- and he wondered if he really set this all up just for the express purpose of his own amusement. It certainly wouldn't be out of character, that's for sure.

When Hux spoke, his voice remained level but wavered at the edges with hesitation."I am, of course, appalled at the accusations of treason suggested by Admiral Tarkin -- however, I must agree that the engagement at D'Qar was poorly executed."

Pryde snorted. "Of course you do, Hux. It's plain as anyone can see." Hux noticed Ren stiffen at Pryde's sudden outburst, curiously turning to face the Allegiant General but saying nothing.

"...Have you anything further to add, General Hux?" Was what Ren did say, after a moment of tense silence.

"...No, Supreme Leader."

"And you, Admiral Tarkin?" Ren asked, his helmet tilting slightly to suggest his gaze shifting.

"No, Supreme Leader." She echoed, sounding the smallest bit pleased with herself. Hux stole a moment to glance at her face and was not surprised to find a smug expression on it. He averted his eyes to the table like a kicked dog.

"...Very Well. You are all dismissed."

#general hux #armitage hux #general hux x oc #armitage hux x oc #my writing #tarkin's folly #fanfic #also on ao3

9 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years

Text

tentacledipity | three

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut (coming) ➛rating: sfw ➛words: 11.1k ➛warnings: none really jimothy snaps later on ➛notes: wow this took a while but I’m back tentacle fuckers! this one is double the size of the usual update so i hope it makes up for how long it took me a little bit. From the looks of the poll this will probably be the series I focus on first!

also; I will add links at a later date! pls enjoy & lmk what u think!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 17.03.2019 // ↞ prev. || three || next ↠

Not for the first time in your stay on this planet, you found yourself once more overcome with awe at the sheer beauty of your surroundings.

Today was a day you’d been looking forward to ever since Seokjin had asked you if you’d like to tag along three days ago—today you finally ventured past the tall, looming obsidian walls that guarded the edge of the palace’s property. You were going into town! The fabled city that nestled below the incline upon which the palace sat, with markets, stalls, parks, and all the other good things you’d heard of from Namjoon and the other humans but hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet. You were beyond excited, quite literally bouncing down the path beside Seokjin. Contrary to what you might have expected, the male was surprisingly unbothered by your sudden hyperactivity. In fact, you suspected from the slight bounce in his step that he was barely restraining himself from skipping down the path with you.

“Where are we going first?” you couldn’t help yourself from asking Seokjin, not for the first time. Your arms were swinging and you felt a bit like a child but were too excited to really care.

Seokjin snorted as your hastened pace caused you to trip on a dark plum-coloured branch that had fallen onto the black stone path and blended in. His arm shot out with ease and stopped you from face-planting, a sheepish laugh tumbling from your throat in response.

“Well, I have a list of supplies I am to fetch. Normally a task like this would be assigned to someone in a lesser position, but since the event is so important it has fallen onto me. Additionally, it occurred to me that you hadn’t seen the town yet and might enjoy the opportunity to venture past the palace walls.”

“Aw, Seokjinnie~” you cooed immediately, your first instinct always to give in to your playful whims. You paused your skipping to latch onto the kelkie’s arm dramatically, nearly tripping again in the process. Was it your shoes? Or were you just incredibly uncoordinated today? “How kind of you, I can always trust you to take care of me!”

Seokjin let out a loud laugh at that, allowing you to cling for a moment before he peeled you off. “I know, I’m far too generous and considerate. Combined with my incredible good looks, it is a wonder I do not have suitors lining up for miles.”

You joined him in his laughter, bracing yourself on his arm. You didn’t bother adding to that since it was already funny enough as is, and in the following comfortable silence the male’s words from earlier caught up to you.

“Wait,” you turned to face the tall male, watching as his raven hair rustled in the breeze and patches of sunlight lit his skin in a golden glow. His dark eyes swept to meet yours, the light colouring them deep chocolate. You were thankful the walk so far had been one that was mostly under the cover of the foliage because you didn’t fancy the idea of being fried alive beneath the full force of the sun’s rays. “You’re going shopping for things for an event? An important event? What’s happening?”

Seokjin seemed surprised at your question. “You don’t know?” he queried, “Jimin didn’t tell you anything?”

At the mention of the male your heart simultaneously skipped a beat and dropped slightly. A surprising mix of a reaction, but one that occurred mostly because you hadn’t actually seen the male much at all since your last encounter in the gardens. Apart from glimpses caught in hallways or through windows, he proved to be as elusive as always. Something that tickled your competitive side about as much as it disappointed you. You just wanted to see the prospective alien love of your life, damn it.

“I haven’t really seen Jimin in a while…” you said, unaware of how your face was betraying your current state of perturb. Seokjin’s keen eyes caught every shift in your features, his lips pursing in concern and curiosity at the sudden drop in your mood. He waited a few moments to see if you were going to continue before he spoke.

“You are… a little hard to read,” he noted, bringing your gaze from the ground to his face. “What are you thinking, cheeky human?”

You frowned, considering whether it was worth telling Seokjin. A part of you wanted to keep your mouth shut, simply because you felt a bit like a fool thanks to your current train of thought, but the rest of you wanted desperately to let it all out and to talk to someone. You didn’t do well with bottling things up, and your philosophy was always more along the lines of the more communication the better anyway, so you ultimately decided you may as well spill your thoughts to the curious alien walking alongside you. Besides, he knew Jimin—perhaps he could offer some important insight.

You mulled over how to word what was running through your mind for a few moments before giving up and just attempting to go for it. “I… I just can’t help but wonder… You know, he seems busy, and I don’t see him much, but sometimes it’s like…”

Pausing to order your thoughts a little more, Seokjin waited patiently for you to continue. You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet, “It’s not me, is it? Is he really avoiding me? Does he hate me that much? I know I’m a little unbearable but still… that shit hurted.”

If Seokjin was perplexed at some of your speech habits he didn’t show it, instead gazing at you with a look that was somehow thoughtful and sympathetic despite the trickle of amusement you caught glimmering behind his eyes.

“I think,” he began, turning his gaze forward as he sorted his thoughts and the two of you continued down the path; you glimpsed something just beyond the trees as you waited for him to continue. “I think… you are something he hasn’t ever encountered before. I have not ever seen anyone interact with him the way you do, so I think that if he is avoiding you… it is because he is flustered.”

You felt your mouth drop slightly, forming a tiny ‘o’ shape. Seokjin continued, returning his gaze to yours; the warmth in his eyes helped to soothe the slight aches troubling your heart a little. “But besides that, the celebration that is coming—it is… incredibly important, probably the biggest one in over twenty sweeps—sorry, years. So it could also be that he is just busy. Jimin and I have received the biggest portion of work for this, since we are the King’s closest and most trusted advisors.”

Nodding, you took a moment to process all that. What he said made sense, and to his credit… actually served to mollify your worries a little. You felt a smile beginning to tug your lips once more, already over the brief stormy spell in your mood. Wow, Seokjin was a really good counsellor. No wonder he was one of the King’s best advisors, as he so often proclaimed.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you said sincerely, offering him a bright grin. He returned it and you allowed a moment before the curve to your lips turned sly. “Anyway… back to the important topic at hand… just what is this celebration that’s so big and important that the King’s right- and left-hand men are working so hard to organise it?”

Seokjin mirrored your look, and you knew in that instant that this shit-stirring bastard wasn’t going to spill a single drop to you. He cooed instead of an answer, reaching to ruffle your hair.

“You can wait and find out with the rest of the population,” he snickered at the petulant look on your face. “Don’t think you get any special privileges just because you are awfully endearing for a human.”

Accepting that you weren’t going to get any more out of him regarding the mysterious celebration, you instead latched onto the other part of the sentence. You batted your lashes, giving him a shit-stirring grin. “You think I’m endearing?”

Seokjin let out a loud groan, distracting you as you rounded a harsh bend in the path. “I should have known when they told me you were like me that they weren’t kidding,” he lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head dramatically. “I am sorry y/n, but this planet only has enough room for one Seokjin. I am going to have to dispose of you… imposter.”

You laughed loudly at that, playful banter one of the things that truly sustains you. You opened your mouth to shoot back an equally riveting response when your attention was suddenly captured by the sight in front of you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting wide. You missed Seokjin’s smug look at your current awestruck state.

You’d finally reached the town, and it was… beautiful.

Streams trickled alongside the path on either side, clear and crystalline and glimmering turquoise as they flowed between the edge of what you presumed to be a large, two-story homes built from smooth marble-like stone and the obsidian path. The road was a bit more worn as you entered the town, but still made for stunning visuals when paired with everything else. The area you were currently in appeared to be more of a residential one, the path leading to a large circular area in the middle of the section that branched off in main pathways in each direction. From those pathways more would split; short, curved stone that bridged the path to the front door of the homes over the stream, which acted as a moat of sorts around each structure. In the middle of the circle was a small water feature that had gorgeous water flora floating along the bottom pool, glistening prettily as the droplets of moisture caught the light.

“You are so easily impressed,” Seokjin mused, bringing your attention back to the current moment. The two of you had halted on the path right at the entrance to the town where the foliage ended and the buildings began. “It is as though you have never seen a residential section… what does it look like, on Earth?”

“Ugly,” you answered immediately, snorting at the shocked look that flitted across the male’s features. “I mean… some areas were pretty, but those kinds of areas are the ones that only richer people could afford. Most of the population couldn’t afford it, so they lived in places that are… less well-kept and structured.”

Seokjin seemed appalled at that, wide eyes flitting from you to the scene around you. “You mean to say that not everyone in your cities gets the same opportunity for housing?”

You nodded regretfully, Seokjin’s jaw dropping. “Most people live in decent places, but a lot of people live in housing that doesn’t have the main necessities, like clean water, or in a house that is falling apart because it is old. It’s… not great. It is better than it used to be, but there are still a lot of people who live like that—at least, there was, last time I was there. A lot of people can’t afford homes too, so they live on the street. Homeless.”

“That is preposterous!” Seokjin exclaimed, eyes alight with fury at the injustice present on your home planet—oh, if only he knew the half of it. “Everyone deserves the right to live in security! Does your ruler, your government not help them? Do they just leave them to suffer?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “I mean, a lot of people try and fix things but… humans have a long history of shitty actions and behaviours that is hard to undo. I mean, it’s part of why the environment and nature is so shot to hell. Humans ruined it.”

The male seemed to pick up how sad you were about that fact in particular, as he stepped forward and looped your arm with his.

“I do not understand the rest of your species,” he said decisively, beginning to move the two of you further into the town. “But I am glad that it was you who happened to come crashing down into our orchards. I think we have been lucky in only getting to meet the best humans.”

You let out a laugh at that, swinging your arms cheerfully. “True! And dude, even I don’t understand humans. It’s impossible.”

That brought a hearty chuckle from the male, and the two of you delved into another conversation as he led you further into the city and pointed everything out to you as you moved by it.

As the morning passed and you spent it following Seokjin around as he went to gather everything he had on the sneaky list he never let you fully glimpse, you began to grow familiar with the market portion of the town. Stalls upon stalls set up for trade, bigger boutiques and kiosks nestled into small buildings that provided shelter from the sweltering sun. While you moved through the slight crowd and cheerful chatter that filled the air, many things caught your eye, and Seokjin actually ended up purchasing a dress for you—not because you asked him to, but because he saw it and proclaimed quite loudly that it would suit you so well it was “practically made for you”. The vendor was a sweet elderly kelkie with what looked to be a tattoo curling up her neck and peeking over the edge of her jaw. When she caught you looking at it she smiled in amusement, but her attention was quickly taken by an elder male that sidled up to her with a fond look, running his hand across her shoulder and speaking to her in the native tongue you still had no idea how to understand. To your complete and utter curiosity, you noted that he had a matching tattoo in the exact same place in the exact same style. You knew better than to ask or comment on it, but couldn’t help but think to yourself how sweet that was. Ah, love. Marvellous to behold, truly.

You tailed after Seokjin like an awestruck little duckling, having to grasp the end of his shirt so you didn’t get lost. Despite how many stores and stalls he visited, the pile in his arms wasn’t that big. You supposed a lot of the things he had gone for were things that would need to be ordered and delivered to the palace for the mystery celebration. It was really burning you alive, not knowing what was going on, but you supposed that if even the people inhabiting the town by the palace didn’t know then you could bear to wait a little longer. It wasn’t like you were that left out of the loop.

As Seokjin neared the end of his list, you found yourself more than a little saddened that your trip was soon to come to an end. This was the first time you’d really been out of the palace and in all honesty, you thought you were in love with the town and the sweet townspeople who shot you bright smiles despite the fact you were very obviously not even from their planet. You knew as soon as you returned to your room in the palace that you were going to feel a sense of loss and emptiness. Now that you’ve tasted freedom, could you go back to what you had before? That sounded a bit dramatic, but all you meant was would you be able to resist the urge to sneak out every so often?

The answer was a very obvious no, and while you didn’t care that you were sneaking out you were a little regretful in advance for the scoldings you were going to get. Inevitable, you supposed. Couldn’t be helped.

A few of the stalls you’d passed had piqued your interest a little, but none so much that you had the urge to stop Seokjin and investigate. You were very much aware this was more of a sight-seeing trip than anything—hell, you didn’t even have any of whatever currency the Kelkie used. Actually, you take that back a little. You’d found out today that a lot of stalls aren’t that strict on the currency. Many will settle for a trade. The thing is, you didn’t think you had anything of worth to trade. Sad times in the y/n kingdom, it seemed.

Things changed when you began on your way out of the market area though, as you turned with Seokjin and caught sight of something glimmering in your peripheral. You halted on the spot, head whipping and a loud gasp tearing from your lips. Was that… jewellery? Seokjin, who had halted when you did, seemed amused that the thing that had finally caught your attention after a morning of wandering was sparkly metals and jewels.

You’d planned on just staring at the door to the boutique, and jumped when Seokjin spoke, his voice closer than you’d anticipated.

“You want to go have a look?” he queried, grinning when you turned to him with wide eyes shining hopefully. “Alright, let us go.”

You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face, eager to follow the tall male into the boutique and keep up the duckling act from earlier. The outside was a sleek mix of black, navy and white marble-like stone, a sign of similar material placed by the door and engraved, with the letters painted pretty silver to stand out against the inky colour of the backing. You couldn’t read it, of course, but were happy to go and investigate nonetheless. Discoveries were more exciting when you had less clues as to what they were!

A soft tinkle rang above you as the two of you entered, the inside of the store painted a smooth, deep teal colour on some walls and stark pearl on others. There were rows of jewellery along the walls and on the short aisles in the middle of the room, but some of them looks peculiarly shaped and you weren’t sure what they were for… until you glanced one in particular with a barbell-like sculpt and realised belatedly that this was both a jewellery and piercing boutique. Your surprise must have shown on your face because Seokjin ended up laughing softly from beside you.

You were startled from your keen observations of the pretty jewels by a low voice from deeper into the store. Jumping in fright, your gaze whipped up; further towards the back there was a counter, more jewellery displayed on shelves beneath, and a tall Kelkie male who possessed broad shoulders, deep golden skin and a cheery smile. He was speaking in the language native to Kilkhea, if the familiar clicks and rolling sounds were anything to go by, and his gaze was flicking between you and Seokjin. He seemed pleased to see the advisor, marks across his cheeks and arms flushed calm blue.

To your surprise, in your curious observation of his features you found he had a number of piercings. Two jewels embedded in the skin under the outer edge of each eye, large, thick silvery hoops in his ears and a piercing just below the plump flesh of his bottom lip, the metal supporting a thin charm that dangled prettily against his chin as he talked.

The conversation went right over your head as Seokjin let out a laugh and responded in kind, patting your shoulder as he said something that was no doubt about you.

You let your gaze wonder as they conversed, brought back to the present when Seokjin suddenly addressed you.

“y/n, this is Hyunwoo,” Seokjin said, smiling big. “He is the town’s main jeweller and responsible for clan piercings.”

The male said something suddenly, a teasing lilt to his voice, and the Kelkie beside you snorted. “He says to call him Shownu since that is what everyone calls him anyway.”

The male nodded, satisfied, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “It’s nice to meet you, Shownu! I’m y/n.”

Seokjin translated for you, and Shownu nodded at you once more with a smile. The raven-haired male beside you turned to face you in question.

“Does your clan participate in piercings?” he queried, tilting his head. “Do humans do something similar to this? You seemed like you recognised some of these…”

“Yeah, humans do it,” you affirmed, allowing your gaze to sweep over the contents of the shop before returning to Seokjin. “But I’m not sure what you mean… my clan? Do you mean my family?”

The male nodded, taking initiative to fill you in further at the sight of your confused expression. “It is tradition here for some clans—some families—to get a certain set of jewelleries and piercings on their twenty-fourth birthday. Shownu was the one who did mine— my clan does not have many interesting ones, save for the, uh… ears, and here…”

You weren’t sure what you had expected him to show you, but it certainly hadn’t been his tongue. He slipped it past his lips, and you nearly fell over in shock as you registered the sight of the pearlescent metal sitting in the middle of the flushed muscle. What the hell—had that been there the whole time?! And you didn’t even know?!

He returned his tongue back to its place, letting out a loud laugh at your shaken expression. “It was funny to show the other humans that too,” he admitted, incredibly amused. “For some reason, you never expect it.”

“It’s probably because you don’t look like the type of person who would get it back on Earth,” you said, grinning. “We don’t really get them to continue tradition, a lot of people get them just because they want them or think they’re pretty.”

Seokjin nodded, “Ah, that is true of some people here too. Do you have any, y/n?”

You nodded, pulling your hair back to show him the rings and studs in your ears. “I always wanted to get ones in other places, but I was a little scared… plus I never got the time to get them on earth, and I’m not about to look for reputable piercers in the back rooms of interspace stations.”

The Kelkie snorted at that, peering curiously at your ears and nodding in approval at what he observed. Shownu’s eyes seemed to light up as he caught sight of your bejewelled ears, beckoning you closer so he could have a look. You moved over without complaint, leaning so he could inspect the metal and jewels easier. You could hear him muttering to himself every so often, fingers softly prodding and nudging as his marked shifted shades of blue.

“Understandable,” Seokjin said, amusement curling in his tone. “But if you wanted them… why not get one here? There are many arrays to choose from.”

You fixed him with a pondering look, chewing your lip. “Would that even be okay?” you asked, worried about overstepping your bounds as a foreigner—as an alien on this planet. “Aren’t they important to you and other kelkie?”

Seokjin shrugged. “They are a rite of passage, but they are not especially meaningful aside from that. Often, they are just a marker of adulthood, and which clan you belong to. Still, some Kelkie pierce as they like. You’re human, so you are not really bound to any of our traditions. I think if you chose something, the clan that possesses that piercing would probably feel honoured you chose it.”

You hummed, mulling that over. His words soothed your worries somewhat, and as you turned your gaze over the jewels and pieces before you, your mind filtered back to the one you’d noticed earlier. The barbell, commonly used for navel piercings… something in your gut urged you towards that, and as someone that more often than not followed her instincts above all else, you were inclined to choose it.

“Do you… are there any, for here?” you queried, lifting your shirt and pointing above your bellybutton. Seokjin tilted his head, something curious yet unreadable curling in his gaze. Shownu grinned, shifting in excitement as he moved to grab a box from the top shelf behind him, bringing it back before you. Opening it, you were exposed to a soft cushion displaying a number of beautiful, intricate barbells with charms and jewels. You couldn’t help your gasp.

“Your…?” Seokjin said something in his mother tongue that you had no idea how to interpret but hazarded a guess as to what he meant. “Are you going to get it? We have time.”

“We call it a bellybutton,” you informed him, and he nodded in understanding with the slightest bit of perplexment, possibly at the name itself. Excitement began to curl within you at the possibility of finally getting to do this after hoping for it all your teen years, but you came crashing back to the present as you remembered part of why you hadn’t done it before.

“Ah, but I don’t have any money,” you said, taking a step from the counter and shooting Shownu an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I forgot.”

Shownu shook his head, giving you a kind smile. Seokjin said something to him, receiving a rapid response and a smile. He turned back to you grinning brightly.

“He says that he is happy to trade in the stead of currency.”

You could feel you face lit up, before you realised your predicament in that sense as well. You sighed, “I don’t have anything to—wait!”

Your sudden exclamation had both males straightening, looking on curiously. You reached under the material of your shirt, with a little difficulty thanks to the high neckline, and fished around until you found what you were looking for and unclasped the two chains that found their way into your grasp. Shownu’s eyes lit up as you pulled the necklaces from your shirt, both gold and decorated with a different jewelled charm each. They weren’t really anything special, just things you’d once gotten from a prospective suitor and thought were pretty enough to keep.

The Kelkie chattered excitedly as he took them into his hold, waving his free hand at Seokjin as he inspected them eagerly. You wondered if he was so interested because almost all of the jewellery Kelkie had was of variations of silvery metal.

“He says this is more than enough for just the piercing—is there anything else you want while we’re here?” Seokjin translated, seeming proud of you in the way you presumed a mother would be of a child who was making their first purchase.

Excited, you let your gaze wander and your mind run. Was there anything you wanted in particular? You didn’t really feel any extra need for jewellery now that you were getting one in your navel, but you didn’t want to waste the opportunity…

Your pondering came to an abrupt end when you caught sight of something to the side, something that almost seemed to glow in a bid to catch your attention. You gasped softly, moving over to inspect it closer.

It was a necklace, the chain consisting of thickly woven silver links, intertwined with a molten-grey metal you didn’t think you’d seen yet. The silver was almost pearlescent, resembling mother of pearl more than it did actual silver from your home planet, but was firm beneath your touch. The thick chain was connected by a single large hoop of a slightly cooler silver, which was engraved lightly with patterns and swirls. It was stunning, magnetising, and upon looking at it, it immediately reminded you of a certain someone.

“Wow,” you said, unable to stop your words from flowing. “This would look beautiful on Jimin…”

Ignoring Seokjin’s look of surprise, you turned to Shownu and gestured sheepishly. You expected this to be out of the price range for the trade, but figured you may as well ask. “Would this be too much…?”

Snapping out of his stupor with a strange glint in his eye and an amused curl to his tone, Seokjin relayed your question to the jeweller. Shownu instantly shook his head, offering you a smile. You weren’t sure of the answer he gave you until the Kelkie by you translated once again.

“No, he says that meets it perfectly.”

Shownu hurried to come and grab it for you, holding it gingerly as he came to place it into a small, cushioned case made of a stone that, oddly-enough, reminded you of some sort of jade. Surprised that everything was coming together so easily for you, you couldn’t stop the big dumb grin from tugging your lips.

“You know, with a gift like that, one might get the wrong idea,” Seokjin was teasing you, you knew it, but still you couldn’t help but rise to the bait.

“What wrong idea? I’m clearly trying to woo him!” you shot back, your response eliciting a cackle from the tall Kelkie. Shownu spared the two of you a fond smile as he finished tucking away the necklace, pushing it towards you in its closed case and saying something to Seokjin.

The male brightened, turning to you with a grin as you took the case into your hold, relishing the comforting weight. “Well, that will have to wait for now, cheeky human. You have a… a belly… bellybottom to pierce.”

You burst into laughter at Seokjin’s slip up, hastily going to correct him as Shownu led the two of you to a room towards the back that you hadn’t even noticed until then. The male’s cheeks heated but he took the embarrassment graciously, laughing with you as you continued snorting and prepared for the piercing.

You definitely weren’t letting go of that one any time soon.

x x x x x x x

As you’d expected, your return to the palace had brought on a certain sense of emptiness after experiencing what was beyond the walls. It had been a few days now, and although you wanted to get out you hadn’t really wanted to venture into town without an escort when you had no money and couldn’t speak the language. So to settle somewhat, you’d slipped past poor Jongin and Jongdae again and snuck to a certain part of the gardens you’d discovered a while ago. You really ought to make them something for their troubles—you were sure their life was much more stress-free before you rocked up.

You liked this little spot; it was nestled in one of the corners of the garden that followed the wall by the back of the palace, not too far from the kitchens now that you actually thought about it. Perhaps that added to the charm. Even so, without taking its alluring closeness to a food source into consideration, the spot had its own charms. The corner itself consisted of thick hedges with deep blue leaves and stunning magenta and cream flowers, the obsidian wall that marked the end of palace property looming close behind it. The earth was soft and plush beneath your feet, soil rich and no doubt part of the reason the main tree that had grown there had grown to be so tall and thick in diameter. The wood was peculiar, in that it was incredibly supple yet completely sturdy at the same time, and it grew in curls and curves. This meant that it was an absolutely ideal tree for climbing, but you didn’t quite have the energy for that today. You were a bit bummed, and it wasn’t entirely because you missed the town.

You had a feeling Jimin was avoiding you again.

Well, either that or he was so ridiculously busy that he had no time for anything but sleeping eating and work. You’d been trying to track him and chase him down for days to give him the present you got for him at Shownu’s shop, but to his credit he was very hard to track. You pulled out all the stops you could think of and yet here you were, no closer to catching him and instead sulking about your failure beneath a tree as you laid sprawled across the ground. You probably looked as pathetic as you felt.

You let out a sigh, patting your stomach absent-mindedly and brushing your finger over the slight bump beneath the silky material of your shirt. You’d gotten the piercing expecting to get a lot of pain and limiting instructions afterwards, but to your complete and utter surprise it was quite the opposite. After piercing you, Shownu had cleansed the site with a teal-coloured liquid that shimmered green beneath the light. It stung for the barest of moments before every single sensation of pain disappeared completely. You felt the flesh tingle and watched, wide-eyed, as it appeared to heal before your eyes. Kelkie medicine was truly something else, and you were forever thankful that you’d crash landed on this planet of all possible planets.

Shownu had simply told you to be extra mindful of it for the next week but that after that, it would be completely fine. The mixture he used sped up the healing process almost entirely, something you could barely wrap your head around, and meant that you didn’t have to face a lot of the possible complications you knew could come with these sorts of things. You’d thanked him profusely, immensely pleased with how good the piercing looked, especially with the jewellery you’d chosen, and had made sure Seokjin told him how much you liked it and appreciated it. Seeing how pleased Shownu was at your words made Seokjin’s sassy eyerolls worth it.

Back to the source of your current lamentation, you’d left the parlour with a new piercing and a pretty necklace in a jade giftbox—a necklace you had still been unable to give to the person it was meant for.

Another sigh escaped you, eyes staring absently into the foliage above. Ah, nothing like becoming one with nature and disassociating as you attempted to sort through your thoughts and feelings. A classic move in your emotional organisation repertoire.

You’d come here for solitude, but despite that… you were actually feeling a bit lonely. Was it possible to want to be alone and around people at the same time? Because you were feeling that. Perhaps it was the slightly bummed turn your thoughts had taken that had you feeling this way. You closed your eyes, trying to clear your mind and start again so you felt less crummy. You didn’t get very far before something interrupted your concentration and scared you shitless.

“Connecting to a higher power, are we?”

You yelped loudly, eyes flying open and body lurching away from the source of the noise— a snickering Min Yoongi of course. You glared at the offending male, tempted to roll away and turn your back to him like a child.

“And what if I am?” you ask snidely, crossing your arms. “Shouldn’t you leave—I thought they didn’t allow creatures of the night into holy places, you little gremlin.”

Yoongi cackled at that, thoroughly amused, and took the invitation you most definitely didn’t give to sit beside you, leaning back against the thick trunk of the tree. Still, despite what the pout on your face might have him believe, you shuffled over to give him more room. The two of you sat in comfortable, amicable silence as his chuckles gradually calmed down, soaking in the serenity that came with such a beautiful segment of nature like the one that surrounded you now.

“So,” he began after a while, voice low above you. You didn’t bother looking to meet his eyes, it would have been too much of a struggle with the angle you were at. “What’s got you all mopey, peach cheeks?”

You groaned, fighting the urge to smack the male as he snickered softly at your expense. Yoongi looked cool and chic at first glance, but really that was just a front and he was just a goblin. Pouty whiny baby. He was fun to tease but a little too good at teasing you back, if anyone asked you. Well… perhaps that was a bit of a fib. You liked the playful banter he provided, and the fact he gave it back as good as he got. Kept you on your toes, you know?

“My prospective alien boyfriend is avoiding me,” you said, amping up the exaggeration colouring your tone because you knew he’d appreciate the humour in it. He did, letting out a snort.

“What’s new?” he snipped, before letting out a yelp as you smacked him on the thigh closest to you. “Ow! Alright sorry I didn’t mean it. Why is he avoiding you?”

“I don’t knooooooooooow,” you moaned pitifully, thrashing your arms a little like a toddler. “I’m just trying to give him this damn present I got him but he keeps turning tail and running every time he sees me, and I don’t even know if his cheeks are red because he’s blushing or because he’s exhausted from running away from me.”

You risked a glance upwards, and to his credit, Yoongi looked like he was trying very hard to contain the laughter attempting to climb his throat.

“What did you get him?” he asked after schooling himself a little, seemingly unable to contain his curiosity. You huffed, averting your eyes as you mumbled your answer.

“… a necklace.”

As expected, Yoongi let out a snort; it was as though you could feel him rolling his eyes. “Geez, careful y/n, give him a gift like that and he might think you like him or something.”

You sent him your best deadpan look, contorting your neck just to pin him with it face-on. He seemed entirely too amused with himself and it kind of really made you want to smack him. You didn’t even need to respond—you were pretty sure that not only Jimin but probably half the palace knew that you liked him by now. You blanched mentally for a moment—you hadn’t really realised it until now, but somewhere along the line in your stay here you’d progressed from simply finding Jimin attractive and voicing it to actually… liking him. Like, like-liking him. Oh god, was this a crush? Your stomach fluttered at the mere mention of his name, your heart jumped whenever he looked your way—you’d even gone and bought him jewellery without so much as a second thought.

Oh, this…. You were whipped.

Choosing to ignore that startling revelation for a moment, you released your neck from its twisted position and returned to staring mournfully at the foliage above you.

“Not that it matters, anyway,” you couldn’t help the sigh that huffed past your lips. “I can’t even find him to give him the damn thing in the first place.”

At this, Yoongi was silent for a few moments—you took the opportunity to bask in the moment a bit, taking note of the different sounds of nature that filtered through the air to brush your ears. Soft chirps from the small, violet-feathered, birdlike creatures that nested in the nooks and niches hidden in the curling wood of the tree’s branches and trunk; the faint rustling of the leaves and the soft creak of the thick, winding limbs as they swayed with the breeze. The patches of sunlight that managed to reach your form beneath the canopy were warm as they soaked your skin, but thankfully not unbearably so in such small doses. You didn’t doubt that if you weren’t mostly under the shade you’d feel like an overcooked meal by now, though.

“Well…” The sound of the male’s slow drawl brought your attention back to the conversation at hand as he began to speak, “Who says you have to give it to him in person? You could always leave it somewhere for him.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s the coward’s way out,” you grumbled, crossing one leg over the other to match your arms. “How would he know it’s from me?”

Snorting at your apparent view on gift-giving and how it should be done, Yoongi leans over to peer at you, albeit upside down. “Uh, leave a note? I’m sorry, I forgot you lost most of your brain cells when you crashed here. I’ll try and be a little bit more considerate.”

Whining, you smacked him on the leg—apparently the response he was expecting since he burst into laughter as soon as you did it.

“Okay yeah, you’re not wrong about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t write or even read k-kelk—kelkoe? Whatever it is people speak here.”

You peered back in time to catch Yoongi’s nonchalant shrug. “Namjoon knows a little, why not just ask him to help?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words died on your tongue as you allowed yourself to consider it for a moment. That… wasn’t such a bad idea, actually. Plus, Namjoon might tease you a little but at least he wouldn’t be a little gremlin about it like Yoongi or Taehyung.

“… Alright, perhaps that’s not a bad idea…” you admitted, begrudgingly. Yoongi’s featured brightened and you were witness to a sudden shit-eating, gummy grin.

“Admit it, I’m a genius,” he boasted, leaning over you to stare at you smugly. You groaned but couldn’t keep the laugh that followed from escaping.

“Never!” you refuted, reaching to smack his thigh once more. “Stay humble, if your head gets too big the few brain cells you have will get lost.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, rubbing his thigh where you got him; it wasn’t a hard hit at all but you managed to get him in one of the areas where the sensation lingered a bit. “Oh, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

A retort already bubbling up your throat, you sat up so you could argue a bit better. Yoongi resembled a smug cat as the two of you bickered, unaware of the eyes that watched from beyond the shrubbery, boring into you from one of the palace rooms that peered over the gardens.

x x x x x

Jimin shouldn’t be as angry as he was.

Really, he had no right. There was nothing tying him to you, or you to him—nothing that staked any sort of claim over you on his behalf. Based on this, even if he found you attractive, he should not have been feeling what he did, to the degree that he did.

Catching sight of you and one of the humans from the Queen’s crew, Yoongi, wasn’t something he had expected to spark a raging inferno of emotions within him. And yet, the second he glimpsed the scene in the far corner of the gardens, he’d been almost over-encumbered with too many feelings to name; yet one in particular was sure to rear its head and make itself known.

Jimin refused to accept that the sight of you with Yoongi had made him jealous.

Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. Ever since you’d arrived here everything had been out of whack for him—nothing had gone as it should, as it was expected, as it always had for years before your arrival. You were a threat to the knowledge he thought he had of his world and way of life—the knowledge he thought he had of himself. Jimin knew that in years past he had proven himself to be a Kelkie of exceptional control, yet the second you drew too close to him, the second your eyes met his or your alluring scent brushed his nose, he felt the limbs hidden in his back stirring to life and fighting to be free like he was some inexperienced fledgling. With your presence in the palace he was living on his toes, and the only way he’d managed to save face thus far was because he’d taken to doing his best to avoid you—something that while achieved its purpose had him feeling bittersweet. Despite the barest relief he felt, he actually found that he missed you. He couldn’t believe the audacity of his heart that it longed for you even after all the trouble you’d given him so far.

At first he had tried avoiding you simply to save himself from acting in an embarrassing manner, but lately it had been for a somewhat different reason. He could sense it lingering in the air that you moved through, could catch the new sweet undertone to your scent as it touched his senses—he didn’t know much about the human cycle apart from what the Queen had once told him, but he could tell—was acutely aware— that you were at the peak of yours. You had been close a few days ago, and he had no doubt that today you were at the height of your fertility; and he hated that he knew that, that he was so finely attuned to you in a way he never had been to anyone else. The pheromones you didn’t even seem to realise you were emitting permeated the air wherever you ventured, and shamefully even the sight of you through the window had a knot of longing forming in the pit of his abdomen. It was even more out of hand than usual with the state your body was in and he didn’t think he would last very long at all if stuck in the same room as you.

Which, incidentally, is exactly what he would be tonight.

The kitchen staff had thrown together a mock-up run of the dishes and foods that they were considering for the celebration coming, and Seokjin had insisted that everyone gather at once to try them—although he hadn’t gotten around to telling everyone yet. Jimin suspected that the male missed the nights where everyone would dine together, including the King and Queen. Knowing that, he hadn’t had the heart to refuse him, even when he realised this meant he would be stuck dining a few feet away from the human that had been troubling him so much lately.

Truly, he was at war with himself—he enjoyed your presence, more than expected, but he was also incredibly conflicted. He wasn’t against having fun and the odd passionate tryst, but with you… it felt like he longed for more than that. Which, frankly, alarmed him greatly—the only person he should be feeling that way towards is his Fated One. So, what would happen if he indulged himself in you and then in the next sweep received his Fate Mark and with it the person he was to spend the rest of his life with? Would he want them? Would he want you? The prospect of such a situation was absolutely terrifying to him, and he didn’t know how to sort through the mess of emotions and thoughts it spawned within him.

He didn’t know what to do with the way you made him feel, yet each time he saw you he grew a little weaker in his resistance to you. Why was it that the heavens had decided to curse him so?

His footsteps were a little heavier than usual as he stomped down the hall that housed his rooms, eager for a moment of reprieve before he had to start preparing himself mentally for dinner. It had been only this morning that he caught sight of you and Yoongi in the gardens, yet the mood it had thrown him into had persisted for the rest of the day as he did his duties. The ugly, icky feeling it incurred within him had clung to his insides ever since—Jimin never had liked the sensation of jealousy, the few times he’d experienced it in his life, and the same proved true now. He hated it, yet could not stop its presence at the thought of you with someone else. He shouldn’t be bothered—you were human, shouldn’t he be pleased at the prospect of you being with another human? Yet his heart clenched painfully in protest at the thought, stomach dropping. Against his better judgement, he didn’t like the idea at all.

He felt a momentary sensation of calm and relaxation wash over him as he stepped through the doorway into his room, shoulders releasing the tension they carried along the walk there. The sensation proved to be fleeting as he recalled suddenly that Yoongi would be at the dinner along with you and the other humans, and suddenly he was tense and stressed all over again. A large sigh huffed past his lips, eyes closing as he scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair back a little. God, he kind of wanted to nap if only to escape the stress for a few moments.

Allowing his eyes to slide open, he surveyed the contents of his room, attempting to avoid the area with his bed lest he be tempted. Surprise filtered across his features as he caught sight of something amiss, something new that he certainly hadn’t left on his desk before leaving earlier. Curious and apprehensive all at once, he approached the soft green box with what appeared to be a note tucked neatly beneath it. Tentatively, he took the box into his hands, the stone cool to the touch and decently heavy, and retrieved the note. He was never sure whether to read or open things first, but this time he opted to inspect the paper.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he opened it, but it hadn’t been a note written in messy scrawl that looked like it belonged to a fledgling. It was in his language, but he had a suspicion that the person writing it wasn’t exactly familiar with it. Still, he read it, and with each word he took in he felt surprise tickle his ribs and his heart stutter excitedly. The person had forgotten to sign their name but even without it Jimin had a strong suspicion as to who had left him this gift.

Unable to stop himself from opening the box now that he knew it was indeed a gift for him, he placed the note down and took great care in lifting the lid. Inside, sitting neatly upon plush cushioning that worked well to contrast with the metal of the piece it held, was a necklace. He felt his lips part as he took it in, slightly mesmerised, fingers of his free hand brushing gently over the silver and black chain and the large hoop that connected it. Even without the knowledge that it was a gift, most likely from a certain someone, he instantly liked it. It was just his style, and the fact that they’d known…

He placed the box down, moving the hand over his heart as he felt it skip a beat once more. Once more, it seemed you were proving to be more trouble than he was capable of handling.

What on Kilkhea was he going to do?

x x x x x x x

When Seokjin had told you that there would be a small feast of sorts tonight and that pretty much everyone you knew would be attending, you hadn’t bothered attempting to hide your excitement at all. It had everything you loved. Food? Check. Your friends? Check. A fun family atmosphere? Check. Food? Check, check. You were almost bouncing off the walls before Taehyung laughed at you for it and you had to track him down to teach him a lesson. Seokjin had said that the food being served was all trials for the celebration that was coming, and that meant that given your food was normally good quality, this food was likely to be god-tier. You were almost drooling you were so damn excited.

Your renewed energy at the knowledge you were going to be fed well tonight meant that you were a little bit more unbearable than usual as you hung around the other humans, and by the time dinner actually rolled around you were sure Hoseok was ready to actually lay hands on you and choke you out. It was a recent development, since he’d actually joined you in your hyperactivity initially. You’d ended up outlasting him with your energy though, something that Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung found incredibly hilarious, and as soon as he was no longer in on your shenanigans he seemed to grow tired of them very quickly. As you all entered the small dining room where you’d be eating tonight you saw him beeline for the seat furthest away from you and couldn’t help but laugh. Did he think that would stop you? He really didn’t give you enough credit.

To your delight, even the guards you’d become so friendly with—Jongdae and Jongin as you recalled—had been allowed to sit in. The look they’d shared when they caught sight of you almost had you in stitches—especially since they were still under orders from Jimin to be keeping an eye on you and you’d slipped out of their watch earlier in the morning to spend the rest of the day free.

“Aren’t you two meant to be watching her?” Joy asked, having arrived at the same time they did and bearing witness to the fact it was without you in tow. She was more amused than anything, knowing firsthand how crafty you were, but still the two of them sputtered for an excuse.

“She—she is just so slippery!” Jongin burst, eyes wide and marks flaring a sheepish peach. “Every time we think she will cooperate, we turn our backs for a single second and when we look back she is gone!”

“And she tricks us,” Jongdae’s voice came out in a whine, pointing his finger at you accusingly. You smiled at him. “She leaves sweets and treats to distract us and escapes in our moment of weakness.”

You couldn’t hide your big, shit-eating grin because honestly you found the whole thing really funny—despite the fact you felt a little bad for deceiving them—and were having a riot listening to them talk.

“They’re gifts,” you said, no effort at all put towards sounding even remotely convincing. “Sometimes you look hungry so I leave things for you to eat, like a good friend.”

The two guards sputtered and you could hear Taehyung choking on a laugh behind you, snickering to Namjoon. Joy rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile tugging her lips, before she stepped in and urged everyone to take a seat since the food would be coming soon.

It didn’t take you long to notice that Seokjin and Jimin hadn’t arrived yet—oh the shock of excitement that bolted through you when you realised you’d finally see him—but almost as soon as you took note of that there were two familiar figures entering through the double doors and Taehyung was cheering.

“Yes! Just in time for the food to arrive—hurry and sit down we’re all hungry!”

You laughed, Yoongi snickering softly from beside you. Taehyung seemed to be right; as soon as Jimin and Seokjin entered from one door the kitchen staff entered from the other. The two hurried and took their seats, Seokjin across from you and Jimin next to him. You tried not to stare, you really did, but he just looked so good and it had been so long since you’d seen him—you kind of wanted to sob at how attractive he was. He’d donned a deep, deep purple set of silken clothes today, and when combined with his raven hair, the dangly silver earrings hanging from his lobes, the chains around his wrists and the rings sitting firmly and contrasting against golden skin on his fingers… it was a knockout look. Unable to help it, your gaze strayed momentarily to his neck on a curious whim—you wished the spike of disappointment within you wasn’t quite as prominent as it was. He wasn’t wearing it… that was fine. You hadn’t expected him to, really. Perhaps he just hadn’t gone to his room yet—

No, it was better if you didn’t think too hard about it. It was out of your hands now, you’d done your part in leaving it for him. What he did with it… technically didn’t concern you. You ignored the slight throb your heart gave and turned to the plates being placed along the table.

As the food was served there was inevitable chatter that followed, and you were surprisingly caught up with laughing at Seokjin and Yoongi, and occasionally Jongin, who was unfortunate enough to be seated on your other side and kept getting startled into dropping his food whenever you moved too quickly. Had you really traumatised them so much with your fleeing escapades?

Your natural inclination was to look at Jimin for the duration of the dinner, and you did look at him a fair bit, but for some reason tonight felt… different. It didn’t take long for you to notice that he was sitting stiffly in his seat, entire body tense, and each chew was accented with a clenched jaw that honestly had your stupid heart skipping a beat. Fuck, he was even hotter than usual. The nerve? The audacity? Right here in front of your… what was that on your plate, it looked to be a salad of sorts…?

Despite how your gaze was naturally drawn to the raven-haired male, every time you glanced towards him your attention was quickly drawn away by Yoongi or one of the others. And the second you turned from him, you could have sworn you felt eyes boring into your form with alarming intensity. You didn’t ever catch him, he was always looking back to his plate or at someone else when you turned back, but the butterflies in your stomach and your gut feeling told you that the stare belonged to him. The thought excited you, but you were also confused. His usual response to your presence was fluster and embarrassment, sometimes he was even a little grumpy. You didn’t know what changed, but something had, and you were eager to poke and prod and find out exactly what had caused his behaviour to shift ever so slightly.

You felt the stare intensify whenever you leant closer to Yoongi, or the guard beside you. The more you experimented throughout dinner, the tenser Jimin seemed to become. You caught Seokjin shooting him looks that seemed to be a combination of concerned, knowing and amused, but he never voiced his concern out loud. He cracked a few jokes that had Jimin’s lips twitching into a slight smile at several points throughout the meal, but his features consistently fell back into their tense default.

By the time the meal was over and people began cleaning dishes up and filtering out of the room, you were absolutely itching to pounce on Jimin and resume your usual antics of annoying and flustering the hell out of him. You hadn’t seen him in a while, so the urge had built up and you were keen to make up for lost time. A part of you protested softly, the same part that stung a little more at each little sign of rejection he seemed to display, but it was easily silenced

You had a feeling that Jimin was going to try and make a run for it, and your suspicions were confirmed when not even a minute after he helped stack the plates nearest him, he was standing from his chair and bowing slightly to the table.

“Thank you very much for the meal,” he directed this to the staff, offering those that had come over a soft smile. You cursed the small morsel of jealousy that wormed its way into existence at that. “I think this line-up will work well for the event. Perhaps one or two more fruit dishes? They seem to be a favourite.”

The staff nodded eagerly, taking in his advice, and he offered them another smile before he turned on his heel and uttered that he was going to retire for the night. You could see how tensed the muscles in his back were as he walked away, posture stiff and straight. By the time you realised he was about to get away and you launched from your seat, he was already moving through the doorway. You had to act fast!

“Thank you for the meal, it was delicious—as usual!” you burst, grinning widely. The kitchen staff, well-acquainted with you by now, rolled their eyes fondly at your next words. “I will give you a full written report of my thoughts and bring it later, thank you!”

With that you ruffled Jongin and Yoongi’s hair, and then you bolted from the table, only nearly tripping once. You could hear Seokjin cracking a joke at your expense as you left but for once, ignored it. It pained you to do so, but you had a bigger objective in mind right now.

Quicker on your feet than you anticipated, you zipped through the open doorway and burst into the darkened hallway just in time to catch sight of Jimin while he was still barely visible. The lights hadn’t turned on in this hall yet, and you made sure to watch a little where you were going so that you didn’t fall flat on your face in front of your apparent crush.

You were certain he heard you coming, but just in case he didn’t you decided to announce your presence very loudly. “Jimin! Wait up, peach cheeks!”

Visibility wasn’t great in the hallway, yet you still managed to catch it as the male stiffened and halted for a moment, apparently surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t heard you coming?

When the male turned to face you, you felt your heart stutter before skipping several beats and setting off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. His jaw was clenched once more, muscles along his throat shifting as he turned his head, and his marks glowed deep rosy red—but what had your knees wobbling slightly as you ran up to him was his eyes, dark and molten and absolutely boring into you from where he stood. His tongue darted to wet his lips before he spoke, a motion you couldn’t help but trace with your eyes.

“Do you need something, pesky human?” he inquired without any real bite, and you hated that even a nickname as dumb as that had your heart leaping when paired with the velvet tone of his voice. God, you’d really starved in the days he hadn’t been around, huh.

“Absolutely,” you answered, face straight save for the twitch of your lips. “It’s something you can help me with, actually.”

Jimin tilted his head, lids lowering ever so slightly as he held your gaze. You nearly stuttered at the way it made your stomach dip. “Oh? And what is that?”

“I’m very desperately in need.” You stepped closer, just barely noticing him stiffen further. You felt your grin spread across your features, unable to contain it any longer as you leant forward, barely a foot from his face, and poked his side softly. You felt a little bit of shame at what you were about to say but pushed it away—go big or go home. “Very desperately in need of you, Mr Jimin.”

There was a beat of silence as the kelkie registered what you said, before shifted into a reaction. Except, it wasn’t anything like the pink-cheeked flustered reaction you expected.

You had barely a moment to catch the shift in his gaze, the smoulder of new fire behind his eyes, before he was stepping forward suddenly, his hands moving so fast you almost didn’t see where they went until you felt them grip your hips. A gasp escaped you as you were moved backwards quicker than you could keep up with and your back pressed to cool stone, Jimin’s front pressed against your own. Your heart leapt into action, thudding unevenly against your ribcage as you stared at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes. Fuck. Fuck what the fuck—

“You need me?” his voice was low and raspy yet still ran against your ears like rich velvet. Your stomach dipped, arousal lighting your veins on fire. His hands gripped your hips tightly, one shifting up to grasp your waist; you curved into him instinctively. “You shouldn’t say such things so carelessly.”

Your heart was racing and your mouth was open in shock—you had no idea how to even begin processing what was happening, but he didn’t wait for your mind to catch up. His fingers dug into your supple flesh enough that the slight ache melted into pleasure and had a whine building in your throat—a whine that shifted into a squeak as he pressed you further into the wall and rolled his hips against yours, sending molten desire shooting along your spine and throbbing at your core. Your pulse was out of control at this point, and you could barely catch sight of his features in the darkness.

His thumb brushed up, pressing into the flesh over your ribs through the shirt and nearing dangerously close to the underside of your breast; you felt your breath catch in your throat. It was as though your mind was filled with nothing but static and acute awareness of just how close he was, brain unable to track anything else.

“You shouldn’t push so hard, little human, I’m not sure you’d like the end result,” his voice grew lower, tone laced with such promise that it had a shiver rolling down your spine. He leant closer, full lips brushing your cheek before they moved to your ear. You felt something foreign brush against your leg, dragging up the side of your thigh before brushing the skin where your shirt had ridden up. You jerked at the slick sensation, a gasp tearing from your lips. Jimin’s voice returned, lips tickling your ear as he spoke and making your knees weak.

“You are not the only one that can play, petal.”

And then just like that he was gone, cool air greeting you in the absence of his touch, and your mind was left reeling in its attempts to catch up. Flabbergasted, with your cheeks unbearably hot and legs wobbly, you just barely caught it as he disappeared into the shadows down the hall, the darkness shifting oddly behind him. A heartbeat later and he was gone from sight completely, and you were alone in the hall with a racing heart and your skin still tingling from the remnants of his touch.

What. What…

What the fuck just happened?

↞ prev. || three || next ↠

::[ please lmk what you think! & pls consider buying me a kofi if you’d like to support me in some way! <3 ]::

#jimin x reader #jimin fic #jimin series #jimin scenario #jimin smut #jimin x oc #alien jimin x reader #alien jimin x oc #tentacledipity #future smut #jimin au #bts au #bts fic #park jimin x reader #soulmate au #wanted au #fluff #my work #bts smut

2K notes · View notes

perspective-series · 5 years

Text

Freezing Perspective (6)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, extreme cold/almost freezing, mentions of dying, being ignored, unwanted touching, and feeling helpless

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

——————————————————————————-

Logan was first in the morning, letting out a small yawn. He looked down, surprised to see Patton was still there. After all, he could feel the heat had kicked back on in the night. Logan was grateful he was here to help Patton. These malfunctions were downright dangerous to someone of his stature.

“Good morning, Patton.” Logan kept his tone soft, not wanting to startle the borrower.

Patton stirred awake at the gentle rumble beneath him and the voice above him. He blinked his eyes open and lifted his head to look up at Logan. He smiled. “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep?” Logan asked, sitting up slightly but being careful not to jostle Patton.

“Great! You’re comfy.” Patton said, giggling.

Logan snorted slightly. “Well, I’m glad to be of service.”

Patton snuggled into Logan’s shirt a bit before sighing. “...Breakfast?” He asked, looking back up at the human.

“An excellent suggestion.” Logan put his hand underneath Patton to keep the borrower supported as he got out of bed, heading to the kitchen. “What should we have?”

Patton thought for a moment. “Uh, I don’t know. What do you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee.” Logan answered, knowing that though it may be true it was far from a correct response. “Although I have time to put more effort into our dietary needs today before I need to depart, so perhaps eggs would be more acceptable.”

“Oh, eggs sounds good!” Patton knew what eggs were. “But what is coffee?” He feels like he’s heard it before but couldn’t picture it in his mind.

“A caffeinated beverage.” Logan explained. He set Patton down on the counter, prepping both the eggs and the coffee. “It’s not healthy as a pure form of sustenance, but it does provide a nice energy boost.”

“Oh.” Interesting. “I’ll try it!”

Logan nodded, waiting until the coffee pot beeped to pour himself a mug full. Logan retrieved the bottle cap he had used before, making sure it was clean before scooping out a portion of coffee for Patton.

“Careful, it’s hot.” Logan warned, setting it down in front of Patton.

Patton nodded and blew on it before taking a small sip. His face scrunched up in disgust at the bitter taste. “...I don’t like it.” Patton said, pushing the cap away. “It’s way too bitter.” He would usually eat anything, being a borrower and all but not that.

Logan tried to hide his amused expression at Patton’s reaction, not wanting the borrower to feel embarrassed. “Some people do prefer to add sweeteners to it, but unfortunately I am not one such individual so I have none to offer to you.” Logan blew across his own mug, sipping away at it as he finished cooking the eggs.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you can drink that.” Patton said with a slight chuckle. “The eggs smell good though!”

“Would you like something else to drink?” Logan offered, pouring Patton’s cap back into his own mug.

“Water is fine, thanks!” Patton exclaimed, grinning.

Logan filled up the cap in the sink, placing it next to Patton. Noticing the eggs were done, Logan portioned them out onto his own plate and the teacup saucer again for Patton.

“Here you are.” Logan placed Patton’s portion in front of him.

“Thanks!” Patton started eating it, humming in pleasure at the taste. The food Logan had given to him over the past couple of days had been the best he’s ever eaten. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, I will have to get going in a short while.” Logan explained, eating his own eggs. “I have to go to class.” He wondered what Patton would be doing in the meantime. Logan began to worry about the possibility of the heat shutting off a third time without him around to help.

Logan looked down at Patton, contemplative for a moment. “Patton, would you...care to join me?”

Patton blinked. “Join you to...school?” He shouldn’t, really, but the idea intrigued him. He enjoyed Logan teaching him from his homework, maybe school would be fun to listen in on too. “Yes.” Patton said with a nod. He then grinned. “It sounds like fun!”

“Wonderful.” Logan released a small sigh of relief, glad that Patton didn’t need any convincing. “Of course, we will need to take some precautions. I certainly don’t want you to feel in any way claustrophobic, but to remain discreet we will need some method of transportation.”

Patton nodded and thought for a moment. “Well, a shirt pocket could work?” Patton suggested, knowing Logan had a few of those.

“A shirt pocket?” Logan looked down at his chest, having not even considered such a thing. “Well, I suppose it’s possible. Truly there’s only one way to find out. Do you need a ride anywhere to ready yourself for the day while I get dressed?”

“Uhh…” He looked down at himself before shaking his head. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Oh, alright.” Logan cleared their dishes. “Then I shall return shortly.”

Logan left the room, heading back to his bedroom to change. He ran his hands along the shirts hanging there, trying to decipher which fabric would be the most comfortable.

Patton grinned as he watched Logan leave and then moved to sit at the edge of the table and swung his legs. Sure, he was nervous to go out. There would be a lot of humans around after all. But he trusted Logan and he was excited to see what school was like.

“Alright.” Logan announced, coming back once he was dressed and ready for the day. “I suppose there’s no need to delay further.” Logan set his palm down for Patton.

Patton stood and quickly got into the offered hand. “Let’s go!” He was practically bouncing with excitement.

Encouraged by Patton’s enthusiasm, Logan smiled as he opened the chest pocket and set Patton inside. To the outside viewer it would be difficult to decipher what exactly was contained beneath the fabric. “How do you feel?” Logan asked, slowly letting the pocket close so Patton could get the full effect.

Patton squirmed a little but settled down. The fabric was nice and soft and he was lying down almost like the pocket was a hammock. He then heard a soft thumping coming from his right and he slowly realized that the sound was Logan’s heartbeat.

It was nice.

“It’s comfy!” He called out. “I like it!”

“Alright.” Logan walked around a bit, testing to make sure his pocket didn’t become too jostled. He grabbed his bag, heading for the door. “I will try to take things slow, but please alert me if for any reason you feel the need to be let out, alright?”

“Will do!” Patton called out. “I’m sure I’ll be fine though!”

Logan nodded, forgetting for a moment that Patton couldn’t see him. “Then we’re off.” Narrating his movements, Logan locked the front door and began the trek downstairs.

***

Virgil shifted awake, sitting up after several minutes of contemplating whether or not he should go back to sleep or not. He stretched his arms before looking down to where Roman had fallen asleep the night before.

The spot was empty.

Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart rate skyrocketed. He looked around the bed but he still couldn’t find him. “Roman!” He called out, scanning the floor before hopping out of bed. He got down on his hand and knees and started to look under the bed and then the dresser and just about everywhere else.

But there was no sign of Roman.

Virgil slowly stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He could tell from the temperature and the slight hum that the heater was turned back on. Which was good, at least Roman wouldn’t freeze. But what if it turned off again? What then? Not to mention he was just worried about Roman’s health in general.

Virgil knew he should have stayed up longer...because now Roman was gone.

“Okay, what to pack…” Roman murmured, throwing his belongings haphazardly into a bag. It was difficult going through his stuff and deciding what was worth dragging to a new home and what he should abandon forever.

Of course, it was going to be quite difficult moving in the dead of winter. Curse the universe for choosing now of all times to inconvenience him. Roman wasn’t nearly prepared for the snow, which more often than not would be above his head this time of the year. Roman groaned, already pondering if it’d be best to try and stand on top of it or simply tunnel through the snow.

Roman paused, his hands sorting through and finding a red sash amongst his clothes. Roman smiled, remembering when Patton had made this for him. To make him a ‘real adventurer’. What was he going to tell Patton? Oh dear, it wasn’t safe for Patton here either, was it? Because of Roman’s negligence, they were both in danger. But he couldn’t just not tell Patton. What if Virgil got him instead? Roman shuddered at the thought.

No, Roman would just have to come clean. Perhaps his honesty would make sure Patton didn’t completely hate him forever. Maybe Patton would even be open to the idea of moving into a new home together.

Despite knowing Roman was probably back in the walls by now, Virgil took the time to search around the rest of his apartment. Looking under everything and even calling out his name once or twice. Though, it wasn’t like Roman would even answer him if he was somewhere. It was quite clear that Roman hated him.

Virgil sighed at that. He thought it was better to be hated and protect. As long as Roman was safe and healthy, it didn’t matter what Roman thought of him. But still...the thought hurt.

Virgil stood back up, now facing a slightly open window. He caught a glimpse of white and hurried over. He drew the curtain and blinked as he saw the snow on the ground. What if Roman decided to leave the apartment. He could be out there, already dead.

Just then, the slight humming stopped and Virgil realized the heater had shut off. Oh no.

Roman heard it too. The ominous silence was much more foreboding inside the walls.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Roman muttered, leaping into action. He grabbed as many articles of clothing he could find, bundling up until he resembled more of a stuffed animal than a borrower. Overburdened as he was, Roman waddled out of his home, intent on making it out into one of the warmer apartments. One without Virgil, whom Roman heard still calling his name now and again just beyond the drywall.

Crap. He couldn’t just let Roman freeze. But what could he do? It wasn’t like he could get into the walls. He could keep calling out but who knew if Roman could even hear him. Still...he couldn’t just not try. “Roman!” He called out again. “Come on man! The heater turned off, come out so you can get warm!”

“As if I wasn’t already aware of that.” Roman muttered, rubbing at his shoulders to generate heat. The draft had come back, making the inner walls become a freezing wind tunnel.

Virgil cursed but he kept going despite knowing it was probably fruitless. “Come on! Look, I know you hate me! But I’m just trying to protect you!”

Roman ignored him, forcing his feet to continue going. Every step was becoming difficult, and when he thought about how far he’d have to travel just to reach another apartment Roman was almost ready to flop down right now and let the cold take him.

Virgil could already feel the temperature dropping. And if he could feel it, that definitely meant that Roman could feel it. He had to think of something, anything to get Roman to come out so Virgil knew he would be safe and warm.

“Roman! I just...I just don’t want you to die. And especially not because of me. If you come out, I’ll…” Virgil bit his lip. “If...If you just come out to get warm I’ll let you leave as soon as the heater turns back on!”

Roman couldn’t help it. He stopped in front of the open outlet cover, looking longingly at the blanket that was a mere few feet away. It was so tempting, if not for the fact it resided near a human calling his name.

But what choice did he have? At this rate it was either die on the way up to the fourth floor (the only other occupied apartment), or go out there and risk revealing himself again.

Virgil sighed, running a hand across his face. Welp, there was no way he was going to school today. Not with the knowledge that Roman was probably dying if not already dead. And it was his fault. His fault that Roman was too scared to come out or so scared that he left in the first place. Even with everything Virgil had offered him.

Virgil rubbed at his tear-filled eyes and headed into his bedroom to block the world out.

Roman tensed, realizing he had missed his chance when the pounding footsteps entered the bedroom. If he went out now, Virgil was sure to notice. The guy had heard him sneeze when he hadn’t even known about borrowers.

“D-do you promise?” Roman called out, making sure his voice projected despite the way his teeth chattered. Maybe if he cooperated, Virgil would stay true to his word. It was all Roman could hope for now.

Virgil froze, head snapping up and looking around but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see Roman. He bit his lip in thought. “...Yeah. I promise.” He just wanted Roman out of the cold.

“...then fine.” Roman pushed open the outlet cover, feeling as though he was turning himself in as he trudged underneath the bed. He slowly came forwards, bundling into the blanket that once again pooled over the edge.

Virgil’s head snapped to the floor near his bed as Roman came out and he couldn’t help but grin in relief. “You’re okay.” He kneeled down on the ground, smiling down at Roman.

Roman nodded. “J-just cold.” He hissed, his fingers still feeling as though they could snap off at any moment.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, before asking, “did you...need anything?”

“No, I came out here to swap pleasantries.” Roman retorted sarcastically, burrowing further into the fabric. At least out here it didn’t feel as though the wind would shatter him.

Virgil winced and looked down for a moment. “...Am I...really so bad that you would have almost rather frozen than come back here?” Virgil couldn’t help but ask.

Roman just raised an eyebrow, letting the human figure that out himself.

Virgil swallowed the lump forming in his throat, feeling the need to defend himself. “I was just trying to protect you, okay? I just...wanted you to have a better life…”

“I don’t need a ‘better’ life.” Roman grumbled. “I already have my life, and it’s good enough for me.”

“But...But it’s clear that you’re more surviving than living.” Virgil tried to explain more. “Wouldn’t you rather be able to live a life where you didn’t have to worry where your next meal was coming from? And be able to have better and fresh food? I can give you anything that you need!”

“I don’t want to become a pet for a few meals!” Roman exclaimed, feeling himself getting heated both by the blanket and his own anger.

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Who said anything about being a pet?” Virgil felt himself deflate. “Roman...I-I never…” He was having a hard time coming up with the words to say.

“Okay, less than a pet.” Roman corrected. “Because I’ve certainly seen humans take better care of a cat.” Roman spat the word ‘cat’, as it was truly a vile animal.

Virgil wanted to defend himself more but he took this moment to think back on everything he had done with Roman. He put himself in Roman’s shoes, letting go of his own view for a moment...he winced.

How...He had gotten him a dollhouse for pete’s sake. Sure, it was practical but it was a dollhouse. If Virgil was in Roman’s position, he’d find that more than a little demeaning. Especially if he hadn’t initially asked for it. Not to mention all the times he sort of just...ignored Roman and did what he thought was best.

Thinking on all these things, he came to a conclusion.

“I’m...a terrible person.” He said aloud.

“Most definitely.” Roman wasn’t sure if Virgil was being sarcastic, but he was inclined to agree with the statement anyways. The past few days with Virgil had certainly not been pleasant.

Virgil sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have...I should have listened to you more. I should have realized…” He shook his head, rubbing at his face.

“Like all the times I implicitly stated I didn’t want you to do something?” Roman reminded him. “Ooh, or how about the multiple occasions where your negligence could have gotten me killed?”

“What!?” Virgil exclaimed. “But I was being careful! When did I almost kill you?” Virgil hated the thought. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted, after all.

“Let’s see…” Roman began to count off on his fingers. “Trapped in a drawer, stuffed in a pocket, ignored in a cardboard box during freezing temperatures...and honestly, I’d say this time is your fault as well because I wouldn’t need to travel to another apartment if you weren’t such a scoundrel in the first place.”

Virgil’s face went even paler as he realized Roman was right. “Oh.” He said simply. “I...never meant...I’m sorry.” He said again. Man, he really messed this up.

“Yeah, I get it, you weren’t trying to kill me.” Roman admitted. Despite everything, he didn’t think that Virgil intended on actually killing him. Not yet, at least. “But you certainly weren’t trying not to kill me. For someone who’s propaganda is all “oh I’m Mr. Safety!” you’re doing a terrible job.”

“I get it, okay! I messed up!” Virgil suddenly exclaimed. “Whatever, you can leave as soon as the heat turns on. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Virgil stood up, sticking his hands in his pockets. Without another word, Virgil left the room, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Roman’s eyes widened, surprised at the human’s sudden exit. At least he seemed to have an impact on Virgil, forcing the human to see reason. And now Virgil had left him alone, so now Roman could enjoy the warmth in private until packing his bags and leaving for good.

And yet, for some reason, Roman couldn’t enjoy it. He shifted, for the first time feeling uncomfortable alone in a human’s room. Perhaps it was because, in a way, he had been invited here. Virgil had already promised he’d be free to go. It was only a tad bit cruel to insult him continuously after becoming a guest.

Virgil deserved it, sure, but Roman was still a borrower with manners.

Virgil practically collapsed onto his couch, flipping his hoodie up and pulling on the drawstring to close it around his face. He just...wanted to block out the world right now. Though...being alone with his thoughts wasn’t much better. So he took out his phone in order to distract himself. It only half worked.

Roman sat in uncomfortable silence, ears perking up at the familiar hum kicking back on. It seemed the humans were getting faster at fixing the heat. Perhaps if this happened again Roman wouldn’t even need to go to an apartment.

At the sound of the heat coming back on, Virgil sighed. He didn’t bother getting up to go check, he knew Roman was probably gone already. At least he’d be warm in the walls now. If the darn heater could stay on for more than an hour at a time.

Roman stayed longer than needed, conflicted as he stood up and stretched his arms in the once again warm air. Now all his layers felt positively sweltering, and Roman shed a few to carry them in his arms instead.

Roman glanced towards the door, feeling a slight tugging in his chest. Virgil’s gesture, this time, was actually helpful. Should he say something?

Roman shook his head. No, Virgil was still human. He couldn’t be trusted. And after everything that Virgil was done, they were at least even. In fact, Virgil probably still owed him an apology, and Roman had just spoken the truth. The borrower had nothing to apologize for.

….

Fine, he’d leave a note.

Roman dropped the bundle of clothes, deciding he’d pick them up on his way out. Roman jogged over to the desk, pulling out his hook. With a wide ark Roman threw it up, tugging to make sure the hook caught in the wood. Once he was satisfied, Roman began to climb.

After about a half-hour passed, Virgil figured he was fine to go back into his room. He stood up, hoodie still over his face as he shoved his phone into his pocket and headed for his room. It was a good thing he could take that dollhouse back. At least he didn’t waste his money.

Roman froze, pen between his hands as he was just about to write. Roman had wondered briefly whether it was a good idea to borrow something to write a note of this kind, but figured he had limited options.

Of course, as the floor began to shake, Roman realized he also had limited places to hide. He glanced at his hook, still waiting for him on the edge. Should he run for it? He likely wouldn’t make it in time. Not to mention, he had come up here to make a note to a human. Might as well tell him in person.

Still, the borrower instincts inside him told Roman this had been a terrible idea. Unable to stand out in the open willingly waiting for a human, Roman dashed behind the Laptop, leaving a streak of blue as the pen was still clutched between his hands.

Virgil entered his room, heading for his bed after a quick scan of the floor. Of course, he saw nothing and he face planted into bed. He stayed like that for a moment, before sitting up again. He could just stay...well, he could but he didn't really want to. Maybe he should go visit Logan. Talk to another person who actually liked him. That he hadn’t messed things up with. Yet.

Virgil stood and headed towards his desk to pack up his laptop. If he was there, he might as well get some help with his biology homework. But he paused when he noticed what seemed to be a half written note and a trail of blue leading...behind his laptop. “...What?” Was Roman...still here?

Roman felt his heart pounding, slowly peeking around the laptop. Just as he suspected, he immediately found himself in Virgil’s gaze. Roman gulped. “...hi.”

Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Roman? What...what are you still doing here? I thought...I thought you would be long gone by now.”

“I, well, yes.” Roman, realizing he was still holding the pen, felt a bit foolish. He let it clatter to the wooden surface. “I just…” Roman rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure why I’m here, honestly.”

“Well, you aren’t...trapped here anymore.” Virgil said the word with disdain. “You should go, actually. If you stay, I might just mess things up even more.” And that was the last thing any of them needed.

“Right, ah, thank you.” Roman snapped his fingers suddenly. “Thank you! That was it, I wanted to, um, thank you. Not for most of it though. Just...just the more recent bits. Where you weren’t completely insufferable.”

Virgil blinked. “...Oh.” Virgil looked off to the side. “Ya know, this whole time I was waiting for you to say that but now...I don’t deserve it.” Virgil shook his head.

“Yeah…” Roman winced. “I mean, really it was more of an...apology thing. Because certainly you don’t deserve me to be bowing at your feet or anything, but it might have been a tad bit excessive of me to insult you to your face, repeatedly, after you invited me in.” Roman gave an awkward cough. “Soooooo...apologies.”

“No...like I said, I deserved it. I might not have even realized how much I messed things up if you hadn’t done all that.” Virgil shook his head again.

“Hey, this isn’t about you.” Roman huffed, crossing his arms. “This is about me and relieving me of my guilt. I don’t really care about all that, humans are usually cruel. I just felt bad, for some reason.”

“Well, you don’t need to. Feel bad, that is.” Virgil huffed. He grabbed his computer bag and stuffed his laptop inside before putting it over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go. Feel free to do whatever.” And without even one last glance at Roman, Virgil left.

Now Roman felt a different confusing feeling. He felt irritated that a human was leaving him alone. How dare Virgil ignore him! Roman would have been grateful for this any time yesterday, but now Roman was frustrated. His stomach still felt as though it was one giant knot, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Why did he even care about Virgil anyways? None of this mattered. Roman should be packing right now. Why wasn’t he doing that?

Roman glanced around the bedroom. Rarely did he get the bedroom to himself, as, usually, Virgil was chilling in here. Now Roman was alone, and he felt none of the familiar fear a borrower should feel in a human home. In fact, Roman felt almost...at ease. He certainly didn’t want to return to the walls just yet. It would be cold in there, even with his extra layers and the heat back on. Perhaps he could just stay here a while.

Roman looked at the pen and paper, still ready and waiting for him. Perhaps he could even take the time to indulge his creative side. It had been a while since Roman was able to express himself like this. With a grin, Roman grabbed the pen again.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #borrowers #human!logan #human!virgil #borrower!patton #borrower!roman #platonic #freezing perspective #part 6

64 notes · View notes