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delopsia · 3 months ago

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I just finished reading Flowers in November, it was amazing!! These were some of my fav parts

Part 1: "Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

Rhett thanking the reader for helping him with his wound and saying no one’s ever done that for him before even though he gets hurt often was heartbreaking.

It was really sweet that Rhett stepped to the side when him and Royal start yelling so that it was led away from the reader.

Rhett reorganizing the house when he’s drunk is so cute!

I love the details that emphasize it’s a different world!(Cows with gold horns, circle pizzas, “mash two potatoes with one fork”).

“That’s it, he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, “pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours.”

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

The dirty talk had me sweating 😅

I love that they were both nervous that the hole was gonna open up and it’d be the last time they see each other.

“Someone’s been in here.”

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?" I love that rhett is so protective even though he just met the reader

Part 2

I love how grateful rhett is and that he always compliments the readers cooking even in the beginning when it doesn’t taste too good lol.

rhett comforting reader when they’re crying after they have a dream about their mom was too sweet! 🥹

Also rhett trying to put a bow on nyx was so adorable.

"I don't...nobody's ever...done anything like this for me before." That part was really sad and made me want to kiss him all over his face 😭

It made me happy that the Reader started bringing breakfast to him once or twice a week. And the one time she fed it to him made my heart melt!

So did them splitting the pieces of bacon, something about sharing food is so intimate!

It broke my heart when rhett got jumped by the tillersons (especially since it was Perry’s fault) but I’m glad reader helped take care of him and he’s healing now. It brought tears to my eyes when it mentioned how he spooks easier now.

(1/2)

Oh my goodness, thank you SO much for this 😭💐haha, I didn't think folks even read the old Flowers In November series any more! It was so cool to see all of your thoughts and favorite lines, Rhett's little protective streak, the cooking, the mundane comforts of being around him, the stuffed animal, Nyx the kelpie. I can't believe I forgot about all of this 🥹

It took me forever to figure out how to format this 😔✌ but I've tucked the other half of your ask underneath the 'Keep reading' button!

Part 3

‘A sharp, earsplitting crack rings out, a heavy, elephant-sized fist hitting the ground.’

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't realize you've jumped until Rhett's pulling you down from it, bringing you impossibly closer, "I've got you, baby."

Rhett comforting the reader and holding them close before they were even officially together was just *chef’s kiss* 😚

Rhett punching perry for disrespecting the reader was so sexy

Hearing the backstory of perry and Rebecca damn perry is fr a villain

"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," and when he says your name at the end of the sentence, it sounds like a melody. "Y'know that?"

‘Through the conflict of your heart, split between worlds, you find yourself in silent agreement.’

‘Cupping his cheeks, you squish them together, wrenching an amused chuckle from him, "sometimes, I don't believe you're real."

This part is so soft and sweet it has me so 🥰

"This what you wanted?" His deep voice rumbles against your scalp, rattling around your skull. Why does something so simple turn me on so much?’

Feeling him speaking against my head would fix me

"Fuck," leaning down, he presses a kiss to your upper chest, just above your cleavage, "fuck, you're beautiful."

"Has anyone told you how perfect you are?"

"Could fuckin' die happy between these pretty legs of yours," speaking directly into your wetness, vibrating deliciously up your core, "y'know how long I've thought 'bout this?"

"You like my finger, darlin'?" Adding another finger to join the first, working you, "God, you're takin' them so well for me."

The dirty talk along with Rhett’s arms trembling when he first slides into the reader had me foaming at the mouth 🤤

"Like a fuckin' daydream on top of me," he says against your lips, "y'know that?" The way he looks up at you tells you that he means every word. Smitten.’ Please rhett saying all these sweet things is a NEED not a want

"Stretchin' for me so well, darlin'," the squelch of your wetness is filthy, "god damn, your hot little cunt is so wet."

"Sweetie, please," pleading around a shaky breath, "want—wanna cum."

"Baby, baby," those eyes barely open, breath hitching, "feels good. Fuck, it feels good."

"You're so sensitive," cooing as you feel his thighs tremble beneath you, "you gonna cum in me, sweet boy?"

Rhett’s eyes crossing when he came cause it felt so good has forever changed me, I will be thinking about it several times a day for the rest of my life 🥵

Part 4

"Is this your stuffed animal?" You ask when he steps into the room.’

Rhett grins at the sight of the old thing, "yeah, that's Toast."

The name fits the little guy perfectly. A light brown body with dark brown feet and a spot on his left eye. Visibly loved, its fur matted and missing in places.’

"I almost feel bad for defiling his home like we did," every time you look at this little twin bed, you remember that night, especially what happened the morning after.’

‘There's no need for you to look to know that Rhett's cheeks are heating up; you can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Arms wind around your waist, burying his hot face into the back of your neck.’

I always love a fic where rhett blushes, he’s just a cute, bashful cowboy ☺️

And it’s so precious to think about little rhett sleeping with a stuffie when he was younger and getting so attached to it that he keeps it 🥹🥰

Him turning toast around when he gets a blowjob, he is too cute for words to describe!

‘Here he is. Your big cowboy whimpering into his own palm as you suck him off in his childhood bedroom. Helpless to do nothing but take it.’

Him going from just previously being shy about the night you had sex in his twin-size bed to covering his mouth with his palm to prevent moaning like a little slut had me dizzy and panting 😮‍💨😵‍💫

I loved how rhett made the reader breakfast even though he’s not the best cook. It melted my heart!

"I can't imagine a day in my life without you," his voice breaks, gradually becoming watery, "and I promise you that as long as my heart's still beatin', I'm gonna be there." With every word, he shakes a little harder, trembling just like your quivering heart is.’

Pushing your noses together, those final words tumble off his tongue, "I love you," breath hitching, "and ain't nothin' in this world can get between that."

That was one of my fave parts and it just made what happened next all the more heartbreaking

"Please don't let go of me," quivering like a leaf, you squeeze as close to Rhett as possible.

"'m not gonna let you go," he promises, stepping further down the fence line, away from the hole, "I promise, baby, you're not goin' anywhere."

Please that part was so sweet and heartbreaking. It had me tearing up. It was also so intense and I love that not only rhett tried to save the reader but how Nyx tried to save the reader too and I’m glad that Nyx got to go with the reader and that the reader didn’t have to go into her old world all alone

"You found your necklace," you mutter, turning it around to sit correctly on his neck.’

"I'm glad you weren't there to see me ballin' my damn eyes out over it," but that watery grin tells you that you may witness it anyhow.’

A tear escapes; is quickly wiped away by your ring finger. He catches the glint of the stones in the light, grins, and presses a kiss to it when he finds the chance.’

"I hope you didn't find that stack of letters," you never did finish them, did you?’

"I read every single one," and then Rhett curls his hands around your cheeks, guiding you down to press your foreheads and noses together, "I love you too."

Thinking about rhett finding the necklace and letters and crying just broke my heart but I loved it at the same time!! It was one of the parts that tugged most at my heartstrings!

I love that rhett took toast with him! He’s so adorable!

Them going to go get a bag of concrete mix to cover up the purple flower at the end was so smart!

The epilogue was so funny and cute! I’m so glad they got a happy ending! And were able to play pizza box frisbee together lol 😂

It was such a fantastic series!! 🩷🩷🩷

#delgato's asks #fairyheart

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

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Lost & Found - Chapter Sixteen.

First update of the week is here again! Big thanks for all your engagement, my lovely little audience :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Words - 3,448

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

New relationships. For the most part, the new voyage with a brand-new person is taken upon a calm sea of getting to know one another, hanging out, having fun, and a copious amount of sex. Occasionally, though, the sea gets a little choppy.

Especially when said new relationship involves living together right off the bat.

Even more so when person A has been recovering from a hellish life, and person B has been tiptoeing around them because of this, perhaps taking a little more in the way of selfishness than he should have.

Lee already had a tension headache that morning. Hearing Emma and Guero going at one another with the kind of decibels that made her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull didn’t help. She’d be lying if she’d stated that she hadn’t been wondering when this might all blow up, from the little observances she’d noted between the two.

“You know, if things ever go south with me and Bish, I’m fuckin�� marrying you,” she spoke, a look of bliss on her face, Angel standing behind her squeezing the tension from her neck. It was always the cause of her headaches. That and she refused to wear her glasses as much as she should.

“What, just for my massage skills? ‘Cuz if you think my hands feel great on your neck...” Looking down, she saw them hovering above her boobs, Lee nudging him with a soft elbow.

“Quit it!”

He laughed returning them to her neck, both of them distracted as the clubhouse door flew open, the small hurricane of a very pissed off Emma flying out, Guero following.

“Em! Get the fuck back here!”

“No way, not after what you just said!”

“Damn,” Angel winced, “she’s getting sassy.”

“Yeah, she’s pushing back,” she observed, sipping her coffee. “Now that she actually can.”

“How’d you mean?”

Lee circled her neck a little, a few clicks sounding. “She had nineteen years of never being able to fuckin’ argue against anything. Don Lombardi said jump, she asked how high. Now she knows she’s not gonna cop a beating or a hot knife against her, she’s learning to speak up.

“I think she’s pretty fuckin’ sparky by nature, but it’s been supressed for a long fuckin’ time and poor Guero, he ain’t used to it. He’s gotten used to this sweet, meek woman who didn’t disagree with nothing, you know? To be fair, though, he’s also let her get away with it, wanting her own way now she realises she can, and him suddenly not letting her ain’t fuckin’ sitting well with Emma, being told no.”

Angel marvelled at how, as usual, Lee truly was the all-seeing eye of the MC family, her assessment making a lot of sense to him, even if he hadn’t really noticed any details beyond the fact the young couple had been yelling at one another for the last twenty minutes. “They should just go bang it out, man. Always works for me.”

Lee leaned back, viewing him upside down with a raised eyebrow. “And when was the last time you had a healthy relationship from those avoidance tactics, hmm?”

He thought for a few moments, moving his hands to the base of her skull. “Hmm.”

“Exactly,” she grinned, winking.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess me and women don’t exactly go hand in hand like that.”

“Nope, because you only ever keep ‘em at arm's length. Or dick’s length, never really let ‘em in, do you?”

He had no comeback for that, the truth of his lack of confidence in relationships presented to him, tugging a tiny piece of her hair before he continued his pinching. “Whatever it is, I kinda hope they’re done soon. It's too early for all this loud bitching.”

“And if we agree on one fuckin’ thing, Reyes elder, it’s that!” she sighed, the shouting from across the yard not showing any signs of abating just yet. At least one good thing had come from it, she guessed. Emma now realised that anger wasn’t the ultimate precursor to anything bad happening, she didn’t recoil from a raised voice and tremble in fright. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Expressing angry emotions instead of bottling things up was healthy, but perhaps in that moment they both needed to walk away and calm down, Guero finally doing that, storming back into the clubhouse while Emma tore a path back to the workshop with heat in her heels, her jaw set.

“The absolute fucking nerve of him!” she muttered, picking up a spanner, beginning her work again.

“Hey, no rage while you’re working with brake cables,” Lee instructed, pointing across the shop at her.

“I can’t help it! Jesus fucking Christ, he’s got me so damned mad!”

“While you’re in my workshop, yeah you fuckin’ can. I’m technically your boss, so I can tell you what to do, and you can either like it or leave, Emma. If I say no rage, then you gotta calm your fuckin’ shit down before you work on brakes. We clear?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek with annoyance, placing the spanner down and sighing, counting to ten. “Yeah, yeah, we are. Sorry.”

“Good.” Lee watched her carefully, taking a few moments to cool off, sipping at her cherry Coke while she calmed down, moving back to the huge Harley and continuing with her task of fitting the new brake cables. She left it about ten minutes before speaking again. “Alrighty, now boss Lee is done, friend Lee is here. Whassup with you guys? You wanna talk about it, chat it out, spill all?”

“Lots of little things,” she began, her nostrils flaring as she took off her gloves, leaning on the handlebars of the bike before her. “It’s all compounded and he’s basically calling me selfish for always wanting my own way, but I’m not! He isn’t being fair!”

A few more details were revealed, the main bone of her contention being that he refused to travel nearly two hours away to see a used car she liked the look of, his refusal not being met by anything close to grace. Most of her other gripes were of a similar pattern, which if Emma took ten seconds to breathe over rather than losing her cool, she’d see she was being a little unreasonable about. Lee knew why she was struggling with that, though.

In truth, this was her first real relationship with someone, and even though a fully grown woman at twenty-nine, her expectations were quite childish. She expected her own way because Guero had so far let her have it, and maybe that was his fault, setting a standard that wasn’t realistic. Emma experiencing this sudden hostility was likely triggering of her past, though, never being able to have her own voice, being dictated to as well.

It wasn’t really her fault; she simply didn’t know how to handle conflict, how to compromise, since she’d never experienced give and take. Likely, she thought that compromise meant she was being ordered around again, when that simply wasn’t the case. It really didn’t help that Guero too only had two modes, calm and easy, or flying off the handle. He was just like his dad in that respect; there was no in between. Either way, Lee knew she had to handle her reply very carefully.

“Okay, I’m not saying all, but a lot of this is boiling down to you not liking hearing the word no, because it reminds you of a time when that was all you did hear. I also get it that you want to ask for things, now that you actually can. You deserve ‘em, sunshine! Ain’t nobody who does more than you after all you fuckin’ went through, but there’s a but here.”

“And that is?” she asked, Lee pulling her cigarettes out and lighting up.

“You gotta see you can’t expect everything to go your way. Guero is entitled to have his own opinions and if they don’t mesh with yours, you can’t fuckin’ blow up and demand of him. He isn’t Rocco, babe. Yeah, he can be bad tempered, but he ain’t trying to clip your wings, hold you down, bend you to his will, which is the way I think you’re taking it.”

“Let’s use the car thing as an example. Him not wanting to take you all the way up to Anaheim to see a used car you’ve found, a near two-hour journey each way isn’t him being an asshole. I mean, you haven’t even fuckin’ got your learners permit yet! There’re stacks of cars closer to home for sale, too. That’s where you have to meet him halfway and compromise. It’s his time off, he doesn’t wanna spend nearly four hours of it on a fuckin’ motorcycle again when he could be just chilling out, enjoying his time with you in any number of other ways. C'mon, surely you can see that?”

It wasn’t the reply she’d been expecting, but if Emma was brutally honest with herself, it was the one she needed to hear. Lee’s usual calm pragmatism, delivered in her no-nonsense, yet gentle fashion put a hole in her armour, one she needed to actually let in a little bit of sense. Butting heads with Guero, especially how fiery he was when pissed off, had done nothing but make her build a further wall.

Emma realised she was being overly defensive and thus his perfectly reasonable refusal to let her have her own way wasn’t being met by any fairness from her, because it wasn’t getting through. She cringed internally at herself as the realisation of it smacked her.

As if reading her thoughts, Lee continued. “I’ll add here too that you’re not solely in the wrong. Guero and his crazy little temper should know that yelling at you isn’t gonna solve shit. You’ve had too much yelling, but he struggles hanging onto his fire. He needs to dial it back, though.”

The uncomfortableness began to subside, Emma realising it was time to put on her big girl pants. “I’m being a bit of a princess, aren’t I?”

“Yup!”

Moving out from behind the bike, she looked over to the clubhouse. “Think I might need to go apologise for my part.”

Lee nodded. “Humble pie don’t taste too good, huh, sugar?”

“Pretty damned bitter, buddy.” Lee threw her head back, pushing a soft fist against her shoulder, Emma walking over to the clubhouse. Angel and Bottles were outside, both looking at her with slight scepticism.

“Is this about to be round two? Cuz’ my ears can’t take it,” the former asked, Emma shaking her head.

“Nope, off to extend my apologies. Sorry to you guys, too, having to bear witness to our drama.”

The men shared a sharp head turn in one another’s direction. “Yo, he gotta woman who says she’s sorry? Damn. Where’d I find myself one of those?” Angel announced, Bottles laughing as Emma crouched next to where they were loitering on the steps.

She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “You might have one right here if he tells me to go fuck myself.”

Angel snorted, reaching to pat her arm a few times. “He ain’t gonna do that, shut up. If he does, though...” He winked at her with a click of his tongue, Emma laughing, kissing his forehead. She really liked Angel. For all his wise assed bravado, he was actually one of the least threatening of the guys, one she gelled with more than others. Him, Gilly and Bottles were her people, she’d found in the six months she’d been in their lives for at that point.

“Just kick him in the nuts if he starts yelling again, babe,” the latter spoke, Emma shaking her head and standing.

“That isn’t conducive to calming things down.”

Bottles sniffed, turning his head back to grin at her. “No, but it’d make me laugh.” His words made a little bit of the tension she carried melt, turning back to the doors and taking a deep breath before letting herself in.

“I swear to fucking god, if you’re here to scream at me some more,” Guero began, turning from where he was sat at the bar with Bishop and EZ.

“Can we talk?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I can, but you just wanna fucking embarrass the living hell out of me with your yelling, so if it’s more of that, then no.” The two men he was sitting with slowly slinked away, not wanting to be right in the way of things if they blew up for a second time, Emma waiting until they’d retreated.

“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching to stroke his forearms. The muscles stiffened on contact. “I’ve realised I was being a princess about things and not being reasonable. I need to compromise more, I see that now. I’m sorry I yelled at you, too. I love you, let’s get past it.”

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his jaw flexing. “And you need to stop looking at me and seeing that dick who took your life away. I know that’s what you’re doing, and it offends the fuck outta me.” As it would, she thought, since her boyfriend was the very antithesis of Rocco in the way he treated her. “Alright. We’re good.”

He looked and sounded the furthest thing from it. “No, we’re not. It’s written all over your face, how mad you are at me.”

He shrugged with nonchalance. “Maybe that’s for you to deal with.”

Oh, he wasn’t budging. When her man held a grudge, he truly did hang onto it with both hands and every single one of his teeth.

She rolled her eyes, turning away. “Mother fucking Mary, you’re so stubborn.”

Rather than fight against it because she didn’t like it, she decided to leave him to it. He’d calm down in his own time, she figured. Being an adult and accepting that was part of the process of being in a relationship was all she could do. She’d apologised, now it was up to him to either take it on board or need further time to simmer down a little more.

Until then, she had bikes to work on, and outlaws to keep her entertained, especially later that afternoon when she stopped for a break and a cold beer. Angel, Bottles and Downer were her source of relief while she sat studying a Harley Davidson manual, familiarising herself with the set up.

It was while she was reading about the engine configuration that Angel broke her concentration with his request. “You’re fuckin’, you’re... hey yo, Emma! Gimme a fancy word for rude.”

“Impertinent,” she offered, Downer snorting.

“Ain’t that when a dude can’t get his dick up?”

Oh, he was walking right into it. “No, buddy. That’s impotent.”

“Yeah, he’s that, too,” Bottles offered, his face alight with mischief.

Angel laughed hard, swigging his beer. “Ain’t got shit to say to that, huh dog?”

“You wouldn’t be nothin’ without your lil’ blonde dictionary over there! Bitch ass probably didn’t even finish high school!”

“Fuck you, man. I finished!”

“I didn’t, though. Didn’t even go, you know, with the whole kidnapped thing.” All three stared at her in disbelief.

“Then how come you’re so well spoken?” Bottles asked, Emma shrugging.

“I read books. Lots of them.” Just then, she felt a body slide behind hers, two familiar tattooed arms draping around her.

“You know what one of those is, right Angel? Primitive version of Netflix.” After his amusing comment – with Angel not so amused by his sarcasm - Guero then leaned in close to her, tightening his arms and kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry for being a bad-tempered ass, wasn’t all just you, baby.”

Her hands clutched onto his forearms, stroking them as she turned to offer a kiss. “I appreciate that.” Her smile warmed him where he'd been feeling frosty, knowing that for his part, he needed to actually accept when someone was sorry instead of holding onto his grudge; even if that holding had only been for a couple of hours.

As for Emma, she recognised it as an important part of her leading a normal life, not letting her past influence her present. It would be easier said than done, she supposed, not to let it happen, not to immediately think that every objection Guero made was an attempt at control. At least now thanks to Lee’s advice, she could see when she was doing it.

Later that night, they spoke about it, Emma lying at one end of the bathtub, him at the other.

“See I kinda think you’re still pissed at me, giving me the tap end of the tub,” he commented, Emma raising an eyebrow.

“Excuse me, who decided to encroach on who’s bath time?”

She had him there, Guero biting his lip as he pulled a face that made her giggle. “Yeah, alright.” Grabbing one of her feet, he began to rub them for her, a gesture appreciated since she’d been on them all day, running around the yard. “I meant what I said about you seeing me in the same light as that slimy fuck from your past, though. We can disagree without you immediately thinking I’m behaving like him. I get that it’s hard for you, but yeah. Try not to go there, alright?”

“I will. Promise I will, honey,” she vouched. “I have a lot of shit to process, I guess. You’ve been so patient with me, too. I don’t blame you for getting pissed off.”

He shrugged. “I ain’t perfect either, and I say I get it, that you have shit to process, but I guess I never really will truly understand it, what you have to deal with. I’m not pretending I will either, but yeah. I’ll try not to lose my shit and be so bad tempered with you while you do. Speaking of that, I gotta say it! You’re nearly as fucking explosive as I am. It’d be a turn on if it wasn’t directed at me.” He went to bite her toes, Emma snatching her foot away with a squeal. “I gotta new type, apparently. Sparky blondes. Sparky blondes whose feet I’m gonna bite.”

“No!” she squeaked, Guero going for the other foot.

“Yeah? Stop me.”

Half the water in the tub was lost to the pursuit of bitten toes, Emma scream laughing, wrapping her legs around him eventually to prevent his onslaught, giving him a defiant look. “Now what are you going to do, hmm?”

He looked her up and down, eyebrows fluttering suggestively. “You.” He leaned to kiss her, his body covering hers, more of the water sloshing out onto the floor. “Today started bad, let’s end it better, huh?”

It ended a lot better, that was for certain. Even though the bathroom floor resembled that of a swimming pool once they were done.

Later that night, as Guero slept at her side – and quietly for once – Emma lay back and played the day over in her head. While medication had eased her anxiety and worked to relieve her of the nightmares that had plagued her, there was much more work she needed to do on herself. While physically, she was far from Staten Island, mentally she was still there in how she was handling conflict.

Turning to her side, she could just about make out her love from the light filtering through the tiny cracks in the blinds, both too busy enjoying one another some more once they’d made it out of the bathtub to bother closing them properly. He was her safe person, the one who’d literally found her, and the one who’d made her realise he was different to all she knew. She owed it to him to believe that, believe him.

Speaking of Staten Island, while she and Guero slept, not two miles from their location a call came in from a resident of that very New York City borough.

“Ezekiel, Rocco Lombardi.”

Standing up, EZ walked from the clubhouse out into the quiet of the yard to take the call, the cooler night air wisping gently against his face, listening as he continued. “So, it’s been almost a year since our arrangement commenced, and things are running well. I’d like to propose a meet with you and your VP again, discuss something extra I intend to move along with our current consignment.”

There it was. The other shoe Bishop had warned him about – and the same one Emma had spoken of months before - had finally dropped.

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #guero x ofc #guero smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc smut #mayans mc season 5

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loveoaths · 2 years ago

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"i never said you were stupid. not out loud." for din baby

Set in the In the Shadow of the Valley (Padawan!Din AU). AU Summary: When young Force-sensitive Death Watch assassin Din Djarin fails his mission to kill Anakin Skywalker, he expects the Jedi to kill him. What actually happens is far, far worse: Skywalker makes him his padawan. ( AU Playlist. )

Din Djarin is not much of a talker.

Growing up on Aq Vetina he was bashful and shy, clinging to his mother’s skirts as she bargained at the market, or getting happily dragged into trouble by his fearless little sister. He was no good with words, but he was an honest child who shared his thoughts with those who loved him enough to ask, and in the company of love the words tucked like seeds beneath his tongue flourished green and sweet as summer fruit; simple, maybe, but lovelier for it.

Then they died – They were murdered, the voices of his Death Watch instructors hiss in his head; Death is no accident, never forget that, boy – and the flowers in his mouth died with them.

Death Watch took him in, and any inclination of speaking his mind was beaten out of him. He was a soldier, a weapon to be used. He learned to hold his tongue and his blaster with the same deadly grip. Those were the rules.

Then, through a series of events that still baffle him years later, the Jedi Anakin Skywalker took him in, and suddenly the rules changed all over again. Always speak your mind, even if you think I don’t want to hear it, because I do. I want to know you, Master Skywalker would coax him when they were alone, So tell me what’s rattling around in that tin can of yours.

This was… Difficult, in the beginning, but over the last year they’ve come to understand each other, and sharing his thoughts with his Master became second nature.

It’s also caused a lot of disagreements, like the one they’re in right now.

“...I never said you were stupid,” Din says once the ship breaks free of Florrum’s atmosphere and there’s no longer a possibility his Master will Force throw him out of the airlock.

He can hear Anakin’s fists tighten around the steering mechanism, his Force signature swarming the cockpit with rippling displeasure, and, oh, he’s angry. Beskar capuor ni, but he isn’t backing down without cause. Din clears his throat, grateful the Jedi code allows him to continue wearing his buy’ce so his Master cannot see him nervously sucking on his bottom lip. “...Not out loud.”

“Not out loud, no,” Anakin’s voice coils in on itself, a wounded creature hunching over what hurts with teeth bared. “But you said my plan was, and I quote, ‘as sensible as a concussed gundark.’ In front of the a pirate horde. That’s worse than stupid.”

“So was your plan,” Din returns mildly, meeting Anakin’s sharp look head-on through the T-visor. “You aren’t stupid, Master. You just act like it sometimes.”

“This is why I don’t like you hanging around Obi-wan,” Anakin mutters darkly, but the storm cloud thundering across his face mellows into something wicked as he leans forward, durasteel finger brushing against the hyperspace switch. “At least I’m smart enough not to piss off the pilot.” Din has time to spit out a huh before Anakin punches the button and Din’s head slams back against his chair with a loud thunk.

Star-streaks and hearty laughter swirl around Din’s sore skull, but he smiles in spite of himself because, yeah, maybe he deserved that one.

And anyway, a sore spot is a small price to pay for knocking his Master down a peg or two.

Still accepting drabble requests and prompts !

#thanks for sending my friend ;)#padadin au.#oddstone #answered.#fic tag.#in the shadow of the valley

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baileybooks · 2 years ago

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Pastures

Out in the pastures the cows graze and wander over these here lands we call home. They’re wild, sure, but they’re ours now. My sons and daughters work their hands to the bone, but it’s good and honest work and what they don’t know ain’t gonna kill ‘em. Far as I know every random placed boulder or rock might as well be some unmarked grave, but I ain’t always able to tell which is which, so I just tell the kids to be real respectful around em. We got enough ghosts round these parts as it is.

Our home ain’t fancy, it’s made of wood and tin and the windmill nearby creaks in the wind and when there’s a storm whipping about outside the walls rattle. Sometimes I get jealous of them there prairie dogs, they get to hunker down in their lil underground burrows, snuggle up with their families. We only got one room, so we sure end up snuggling but it’s different when your wife can’t sleep cos’ the youngest won’t stop fidgeting and your eldest keeps yabbering away in her sleep and the middle one has been staring up at the ceiling the whole time which honestly is just darn unnerving. Least they don’t know anything else really, otherwise I think I’d never hear the end of the complaining.

The ploughs keep breaking, it’s the dark grass roots round here, thicker than iron in places I swear. The horses pull and pull, but this is the third one we’ve broke this season and each time is a five day trip for a new one. Our nearest neighbours are ten miles away, two lovely ladies in one of them Boston marriages. Real well spoken, I often wonder what brought them out to the wilderness round here, but our little community ain’t nosy. If you don’t tell, we ain’t gonna ask and I like that about this place. Same goes for the land. It’s a balancing act. I ain't gonna lie. I made the mistake of moving the wrong rock, or digging in the wrong place a fair few times and as I said, we got enough ghosts as it is. You upset em and they’ll sure let you know. We don’t go talkin’ about that stuff to the kids' mind, don’t wanna scare 'em’, keep the goings on quiet and maybe someday it’ll go away. My wife thinks otherwise mind and when we do talk about it, I sure get some harsh words from her. If I disturb anything it’s never on purpose and I do my best to put everything back where it belongs, even if it means putting teeth back into a skull and reburying it.

I have my own theories about the gravesites around here, whatever it was it happened long before we was ever here. First of all they seem to be all over the place, ain’t no rhyme or reason. The ground round here is so hard to cultivate so I don’t know why anyone would try digging the soil round here (other than us mind, but anyone who moves out round here has to be some kind of crazy). I thought maybe there were people here before us, I mean, had to be if they’re leaving their bodies about, but I ain’t found a single scrap of habitation. No little trinkets buried away, no foundries of some kind of stand to or home, I mean there ain’t any trees to cut down and use. When we came out here we were told the only people we might see were travellers like us or nomadic native folks coming through, but that's rare.

But sometimes I see em just standing out in the long grass watching. That’s how I know I’ve disturbed a body, because they sure as hell crawl out the ground and come let me know. They never approach, when I’ve called out they never respond and if I try approach ‘em they vanish just as quick as they appeared. I catch the rustlin’ in the grass and I wonder if they’re getting closer. It’s unnerving sure, and I’ve got to stay calm and civil for the kids but not one of ‘em has hurt me directly yet. I just know it’s my job to go find what I did and put it right.

The one thing we are sure of is they cause other things to go wrong. If I take more than a day to go put things right we end up with bad weather. The Milk can sour and the butter can curdle. A rat might get into the grain storage. I’m pretty sure our old horse Nell went lame and subsequently slipped her mortal coil due to them. But that was only once. They stand faraway and watch and that’s all I need to know I have to retrace my steps and put things right. There’s a reason the kids never work the plough, wouldn’t want them accidentally bringing misfortune upon themselves. Suppose that’s their old man’s job instead, but it’s a burden I’m willing to bear for ‘em. We’re happy here for the most part, our strange neighbours and all. You’ve just gotta have a knack for dealing with ‘em. The kids will understand someday, if this lil pasture is still ours by the time I'm too old to work I’ll tell em, or my wife will. She’d be first to let ‘em in on it, but I have the feeling she’d rather sell the farm first. I love her but she’s not as in love with the land round here as I am.

#short story #folk horror #midwestern things #writing #creative writing #prairie

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wow-thisismylifeiguess · 11 months ago

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I have 6 shadow company OCs and they’re are all dumb as shit (I love them dearly). So fucking stupid (I’d do anything for them)

BUT ONE OF THEM. HE CONSUMES MY THOUGHTS ON THE DAILY. I WAKE UP THINKING ABOUT HIM. I GO TO BED THINKING ABOUT HIM. HE IS ALWAYS IN MY HEAD. THAT GENDER FLUID, OMEGA/BETA, BROTHER AND COMMANDER FUCKING SON OF A BITCHHHHH

I want to strangle him. I want to kiss his fucking face. I want to shake him so violently, his brain rattles around in his fucking skull. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’ve never been so insane about a man before. AND I MADE HIM UP, GODDAMNIT

#julian thatcher you bastard of a man #I AM IN LOVE W YOU I SWEAR TO GOD #also. let it be known. I want to be him so badly #the fact that he’s fiction and not me? horrid #my post #about me #and. well #cod

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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I WANT YOUR BELLY.

Summary: The shimmery vest of Harry's on you makes him combust on the spot ;)

A bottle of wine gone in a span of minutes. Your giggles treacly and slurry as you poke his heart-shaped, wine stained lips matching with his pink refulgent vest and he grins toothy-ly sweat sheened on his perfect features and his nose twitches into besotted sniff of your fragrance, leaning down to murmur his lips to yours.

“What got ya gigglin’ like tha’ lovebug?” You shake your head in slight carelessness. His brows furrowing in confusion, mouth parting musingly into a soft chuckle when you shimmy his vest down his arms leaving his upper half naked and all beautiful for you to admire.

“Just relax and see.” You whine out timidly tip-toeing on your toesies to the centre of the hotel room you guys are staying at -- well more like fucking morning and evening with a little tinge of exclusivity everytime.

When you came back to this cosy place of yours after an hour of his show ending that shimmery feeling of proud for him and the jitteriness to love on him was still there, more like doubled up when your eyes weren’t able to drift away from the stiff bulge forming in his pants from all the adrenaline and heat pumping in his body due to praises.

He takes pride in it, absolutely basks in the novelty of it.

His dimples dings up into a wicked smirk, the heels of his palms sinking into the soft bedding as he man-spreads quite sexily and leans into his own weight then straightens up immediately with bright eyes and a shit-eating grin when you strip down your clothes slowly.

“You givin’ me a strip tease baby!?” He howls playfully and you shushes him through sputtry giggles, head lulling at your shoulder and you laugh at the top of your lung as he rolls his eyes to his skull in the most erotic way and squeezes his straining member with the cup of his large palm when you get rid of every item of clothing you had on your body and with hesitant glances his way wears his vest.

It accentuates your curves beautifully, falling a little over your thighs from how big it’s since it’s his’s and it gives the most pristine view of the crescent of your tits and the valley between them.

His stomach froths with heat, the fabric of his pink flared bottoms from his splotching with the dollops of his precome and his bare chest heaves with raged breaths as you rub your one feet over another in timidness, knowing you’re drunk enough to do this but sober enough to contemplate how to put it infront of him.

Though they both know even if you move it an inch away to show him your perky tits, it’s over for the curly head.

“You know how belly dancers got this cute sparkly shiny dresses to make them appear more bendy? I’ve always wanted to do that! It seems so fun!” To your defence you always wanted to dance as carefree and fun as they do all you didn’t know was that it’ll be like this – giving a literal fever to your boyfriend and arousing both of you to such an extent where all his fierce eyes are indicating he’s about to strike forward and throw you on the bed and pound into you reckless.

The room fills with her sweet laugh when Harry fans himself, puffing out huge inhales of breaths and smirks at her cheekily.

“A lap dance would be much appreciated, thank you.” He's almost about to burst because she sure as hell looks amazingly stretchy and bendy and very breed able in this shiny thing.

“What a gentleman. Now, put on some music so I could give you a show you really deserve.” You command him and he nearly whimpers wanting to crawl towards you and spanks that bum of yours.

You’re suppressing your chuckles when he almost falls face first into the carpeted floor while scrambling to put on some music and when he returns back he’s rocking back and forth like an impatient kid -- doing anything in his will to give a bit friction, some relive to his throbbing cock.

“Promise that you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You point a finger at him, eyebrow raised to assert a little bit of power you’ve over him.

“C’mon baby! My balls are turning blue d'ya think I could ever make fun of you when you’re being such a good girl f'me?” His groans shaky and hoarse, nostrils flaring and his hands sandwiching between his thighs to subside the ache that you caused.

Hot white pleasure surges through each of his cervices and rattles through his bones upon the absolute lewd and smutty sight of you dancing for him with your eyes affixed on him like a seductress and it pelts his skin hot.

“Fuck.” He’s cursing under his breath, as you curve around gracefully and shakes your ass for him teasing your fingers over the waistband of your lace panties.

You bite down your lip when he puts his fingers under his tongue with his mouth sucked around them as he wolf whistles for you.

“Yes you go baby!” He yells at you making you laugh rosying your features and not failing to make you feel tingly under his passionate gaze.

The he looks down at himself in rather pique tugging his tight briefs a little away from suffocating his dick that's swelling up awfully fast and leaking with every graze and touch making him hiss groggily through his teeth loudly.

His reaction makes your cheeks flush and your toes curl against the soft carpet, making you all gooey with your own slick.

He almost looses it when you roll your hips and your tummy ripples raunchily.

You’re taken aback when he’s striding towards you, cupping the nape of your neck roughly and pressing his thumb into your nervy pulse pushing you till you’re pressed into the wall and he’s muffling your surprised squeaks with a big fat smooch to your lips which turns into sloppy heated work of mouths, tongues slick and naughty against eachother, teeth nibbling and teasing, lips too desperate to be parting away and when they do they’re hovering over eachother with their breaths hot and fanning.

“Look at y'being a filthy tease.” He tuts, warm fingertips tickling down your chest and sneaking under his vest to palm your tits as he ducks down to lick a fat stripe up your throat then sink his teeth into soft underbelly of your jaw.

“Now tell me who taught you to dance this good?” Everyone should sit down and takes notes from one and only Harry Styles; the man sure knows how to lie through his teeth because what you pulled moments ago was just clumsy drunk flailing of limbs.

“God gifted.” He chuckles mockingly, tapping your bottom pouty lip.

Your neck stretches far giving him more access to mark you as his’s, your fingers manoeuvring into his sweaty ruffled up curls when he glances up at you intensely with your nipples sucked in his mouth and his hand gliding into your panties – smirking goadingly at the squirm and pathetic gurgle of your tone.

“just like this pussy of yours?”

Except his eyes no blade can control you, no sharpened knife. That lascivious gaze’s enough to threaten a storm up your thighs and cause a rainfall between your legs.

Carefully, he puts his knees on the floor one by one while he paws at your hips to vignette admiring kisses down your midriff.

“Stop! It tickles!” You gasp giggle when his fingers palliates into your soft love-handles nipping and lapping then sponging tender kisses to your belly, your back arching abruptly with a low crack your blunt nails scratching down the wallpaper when Harry coos and spurts noises of admiration.

“Can’t help it, poppet. I love your little belly so much.” Your mouth parts around shallow breaths when he nuzzles his nose against your heat and engulfs into the tangerine smell of your arousal, pressing a kiss to the damp spot and murmuring against it with his calloused palm hardly pressed to your quivering tummy.

“Love feelin’ myself snug in your belly, how it warbles and gurgles fo’ me t’ fill it up with me cum,” His gruff tone sending cold shivers down your spine, making you wetter and slicker, pussy lips clenching around nothing making squelching noises catching Harry’s attention and he smirks ominously -- startling you with a gentle nip to the inside of your thighs then ripping your panties in one harsh tug.

“You love takin’ my cock in this cute belly of yours don’t ye' kitten?” He asks you, eyes glued to the way you melt into his touch when he parts your glistening pulsating folds away with his middle and index, mesmerised at how drippy you’ve managed to get for him as it coats his digits then tricks down his wrist thickly.

“Hmm. Guess like I’ve no option but to treat myself to the sweet pussy of my belly dancer.” He hums roguishly, making you bob your head vigorously and pulling at his hair to nudge him to do something anything to quell this ache that's soaring like a flame in wind making you embarrassingly more slippery every passing second.

Your eyelids skewers tight, fingers falling lip atop the mop of his curls and knees quaking thanks to Harry’s strong biceps straddling you over his shoulders as he spreads your legs wider apart and grips onto your thighs with his all might and strokes his tongue in one tantalising hot lick from all the way to your slit up your pulsing clitoris wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub into a nasty suck and toys it around with his tongue.

“Ha –- H ... Harry!” You whimper out meekly grinding your cunt against the faint stubble growing over his cupid-bow, pleasure spiking into your each pore at how good it feels.

“Mhmm kitten, tell me does daddy makes y'feel good? Warm and nice?” A string of saliva connects his lips and your clitoris. He presses his two fingers to it moving them up and down to lube them then to rub your clit in tight little circles, putting right pressure and attention to it as you cry out slumping against the wall and grabbing onto the nearest furniture with a mantra of harryharryharry booming in your head.

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re so good to me,” You mewl out impishly incasing his head perfectly between your thighs, trembling in his hold when he eases his ring and middle finger inside you gauging for your reactions and carousing in the way your face falls placid into pure bliss, your lips wobbly and the corners of your eyes dotting pink.

“This feels good, moppet?” He asks gruffly curling to caress the spot that sends you into wreck havoc and plunges his fingers deeper inside you, the tip of his nose stuffing into your mound as he licks into you hungrily and sloppily getting his cheeks and chin all messy and shiny with your juices.

“Bet, daddy’s cock feels better. Stuffs y’belly more good.” He growls, the vibrations jolting you in your skin. His fingers fucking into you quicker and deeper, pushing his knuckles to your weepy tight entrance – your cunt swallowing his rings.

Your chin tips up towards the ceiling moaning breathily, thighs trembling and hands gripping his shoulders that’ll leave guaranteed bruises as the ministrations of his mouth and tongue on you, his fingers thrusting in you and his face making a mess out of your drippiness become too much for you sending you into a over drive of buzziness making you lightheaded and floaty.

“C’mon kitten drench me, cum in daddy’s mouth.” Is all it takes for you to do what he asked for and you almost fell forward if not for Harry’s support squirting with loud and wounded moans.

He almost combusts in his pants when you grit carnally riding his face and shoving yourself down into him, not able to stop coming while he encourages you, soothing your aching thighs with gentle strokes, “That’s it baby, atta girl.” And “You did so good f'me kitten, g’na show you how hard ‘m for you.”

"Cute. How bout I fuck you in every one of my outfits?" He pats your cheek, smacking a big kiss to it and doesn't wait for your response before throwing you over his shoulder and landing a stinging slap to your bum.

His dark lustful eyes indicating that he’s not done with you yet.

#harry styles smut #harry styles dirty imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #cute harry #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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neon-junkie · 3 years ago

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White Smoke, Blue Lines

Summary: There are many things that the Jedi Order forbids: Attachments, specifically ones with Clones, and partaking in drugs - both of which you're about to break, when a certain clone helps you obtain the specific herb that you're after.

Pairing: Hardcase x Jedi Reader Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance.

Warnings: Use of Drugs. Tags: Sharing a joint, Mutual pining, Flirting, Teasing, First time, Making out, First kiss, Shotgun kisses, Smut, Oral (receiving), Dirty talk, Grinding. Word count: 7.3k Notes: Personally, I'd like to think that most of the Jedi love getting blazed as fuck, especially Yoda, that little froggy bong-smoking fucker, but logically, they'd say no to drugs. Either way, I just want to share a joint with Hardcase, so here's the fic for it >:)

"Your girlfriend's heading our way, Hardcase," Jesse prods, slapping his brother's arm to get his attention.

"Hey! Wha- she's not my girlfriend," Hardcase huffs, pushing Jesse back, squabbling whilst still on the landing platform.

"Yeah, but you want her to be," Jesse snickers, and Fives joins in, giggling away as the pair begin to bash their skulls together.

You clear your throat, interrupting the presumably playful banter that is going on between two of the 501st boys. The 501st aren't your battalion, but they sure do feel like it, considering almost all of your missions are paired up with General Skywalker's. You have your own men, and he has his, but there's an unspoken agreement that when working together, they're both of your men, and all the clones are content with that.

That being said, you know each of Skywalker's men by name, ranking, personality and whatnot. You've spent the last few years quite literally by their side, squished together on gunships and cruisers, dragging each other from beneath rubble and fallen clankers, and there's even been a few incidents where they've had to carry your injured self from battle. Nasty memories, but you have the 501st to thank as your saviours.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say with a soft laugh, watching as their eyes go wide, locking onto yours. Jesse and Hardcase clear their throats, removing each other from their locked stances, and they straighten their backs as they greet you with a shy "General."

Your gaze turns to Hardcase as you politely ask, "Hardcase, may I have a word alone?"

Jesse begins chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to mute his laughter, but a few snorts slip through. You've overheard Jesse and many others tease Hardcase for his apparent feelings towards you, and although you haven't sensed too much from him, whatever feelings he may have are mutual. However, war and order comes first, and the likelihood of a Clone dating a Jedi is, well... there is no likelihood. It's forbidden. End of debate.

"Uh, of course," Hardcase nods, and follows you from the landing platform, heading towards the Barracks entrance, but not slipping inside. It's quiet here, minus the few clones passing by, unloading the gunships at their own pace.

Your eyes trail around the perimeter before speaking up, not paying any mind to the clones nearby, but assuring that there are no other Jedi in this vicinity. "Hardcase... uh, I was hoping for your assistance in obtaining something," you begin talking, keeping your voice level just above a whisper.

"W-what can I help you with, General?" Hardcase gulps. His hands flex into fists, bunching up at his sides, and he attempts to mute his thoughts, praying that nothing lewd will spring into his mind... again.

"Call me by my name, please, Hardcase. We're off clock, and when it comes to something like this, I'd rather... forget about the Order," you exhale, your gaze finally meeting Hardcase's wide eyes. Nervousness is radiating from him, and it doesn't help that you're prolonging your question, rattling his anxiety as every second passes.

Hardcase mutters your name with a nod, and states that he's "not quite following."

"Before I ask, I just want to explain that I'm approaching you as a friend, and not as a General-" you mumble, prolonging the question even more.

Hardcase nods, and sighs anxiously when you continue rambling. "-And I am coming to you specifically about this because, well, I am under the assumption that you also partake in such activities."

"Please tell me what you're after already!" Hardcase blurts out. Both of your eyes turn wide at his outburst, and he's about to apologize for letting his emotions control his mouth, but you speak up before he can.

"Do you know any dealers?" you finally ask.

Hardcase pauses, still with the same wide-eyed expression. His brow slowly raise as he thinks that he knows what you're on about, but just to be certain, he asks, "dealers... for?"

"Drugs. Weed, specifically," you sheepishly state. "My last one dipped off the radar, I assume he was arrested, but I-"

"I didn't know you smoke," Hardcase softly laughs, flashing you a lop-sided and extremely cheeky grin. You roll your eyes, followed by playfully punching his upper arm, which only causes Hardcase to laugh even more.

"I'm going to take your answer as a 'yes,'" you state, folding your arms and looking up at the clone, who wears his cheeky smile with pride.

"Yeah, I can sort you out," he nods. "I've been buying off the same guy for a while now, but he's weary of strangers. Maybe I could put a good word in first, or-"

"-You could come with me?" you suggest. "To pick up, I mean. That would certainly ease his anxieties."

"Y-yeah, s-sure," Hardcase gulps. His flushed, vibrant red cheeks are hard not to notice, and you're quickly hit with a thick cloud of flustered energy, radiating from him. You've not spent much time around any of the clones outside of work, minus popping by their quarters to pass on information and whatnot, and that one incident where you ran into them at 79's, but that's as good as it gets.

"I'll meet you outside the front of the barracks at 19:00, but around the corner beside that small diner, just to be safe, if that's alright with you?" You question.

"Y-Yeah," Hardcase stutters again, nodding eagerly at your request. "I'll comm my guy and let him know that we're picking up later. He's not too far from here, just a few blocks away."

"Okay," you sweetly smile. "I'll leave you to it, thank you again!" You say your goodbyes, heading in the direction of the temple to continue your chores for the day, leaving Hardcase on the barracks landing platform.

He pinches himself. That just happened, didn't it? That lovely, sweet, and kind General just approached him to ask about drugs? And she trusts him enough to meet up with him, off the clock, and conduct a deal with him?

The trust. Hardcase could go and rat you out to the Order right now. He could knock on the temple's front door, demand to speak to the manager, and tattle on you for partaking in such illegal activities. But he doesn't - why would he?

Hardcase snaps from his daze as he overhears his name being called, and Jesse and Fives appear in his line of sight. Hardcase huffs, knowing what's in store for him, and begins approaching his brothers. They've already stripped themselves from their upper-armour, relaxing in their blacks, now leaving them defenceless from the upcoming brotherly play fight that will no-doubt happen once their teasing has begun.

"What did the General want?" Fives questions as Hardcase approaches, who decides to continue walking into the Barracks, praying that he can drag them back into their quarters fast enough to prevent their teasing. Rex is always there to break up their bickering, especially when it involves certain comments about certain Generals.

"She just asked me about some stuff, nothing important," Hardcase shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand as he walks.

"That's not what it looked like when we walked past," Fives grins.

Jesse joins in on the smirking. "You both looked flustered, but you especially looked like a Cadet attempting to flirt."

"No, no. It wasn't like that-" Hardcase huffs. He debates telling them the truth, considering that they know and also partake in illicit activities, but is it worth the relentless teasing that he will face? Hardcase already knows his answer, and he already knows that his brothers will find out sooner or later - hopefully later when they catch him sneaking out of the Barracks unaccompanied.

"What was it like then?" Jesse raises a brow.

"S-She..." Hardcase stutters, and exhales heavily. He finally admits to the truth, and ensures that his tone of voice is hushed, not wanting anybody to overhear. "She asked me who to get stuff off, so I told her."

"Stuff?" Fives questions.

"He means..." Jesse explains with a wave of his hand.

"Ooooh!"

There's a pause from both of them, and for a brief moment, Hardcase assumes that that's the end of it. But he is unbelievably wrong.

"Wait- The General, a Jedi, asked you for..." Fives coughs. Both his, and Jesse's expression flicks between confused, concerned, and curious, and the pair keep their ears close to Hardcase as he continues explaining what just happened.

"Yeah," he sheepishly nods. "She basically said that she trusts me, and that I look like the kinda guy who knows where to get that stuff, so I said I'd help her out."

"Help her out how?" Jesse questions.

"Well, uh..." Hardcase stutters, rubbing the back of his neck once more. "You know what Dog is like, he's not too fond of strangers-"

"-Yeah, which is why he wouldn't sell to us at first," Jesse states the obvious, and Fives nods in confirmation.

"-So, uh, she's going to come with me later to pick up," Hardcase innocently shrugs. He bites his bottom lip, attempting to focus on walking down the corridor, rather than watching his brother's reactions. It's coming. Hardcase know's it's coming, and when the wave finally hits, it drowns him.

Fives and Jesse scream, instantly jumping on their brother to begin their playful teasing. "You have a date!" They begin barking at him, riling him up, unfazed by the curious onlookers that pass by. "It's a date, our boy Hardcase has a date!" They cheer, and Hardcase, attempting to mute his laughter, eventually pushes both of them off.

"It's not a date!" He instantly begins denying, only to be playfully shoved between both of them as they protest his protests.

"It's a date, Hardcase. You two are meeting up later for a date," Jesse purrs, wrapping his arm around Hardcase's neck as the trio turn the final corner to approach their quarters.

"What are you gonna wear? Something nice?" Fives questions, knowing that they own little to no personal clothing.

"Make sure you shave your balls, chicks love that," Jesse comments, raising a cheeky brow at his brother.

Hardcase finally shoves Jesse off him as he gags at his bold comment. He remains silent, as flustered as ever, quietly wishing that it is a date, rather than him accompanying you to pick up weed. His gaze turns to the quarters' door, and he quickly punches in the code, ensuring that his flustered expression is blocked from his brothers.

However, the second the door opens, Fives pushes him into the room, and proudly announces, "guess who's getting his dick wet later, boys!"

The torment has only just begun...

--------

Hardcase's pace is faster than usual, weaving his way through the endless sea of people that cover Coruscant. The diner is barely five minutes from the Barracks, but Hardcase is running late due to his brothers pestering him non-stop.

Their teasing was ruthless, exactly what you'd expect from a bunch of men, specifically siblings. Even Rex had joined in on the banter, but reminded his men that this definitely isn't a date as such things are forbidden, not to mention consuming drugs. The talk of his 'date' is not to leave the Barracks, and even when it is spoken about, it must be spoken in hushed tones to prevent by-passers overhearing it through the thick walls.

Hardcase tugs at his shirt again, cursing the smaller fit that he's borrowed off Tup. He's slightly thinner than Hardcase, and it seems that he buys his shirts even smaller to ensure that his best features are on display, pressed against the ironed fabric. Hardcase was originally going to meet up with you in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and his suggestion was met with a sea of tears as every single one of his brothers pushed him to wear something enticing.

"It is a date, after all," Dogma chimed in.

"It's not a date," Hardcase had replied. He had reached the point of auto-pilot, automatically reminding everyone that it's not a date whenever he heard those specific words.

His brothers ignored his declines, and collectively agreed that Hardcase is going on a date, whether he sees it as that, or not. They all helped doll him up; Tup loaned his navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows and the top few buttons undone, exposing his collarbones and teasing his toned pecs. Hardcase insisted that he wears black jeans, making his outfit seem more casual, rather than borrowing Dogma's suit pants.

Hardcase is assuming that he'll be back within half an hour, ready to tell his brothers "I told you so," when they ask why his 'date' didn't last long. He huffs to himself, finally reaching the destination, at to his surprise, you're already stood outside.

"There you are," you state as he appears in your line of vision. Hardcase, for once, manges to control his flustered expression as he locks on to what you're wearing; it's nothing fancy, casual attire, but you and Hardcase could easily be mistaken as a couple out on a date.

"Sorry I took so long," Hardcase sighs. "The boys were..."

"-being themselves?" you answer his statement, and he nods awkwardly in agreement. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing far too well how boisterous and bold his brothers are. "Anyway, lead the way," you gesture, and with that, Hardcase begins leading you on the short journey to his dealer's place.

"He doesn't live far from here," Hardcase reassures you, holding his hands up innocently.

"Good, hopefully he lives close to me," you say with a laugh, not wanting to trail too far.

"You mean... the temple?"

"Oh, no. I decided to get my own little apartment nearby. I needed my own space, the temple can feel over-bearing, and it's nice to... not feel like a Jedi, sometimes," you briefly explain, hoping that Hardcase understands your desire for self-isolation.

"Yeah, I can understand that," he shrugs. "At least you're able to get your own place. That sure would... be something," Hardcase sighs.

A gentle hand rests on Hardcase's forearm as he walks, and you give him a soft squeeze, reassuring him as you comment, "you know that I'm not fond of how the Republic treats clones."

"Yeah, I don't think there's many Jedi out there who are," he agrees. Hardcase exhales heavily, feeling your hand disappear from his forearm, and as he leads you down a side street, he decides to swiftly turn the conversation around. "He's just up here, I'll buzz for him to come down," Hardcase explains, and slips his comm link from his pocket, tapping away on the device.

"You know, I was going to suggest you come back to my apartment and share a joint with me. My way of saying thank you for helping me out," you suggest.

Hardcase almost drops his comm link, catching it before it hits the floor, preventing the device from being carelessly trampled on by his own boots. He lightly coughs, and his gaze meets yours as he replies, "we don't have to, I don't mind. I-I mean, I'm always happy to help out-"

"-Hardcase," you cut his babbling off. "I'd love to have a smoke with you, if you'd like to."

This time, Hardcase can't hide his flustered expressions. His cheeks begin contrasting heavily against his bold, blue tattoos, decorating his warm face; his pupils are wide, both with a mixture of nervousness and lust, and his mouth remains parted, forgetting how to breathe. Hardcase is so fixated on the thought of being around you, sharing a joint with you, going back to your apartment, that he doesn't overhear his name being called out, at first.

Hardcase finally snaps out of his startled state to see his dealer approaching, and heavily clearly his throat before introducing you to Dog. He's your stereotypical dealer, attempting to keep the exchange swift and quiet, and seems fond of you when you purchase a hefty amount of weed, wanting to ensure that you have more than enough to last.

Dog exchanges his comm link number with you before dipping off, ensuring that you can pick up off him any time. "Any friend of Hardcase's, is a friend of mine," he states. Huh, yeah. A friend.

Silence fills the air as you overlook the few grams that you've purchased before slipping it into your pocket, turning your gaze to Hardcase, who has zoned out once more. You raise a brow, and Hardcase suddenly remembers that he never answered your offer. "Y-yeah, we can go and share a joint at yours," he eagerly nods, followed by licking his drying lips.

"C'mon then," you playfully nudge, and begin leading the way to your apartment.

----

The journey home is short, filled with Hardcase's rambling rant about how a few of his brothers irritated him on the last series of missions. You questioned what was on his mind, and not wanting to admit the overwhelming array of emotions that he feels towards you, he decided to fill up the silence with bitching instead. It's a win-win; Hardcase gets to let off some steam, and you get to laugh along and enjoy Hardcase's rambling, something that he does when given the opportunity to.

Hardcase, especially now, sometimes forgets your abilities, and just how prominent they truly are. You know exactly how he feels towards you, and now that you're here, entering your apartment with him, you can forget about both of your statuses the second your apartment door closes. Right now, you're two friends hanging out, sitting on the couch after grabbing a drink for both of you.

Using your weed, Hardcase begins rolling a joint, putting his calloused fingers to work. He pauses his work to take a hefty gulp of his drink, parched from earlier when he felt the life draining from him at the idea of going back to yours. However, now that he's actually here, he feels content; maybe it's because your apartment is so welcoming and cosy, or maybe it's because your general presence often soothes him (when it's not riling him up,) but either way, he's finally comfortable.

You put some background music on, just loud enough to sit comfortably in your ears, and Hardcase announces that he's finished rolling. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he playfully states, holding the pristine joint up to your vision.

"Of course, she is. She's your creation," you smile. Hardcase flashes you a playful, puppy-like grin at your compliment, and you laugh at his warm expression. "Spark up," you state, and leave your seat to go and open some windows.

The joint is lit when you return, and your eyes lock onto the thick smoke flocking from Hardcase's lips as you take your seat beside him. "Here," he mutters, passing you the joint. Hardcase lubricates his mouth as you occupy yourself, smoking at your own pace, and the poor man almost spits water on you when he turns to see you exhaling, the cloud of smoke slowly trickling from your lips.

"What?" you question.

"N-Nothing," Hardcase coughs, attempting to clear his throat. "Went down the wrong way," he explains, and you pretend to understand his response. Your Jedi senses picked up the overwhelming attraction Hardcase felt when he locked his sights onto you smoking; you understand the attraction to the act of smoking, but never have you considered that somebody could feel such a way towards you.

That knowledge settles in the back of your mind, ready to be picked up on later on, hopefully when you've attained more confidence and relaxed even more. "Your turn," you state as you pass the joint back, your fingertips brushing against Hardcase's as he takes it from you.

Minutes pass as you two continue sharing the single joint, eventually being stubbed out in your ashtray. "How're you feeling?" Hardcase questions as he relaxes back on your couch, finding comfort in your variety of pillows.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "I completely forgot to ask him what strain of weed this is," you sigh, coming to terms with the fact that you're going into this high blind.

Hardcase picks up the bag of weed on your coffee table, and looks it over before laughing to himself. You raise a brow, and he explains, "I don't know why I'm looking it over. It's not like I can tell."

You chuckle with him, already beginning to feel the swift effects of the mystery strain. Your hand runs through your hair, sweeping a few strands back off your face, and when you look up from the floor, your eyes instantly feel heavy. "Kriff," you curse.

"Good stuff?" Hardcase questions with a light laugh, melting into your couch. You turn to gaze at him, instantly noticing his lopsided smile; a deep red colour appears on his cheeks, and you dread to think what thoughts must be running through his mind if he's blushing at you.

"Yeah, good stuff," you confirm with a nod. Shuffling back onto the couch more, you get comfortable, tucking your legs against the pillows.

"You wanna stretch your legs out?" Hardcase questions, patting his toned thighs, maybe a little too eagerly.

You nod, and prop your legs up on Hardcase's lap, who instantly rests his forearms on top of them. He hands begin playing with the fabric of your pants, fiddling mindlessly, trailing his calloused fingertips up and down your shins. You chuckle at the image, seeing some of yourself in him; Hardcase overhears your laughter, and raises as a brow as he smiles and asks, "what?"

"You're a fidgeter too, huh?" you state.

Hardcase grins as he shakes his head, looking like a happy puppy. "Yeah," he confirms. "I've been told that back on Kamino, my growth chamber leaked. That's why I can never sit still," he shrugs, and adds, "not that I mind."

"I like that," you smile. "I love seeing how different all you clones are. Makes me forget that you're actually clones."

"Yeah, me too," Hardcase sighs. He looks away for a brief moment, silently reminding himself about the situation that he's currently in. As of right now, he's content and calm, enjoying a joint with a Jedi - an odd scenario, but Hardcase is fond of oddities. However, come tomorrow, he'll be back on the field, wiping out clankers with his chaingun; at least he can enjoy this moment before it passes.

"Fancy another?" Hardcase questions as he turns back to you, and smirks as he adds, "if you can handle it."

"Of course, I can handle it. You don't have to baby me," you scoff. "Maybe I should baby you instead, seeing as you're almost falling asleep on my couch," gesturing to Hardcase's extremely cosy state.

"No, I'm not," Hardcase scoffs in return, sitting upright instantly. "Your couch is comfortable," he innocently shrugs, and begins rolling another joint once you've moved your legs off his lap. "And how would you baby me, huh?"

A large, bright, and interesting lightbulb lights up in your mind; you've wanted to break the thick, tense ice between you two for so long, but given the circumstances, you've never been able to. Now is your chance!

"I'll show you how to properly smoke," you flirtatiously smirk.

Hardcase raises a brow as he meets your gaze, and he rolls his eyes at your remark. "I know how to smoke, sweetheart," he sighs, the pet name escaping without him realising. "But go on, let's see what you've got."

"Alright," you nod.

Hardcase rushes to roll the second joint, soon revealing a slightly crinkled joint, but that doesn't make it not smokeable. Rather than lighting it, he passes it to you instead, and watched curiously as you begin sparking up, puffing on the end to get the good stuff flowing. You eventually begin exhaling thick clouds of smoke, blowing them from your vision.

"Ready?" you question, and Hardcase eagerly nods, attempting to bite back on his laughter. He's so smug, certain that there's no way you can smoke better than him, and his smug expression remains as you intake an average amount.

Holding the smoke between your closed lips, you shuffle closer to Hardcase, pressing your thighs together, your shoulders tapping against each other before Hardcase turns his upper body to peer down at you. Your eyes meet his, and since your mouth is occupied and unable to instruct him, you resort to moving him into position.

You lightly grab his chin, and Hardcase follows your movement as you bring his lips towards yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and Hardcase understands what you're signalling for. His lips part slightly, just enough for you to press your lips against his and blow the smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase shudders, and takes his time moving away from your lips to eventually blow out his share of the smoke. A sigh follows behind his exhale, and when he finally turns back to look at you, his eyes are half-lidded, but open enough to show his wide, lustful pupils, decorated by his amber irises.

"Good?" you simply question.

A cheeky grin covers Hardcase's lips as he nods eagerly, but it slips away as fast as it appeared, and he pouts as he replies. "I don't think I got much smoke, you'll have to try again."

You giggle, and Hardcase joins in, almost patting himself on the back for his boldly flirtatious comment. "Alright," you agree. The joint is pressed to your lips again, and you inhale heavily, holding the smoke in your mouth as you signal for Hardcase to get into position. He's cheekily grinning as he parts his lips, pressing them lightly to yours, and his eyes flutter shut as you begin blowing smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase can't help but swiftly kiss you before pulling away, turning his head in the other direction to exhale the smoke. He's grinning again as he turns back to you, his tattoos slowly turning purple as his cheeks begin turning up. "My turn," he chuckles, and takes the joint from your grasp.

Hardcase repeats your fluid movements, and he's now plucked up the courage to hold your jawline in the palm of his hand as he dips his head down to kiss you. This is definitely a kiss with smoke trailing between your lips; you don't even bother inhaling, watching through slowly-shutting eyes as the smoke disappears between kisses, fanning out into the room.

The smoke soon leaves, and you're still locking lips with Hardcase, feeling the faint, light stubble of his facial hair on your upper lip. His soft kisses quickly become firmer, desperate, hungry, and the hand that was once on your jaw slides up to entwine in your hair. You're not sure if Hardcase is a naturally good kisser, or if the weed in your system is making you more sensitive than usual, a burn forming between your thighs as the kiss deepens once more.

Boldly, you break the kiss and pluck the joint from between Hardcase's fingers, stubbing it out in your ashtray. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, introducing your crotch to his growing erection. He's still smirking, and his smile remains as he pulls you down to kiss him once more, this time with added mewls and moans, escaping whenever your lips slightly part.

"Hardcase?" you call out between kisses, and Hardcase lets out a softly grunted, "huh?" when you call his name.

"I wanna know something," you continue, your tone of voice thick with lust.

"Oh yeah? What?" Hardcase raises a brow, breaking the kiss so he can gaze up at you with his slightly red eyes.

"Do your tattoos cover all of your body?" you question, and instantly, Hardcase begins chuckling at your words.

"Why don't you find out for yourself, sweetheart?" he invites you in. You lick your lips as your hands move from his shoulders, finding the buttons on his shirt, and at an agonizingly slow pace, you begin unfastening each of them. Hardcase almost rips the shirt off once it's finally unfastened, discarding it on the other side of your couch, revealing his delicious form.

Hardcase is a meal of a man, toned from years of work and fighting. His tanned skin looks lush, contrasting against his blue tattoos that continue over his chest and arms, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Your hands begin trailing over each line, admiring the flawless line work; they hook around the waistband of his pants, and your eyes meet Hardcase's as you continue talking.

"Can I take these off?" you question.

Hardcase playfully tuts as his hands find your waist, kneading at the fabric of your shirt. "Not until this comes off. Fair's fair, right?"

"Of course," you agree with a nod. This time, Hardcase is the one gawking over his form once your top comes off; his hands follow the flow of your body, every dip and crevice, every curve and bump. Just when he thinks this day couldn't get any better, you smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it slip down over your shoulders.

Hardcase's face literally lights up, grinning playfully as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. "Mesh'laaaa," he slurs his words, followed by mumbling a series of phrases in Mando'a, and you can only assume that from his given expression, they're all words of affection. Hardcase, whilst still smiling, dips his head down to latch his mouth onto a nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud and sucking gently. He kisses along your chest when switching between each nipple, and rolls his hips as a way of encouraging you to get closer.

Slowly and softly, you begin rutting your hips, grinding down against his growing erection. Hardcase begins letting out the softest of moans, sucking on your nipples more firmly, his hands tightening their grip around your waist. "Karking hell," Hardcase grunts, moving his lips from your breasts to look up at you. "These have got to come off, please?" he both asks and suggests.

You swiftly nod, shuffling off Hardcase's lap. You undo your pants, shimmying them down to your ankles, and step out of them, leaving you almost bare. Hardcase goes to reach out, to grab you once again, but you tut and offer him your hand instead. "Are you coming?" you offer, and Hardcase swiftly grabs your hand before you can even finish your question.

You begin leading him towards your bedroom, your hand slipping from his as Hardcase shuffles out of his pants. He almost trips over his pants legs as he kicks them off, leaving them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His tattoos do continue even lower, partially hidden under his boxers, but you'll soon see for yourself.

You sit on the edge of the bed, offering your hand out once more to drag Hardcase on with you, but he rejects your offer. Whilst shaking his head, Hardcase settles onto his knees, his hands finding your thighs as he hungrily spreads them apart. Oh. He groans at the sight of your spread legs, despite still having panties on; you're uncertain if it's the weed effects taking place, or if Hardcase really is working this fast, but he rushes to kiss down both of your thighs, stopping just before your cunt and moving cheekily onto the other one. He's teasing you, but it's clear that his patience is running thin.

Hardcase groans as he finally licks a firm stripe over your clothed cunt, faintly tasting your slick through the thin fabric. He repeats the motion a few more times, teasing himself more than you, and swiftly decides that he needs your underwear off. Now. They're quickly removed, tossed onto the floor that he's settled on, and once again, Hardcase is the one groaning as he finally begins lapping at your folds.

Everything feels so rushed, your head spinning ever so slightly as you lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling between your fluttering lashes. Hardcase is a messy eater, unfazed by the sounds of wetness and slurping, lapping at your cunt like a starving man. He flicks between a series of motions, but always ensures that when he sucks your clit, he does it hard, chuckling to himself as you begin squirming on the bed from his actions.

"So karking good," Hardcase mumbles against you. "I can't believe I've finally got my head between your thighs," he groans, and slips his tongue into your entrance, tongue-fucking you a few times before deciding that you deserve something firmer to fill you up. You're unbelievably soaked, more than slick enough to fit two of Hardcase's thick fingers, pushing them slowly until he reaches his knuckles.

With his lips around your clit, Hardcase begins pumping his fingers, curling them to ensure that they brush against your g-spot with every thrust. You don't even realise that he's shaking at first, until you prop yourself up onto your elbows to notice that his other hand is moving rapidly. Hardcase has managed to free his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusting fingers.

His cock is gorgeous, girthy with a blue stripe running down the middle. Hardcase notices you staring and raises a playful brow, only for his expression to turn into concern as you smirk maliciously. Without saying a word, you raise your hand, and use your special abilities to begin jerking Hardcase's cock for him. He's forced to move his lips off your cunt, letting out a heavy groan as you begin jerking his cock.

"Karking hell!" Hardcase yelps, moaning hungrily as you pump his length. "I always forget you have those abilities," he chuckles, and returns to eating your pussy. Despite being occupied, his own words sink into his mind even deeper - you're a Jedi. He's hooking up with a Jedi. Hardcase is the lucky Clone who gets to enjoy seeing what else you can do with your Jedi powers. Kriff.

You sense the realisation from Hardcase, his thoughts barely clouded from the smoke that's still lingering in his system. You've become swiftly adjusted to the sensation of being high, but now that those thoughts are present, you realise how utterly blazed you are. Your head is, thankfully, no longer spinning, but your eyes are half-lidded, and you're almost constantly grinning, giving away your dazed state. Hardcase is the same, finally relaxing as smugness takes over, proud of himself for achieving such an unimaginable goal.

"Ughh," Hardcase grumbles against your folds. "Taste so good, you feel so good around my cock too! Well, I mean your... uh, the force feels good?" Hardcase stutters, raising a brow as he attempts to explain the new sensations washing over him.

"Why don't you come up here, and find out how good I feel around your cock?" you flirt.

Hardcase grins, scrambling up to his feet. He shuffles up onto the bed, toned arms resting on either side of your head, pinning you beneath him. Your juices are all over his chin, his blue tattoos glistening whenever the street lights through your bedroom window hit his face at the right angle. With a laugh, you clean him up, and the second you're done, he dips his head down to crash his lips against yours.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, admiring how toned and defined he is. Hardcase is softly mewling between kisses, expressing his hunger and desperation for you. He begins grinding his solid length against your folds, slicking himself up, but teasing himself more than he's teasing you. Either he's naturally sensitive, or the weed has cranked his sensitivity levels up tenfold.

Hardcase begins angling his hips, attempting to catch your pussy at the right angle and push his cock in; he breaks the kiss in order to concentrate, refusing to give up on his desires. Eventually, Hardcase manages, and lets out a heavy moan as he finally pushes himself into your tight cunt.

"Heh, no hands," Hardcase chuckles once he's fully sheathed. He holds himself there, and you're uncertain if it's because he's letting you adjust to his size, or because he needs a moment to collect himself. Both, possibly? Given his calming expression.

You swiftly grow impatient, and lock onto his gaze as you groan, "Hardcase, move."

"Yes, General," Hardcase cheekily replies, and you roll your eyes at his audacity.

But that playfully frustrated expression on your face is quickly wiped away, your brows turning upwards, and your mouth parting as Hardcase begins thrusting himself deep into you. He's girthy, stretching your walls with every thrust, filling you up with no room to spare. Hardcase seems to be moaning than you are, possibly, it's hard to tell, given your stoned state, and the fact that you're moaning just as loud.

Hardcase's thrusts are delicious, firm and fast, slowly bruising your inner thighs; you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing over, and lightly grind your heel into his lower back as a way of spurring him on. Hardcase chuckles, and comments, "needy thing," before following your order and slamming into you even harder.

You're moaning way too loud, certain that you'll receive a noise complaint tomorrow. Whatever. You remind yourself that you don't care, that you need this, that you've been pining after this Clone for way too long. He's not letting you down, he never has, despite not being in your ranks. No doubt, you'll spend the next few days walking funny, receiving concerned expressions from Jedi and Clones alike; it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, since Hardcase will definitely be walking with a limp.

Hardcase dips his head down, leaving purple marks along your collarbone. He's muttering between kisses, barely audible through his heavy breaths as he continues slamming into you. "C-Can't believe we're doing this," he grunts. "Been after you for so long, so kriffing long. You have no idea!"

You let out a soft laugh, "you don't exactly keep your feelings hidden."

Hardcase's cock comes to a halt, twitching deep inside you. He props himself up on his forearms, peering down at you as he asks, "you knew?"

"Everybody knows," you chuckle. You pull his head down for a kiss, reassuring him that the feelings are mutual. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't feel the same," you mutter against his lips.

Hardcase breaks the kiss, raising a brow as he jokingly replies, "you wouldn't be here? But this is your apartment-"

His words are cut off as you let out a laugh, and Hardcase laughs along with you, soon returning his lips to yours. He has you pinned perfectly to the bed, his hips rolling ever so slightly as he introduces his tongue to yours, swallowing down your moans whenever the kiss briefly breaks.

As Hardcase pulls away from the kiss, he slips his cock from your slickness, and lets out a grunt as he pushes himself up onto his knees. He eagerly pats the bed as he orders, "on your hands and knees, sweetheart."

Whilst smirking at him, you shuffle into the new position, peering over your shoulder once ready. Hardcase licks his lips at the sight, his large hands kneading as your ass, enjoying everything you have to offer. He spends a few moments simply playing with your ass, one hand moving from the mound of flesh to run his thumb over your folds, finding your clit and grinding over it.

"Hardcase," you mutter.

"I know, I know," he chuckles as he moves his hands away, lining himself up. "Hard not to do that, you just look so good," he grunts, and finally begins pushing into you again.

A firm pair of hands find your hips, wrapping around them, holding you tightly. Hardcase jumps back into his rushed pace, eager to feel your walls fluttering around his cock once more. His whines and moans start up again, matching your own, the sound of skin against skin echoes around the room.

Hardcase begins muttering sweet praise, "sweet girl, my perfect girl, so karking tight around me-" he lets out a grunt. "Kriff, I'm not gonna last long, babe," Hardcase informs you.

You reach down between your thighs, fingertips about to touch your clit, but Hardcase chuckles as he redirects your hands. "Here, let me," he says with a smile. Hardcase wraps his large palm around both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back, your head dropping onto the duvet. His other hand slips beneath you, firm fingertips begin rubbing eagerly at your clit.

Needless to say, Hardcase has a lot on his plate, and his thrusts become somewhat sloppy, but more than enough to get you off. "Come on, girl, cum on this cock," Hardcase instructs through gritted teeth. His cock begins twitching inside you, an orgasm sitting on the edge, but like the gentleman that he is, he waits for you to hit peak first.

You cry out his name, part of your words muffled from your face being smothered against the duvet. Your orgasm finally hits, your walls clenching tightly around Hardcase's thick length. He grunts, and swiftly removes his hands from you, rushing to pull out his length. His release lands on your back, grunting and sighing heavily as he paints you white.

"Kriff, oh, babe," Hardcase sighs, jerking his length slowly to push his final drops of cum onto your bare body. "Wait here," he mutters, and rushes to climb off the bed. Hardcase almost trips over his own feet, his legs turning into jelly in his post-orgasm phase, along with whatever weed is still pumping throughout his body.

Hardcase returns moments later with a damp towel, and cleans you up whilst humming playfully. He lands a light slap on your rear as he announces, "done!"

You roll onto your back, star fishing on your bed; your chest is rising and falling heavily, matching Hardcase's deep breaths, who joins you on the bed after tidying himself up. He's slightly sweaty from his workout, but still wears that usual cheeky grip as he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, looking down at you.

"Did you have fun?" Hardcase asks, the audacity.

You roll your eyes, laughing lightly as your hand moves up to wrap around his neck. "Come here, you," you flirt, and pull him down into a tender kiss, reassuring him that you definitely had fun.

Hardcase's hand finds your waist, fingertips running along your skin whilst he shares a tender moment with you. The kiss isn't rushed and heated like earlier, but soft and loving, warming your chest, and sending shivers along your skin. As it breaks, Hardcase flashes you a grin, then kisses the tip of your nose before falling back on your pillows.

"C'mere," he mutters, waving his hand. You follow his lead, settling in the curve of his neck, sprawling yourself over him whilst still regaining your breath. There's silence for a while, a welcoming silence, shared between two people who have finally broken the ice. Hardcase eventually fills up the silence as he asks, "you'll let me take you out for dinner some time, won't you?"

You move your head off his chest, peering up to see his warm brown pleading eyes, his bottom lip slightly sticking out. "Yeah, of course, I will," you agree with a sweet smile.

Hardcase hums happily as he places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand moving up to direct your head back onto his chest. Neither of you say anything after that, content with the silence that once again fills the room, later complimented by light snores as you both drift off to sleep.

#drugs tw #weed tw #swwriting #tcwwriting #white smoke blue lines #clone trooper hardcase #hardcase x reader #female reader #nsft #smut #the clone wars #star wars #hardcase x you #tcw #f!reader #clone hardcase x reader

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grasslandgirl · 3 years ago

Text

casey shouldn’t be allowed to rec things to me anymore bc she knows me and my tastes TOO WELL at this point and then does something like friend-bullies me into playing a video game that is rotting my fucking skull its TOO savcore she knows me TOO WELL

list of thoughts that are rattling around in my brain bc of this Video Game

- hands

- gay people

- time loop media

- names vs nicknames vs titles (in a literal sense) vs titles (in a narrative sense)

- the big guy his little face magnus burnsides character archetype

- the fucked up gender dude w eye shit and suicidal ideation character archetype

- genre awareness

- sav projection character

- found family

- the power of love (and when it fails)

- hands again (in the context of fights vs a kind touch vs the concept of reaching out)

- how a time loop Changes You

- change as a THEME in GENERAL

- sense of Otherness within and because of the narrative

- NARRATIVE AWARENESS

- hands again but louder (gloves gloves gloves gloves gloves. #1 way to make me insane abt a character? put them in gloves)

- character memory vs game memory vs player/audience memory (what does the game remember that you dont? what has the character forgotten because of YOU? what does the character REMEMBER because of you? what does the game)

- he is my big little guy i want to hold him i want to hold his hand i want to watch the hand hold scene over and over again

- name meanings

- the power of both Knowing and Using a name (whats the difference? which is right? which is more powerful? when?)

- what is the title and what is the character and what is the archetype and what is the Self and who gets to choose which is which and did they choose their titles and when and why

- who did they save and why and how and how did it change the dynamics

- when the main character isn’t the protagonist, and when the protagonist isn’t the main character (these are different)

- when the narrator isn’t the protagonist or the main character

- the Game is Paying Attention

- sav projection character again, but sad this time

- (sav can have a little projection. sav can have a little hope that people will see and people will notice and people will reach out and people will wait and people will care.)

- the characters are Paying Attention

- when the right choices are the wrong ones

- when the wrong choices are the right ones

- litanies. the power of repeating (a phrase a day a moment a touch a day a life a journey a death- over and over and over and)

- are you paying attention?

- breath. oh. ah. you take a breath. moments where the character breathes (and you read it and you remember you’re breathing, and you inhale exhale with them and oh. oh.)

- as always,

- hands (nail polish)

- rest. when does a character rest. do they ever get to.

- every story is a circle and the characters are the ghosts. this is a haunted house and you’re inside it too

- time loop as corruption vs time loop as labyrinth (go read over & through. iykyk)

- everything repeats (except when it doesn’t) everything is the same (except when it isn’t) you’re making the right choices (but what happens when there’s a new outcome?)

- is it even a new outcome at all? or do you just not remember?

- calroy steak man legs

- a whole grilled fish head raw dogging it in the kid’s pocket (lots of crumbs)

- star over. start again. start over. start again. the game keeps going.

- a PROLOGUE. ITS A PROLOGUE. ITS ALLLLLL A PROLOGUE.

- AS. ALWAYS. (being familiar doesn’t change it. remembering doesn’t change it. being the same doesn’t bring comfort.)

- people notice and people care and they’ll help if you let them

- (will you let them? will they try to help, next time? what if, one day, they don’t try? what if they don’t notice)

- (what if they notice when you don’t want them to?)

- why are you lying. why are you running. they’re your friends. going faster isn’t going to make it faster. why are you here. when did it start.

- Normal. you’re being Normal

- you don’t remember the last time you cried. or ate. or laughed. or slept. (you dont remember)

- (youdontrememberyoudontrememberyoudontremember)

- all the statues of change are broken. why. why is there one that isn’t?

- hands. you want to hold their hands. you don’t ask. his palms are sweaty. hers are calloused against your cheek. you let go, one finger at a time. you forgot you forgot you forgot

- just a lil guy with a lil face just a whole lot of little guys

- im normal about a video game

#NORMAL IM FEELING VERY NORMAL #sasasap #video game. this is a video game.#im putting this here bc chlo and casey are asleep and its 1am and my brain is full of hornets #but. anyway. HRGHRHFHFGHRHFHGRRGHGRHGHRFHGHR #apologies that this doesnt make sense. im sleepy and im having too many thoughts atm #fighter [handshake] olu = Guy With A Crush #jim [handshake] sif = yeah #sasasap + o&t is smth that can be SOOOOO crunchy to casey and i and casey and i ALONE. sif corruption is soososoosooooo #but ALSO? sif apotheosis. C R U N C H Y

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years ago

Link

Rating: T (for inherent neutral ending angst)

Summary: Toriel's old house feels like a mausoleum. She will gladly ignore chisp crumbs and lumpy mattresses for a place that feels more like home. (Queen Toriel ending fic for Soriel Week 2021.)

Word Count: 5211

XXX

The bedroom was exactly how she left it. Her bed pushed up against the gray wall. A book about snails on the wooden desk. A knit sweater with the embroidered words "Mrs. Mom Lady" in the wardrobe.

Even after all this time, she could barely look at it without her soul splitting in two.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She hadn't seen this house in over a century. Still, she wasn't prepared for how Asgore had sealed up her old room like a tomb, a photograph of the day that everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

At least the last child was safe. They should not have had to take a life to save their own, but she doubted Asgore had given them a choice. Her own soul felt more numb than anything. To her, Asgore had died a century ago.

What was done, was done. And as usual, she was too late to do anything but sweep up the dust.

She backed through the doorframe, shutting the door with a quiet click. She would have to return eventually, but for now, she yearned for a place with fewer painful memories.

"Hey, Your Majesty." A voice startled her as she attempted to escape the foyer. Luckily it was a voice she would always recognize.

"Hello, old friend." She turned and smiled at the monster leaning against the stair railing.

He was smaller than she expected, with that deep voice. Not that that was a bad thing. As for him being a skeleton, that had been apparent from the abundance of bone puns.

"You know the formality is unnecessary," she told him softly.

"Is it?" He shuffled from foot to slippered foot.

In all her time of joking with him through the door, she had never expected him to be so cute.

"Didn't want to assume, old lady."

He winked, and she felt a weight lift from her chest. At least one monster would still treat her like a person, and not like a mythical figure returned to save them.

"Toriel," she introduced herself for the first time. He had to have heard already, but between rushing to the palace, scattering Asgore's dust, comforting their—her people… she hadn't had time to seek out her friend.

He seemed to feel comfortable walking right into her home, though. Did he ever visit Asgore when he was here? Her friend seemed like the type of monster who went wherever he felt like, and Asgore, for all his flaws, had never turned a monster away from his home.

"Sans." He held out a bony hand. "Sans the skeleton."

"Nice to meet you, Sans," she tested out the name and clasped his hand with her paw.

A loud pthbbbbbt echoed through the empty hall. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, Toriel. That's, uh, some way to make an introduction." He winked.

She squinted down at the inflatable object in his hand, the source of the farting noise. Then she pretended to ignore it.

"It certainly is. I was not aware that skeletons were capable of flatulence."

His eyelights gutted for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Your jokes are even better in person," he said once he composed himself.

His laugh set her soul fluttering. In all their conversations through the door, he'd never laughed like that. Maybe she should have tried fart jokes sooner.

"I am always happy to tickle your funny bone." She smiled, and his face tinged blue.

"Happy to be tickled. But, uh. I guess that's not all I'm here for?"

Her breath caught in her lungs. Of course he would not visit without a reason.

"I suppose not. Would you like to have a seat?"

"It's nothing that serious," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you'd want an update on the kid."

"You've spoken with them? They are still here?" She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

How could they have taken Asgore’s soul and not returned home? Had the Barrier proven too powerful?

"No—geez, I'm making this sound worse." He ran a bony palm down his face. "They’re definitely gone. Papyrus tried to call them nonstop. Besides that, you know the big stuff. The king's dead."

Her lips drew to a thin line, pulling tight across her fangs.

"I can hardly fault them for that."

"Right." He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "I gotta be honest. The way the kid looked when I last saw them… I don't think they did it."

Her brow furrowed. She was inclined to hope that the child had not chosen violence. They had been so sweet, so eager to talk and joke with the monsters of the Ruins, so quick to hug her even after she’d fought them. It was hard to imagine them striking down Asgore.

"But… then what do you think happened?"

Sans shrugged. "Wish I knew. I kept watch best I could, but…"

"I could not expect you to come between them and your king." As much as she wished he could have. She had hardly expected him to agree to watch over the human at all.

“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to. These bones aren’t as sturdy as they look. Maybe I shoulda listened to my bro and drank more milk...” He grimaced and glanced away. “Anyway. Like I said, I don’t know what happened. Just. Be careful, okay?”

“Careful?” She blinked.

“Yeah. You never know.” His gaze flickered to a potted golden flower on the end table next to the stairs.

“Sans. If I did not know better, that would sound like a threat.” She crouched down, so she could better meet his eyesockets. “Is there something you are trying to tell me?”

“Man. First I rip one in front of a lady, then I threaten her. I’m makin’ a great first impression.” He rocked back and forth on his slippers. “Look. Toriel. I don’t wanna scare you, ‘specially since today must’ve been hard. Real hard.”

His eyelights bored into her irises. She found herself needing to look away.

“It has certainly been… interesting. Moreso than any day since I last saw this place.” She suppressed a shudder.

Change. Her life had been constant for so long. There would be no more of that, now. Hopefully that would be for the better, but only time would tell.

“Yeah. Being flung away from everything you’re used to… don’t imagine that’s a cakewalk. Don’t want you to worry about freaks hiding in the shadows on top of that.”

Somehow, she felt he made more sense when he was on the other side of a door. Knock-knock jokes had a formula. Just another normalcy she had forfeited, she supposed.

“Please, Sans. If you believe I am in danger, you may say so.”

“Fine. So.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help a snort.

“Alright, I suppose I walked into that one.” She smiled, despite his warning. “Under normal circumstances, I would say I could handle myself. But I must admit you are more updated on the state of the kingdom than I. Do you have any information that could help?”

“...Not really?” His grin turned sheepish. “You look like a tough lady. I bet my bones are rattling over nothing.”

“I would still humer-us you.”

He gave her a funny look. “You’re actually taking me seriously?”

“Why would I not? You are my friend. Perhaps… my only friend, at this point,” she admitted. It would be foolish to ignore a warning, even if it was based on gut feeling. Or, whatever skeletons had in place of a gut.

“Well. Uh. If someone, something, was behind the king’s… yeah. If it wasn’t the kid, whoever else it was might still be around. So.” He coughed. “Sounds stupid when I say it like that, huh.”

“It does not. I think it is sweet that you are worried.” He wouldn’t be able to see her blush, thankfully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her.

“Geez, Toriel.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation? Are you typically a monster with a heart of bone?” she teased.

“Nah. I just don’t worry. Too much work.” It was difficult to tell if he was joking. “Guess I can make an exception this once, though.”

“Why, thank you, my friend.” She had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. It would be more for her own comfort than his, so she did not act on it. “To be honest, your words are a relief. I do not mind the excuse to avoid this place.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She both did, and did not. How could she explain without sounding like a clinging child?

...Perhaps that was the wrong metaphor. She would have preferred her children to be a little clingier.

“‘Cause, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of mess… my door’s always open.”

She blinked at the offer. Had he felt the thoughts stirring in her soul?

She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. And she had told him the truth: there were unlikely to be any other monsters she knew still around. Perhaps Gerson; she and Asgore had always joked that he would outlive them.

That joke seemed awfully morbid now.

“Sorry. Was that too forward? Our friendship’s built off closed doors; guess we should just take 'em one at a—"

"No," she interjected too forcefully. “No. I would love to visit your home.”

Though she had never set foot there, she already suspected it would feel more like a home than this place.

“You really—? Great.” His skull tinged the faintest blue. “Just, uh, know that it’s nothing fancy.”

Toriel smiled. “‘Nothing fancy’ sounds wonderful at the moment.”

Perhaps wherever he lived would be out of the way enough that news of her return would be delayed. If she could be lucky enough to pass for an ordinary monster… well, that was likely too much to wish for. It certainly wasn’t becoming of a queen to hide from her subjects.

Stars, there was so much to get used to. So many formalities to reacquaint herself with. She hoped such things would wait until tomorrow.

Sans returned her smile.

“In that case, I know a shortcut.”

XXX

She handled the shortcut well for a first-timer. No stumbling on the other end, no complaints of nausea or dizziness. Of course, she was a Queen. A Boss Monster. Why would a magic trick ruin her composure?

Sans wanted to laugh. All this time, he'd been joking with the Queen. She didn't seem to mind, but she could just be “humerus”ing him.

...Nah. She had every excuse to ignore him if she really wanted to. Instead she'd actually taken him up on his offer.

He almost forgot to drop her hand once their feet landed in the soft snow. Heh. Who was he kidding? It was just nice to feel her fur under his fingers. To touch her, and know that she was real.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting the gyftmas lights strung haphazardly around the house's columns. "I remember this place!"

"You do?" Sans's browbone furrowed.

"I saw it while travelling from the Ruins to…" she trailed off. To stop the kid from fighting Asgore.

Sans felt stupid for not trying to stop them himself. Not that a kid that determined would’ve listened, anyway. Still… he’d believed in them. Hoped that by some miracle, they’d get ‘em out of this mess.

Heh. That was too much pressure to put on a kid, even a determined one.

"Yeah." He coughed quietly. "Guess we're hard to miss. Papyrus did something to the Gyftmas lights—even when the CORE lights go out for the night, ours stay on. Never figured out how he pulled that off."

Toriel laughed before seeming to realize something.

"I will get to meet your brother!" She clasped her hands together. "I wish it had not come about for such an unhappy reason, but I am excited nonetheless."

He chuckled. Her excitement was contagious. That was something she and Papyrus had in common already.

He pushed the door open, called out for his brother—and noticed the monster sprawled out on his couch.

"Oh." Sans blinked at Undyne, who was snoring so loudly, he should've heard it from outside. Guess he'd been a little distracted. "Uh. This is awkward."

"What is it?" Toriel hung back, her head ducking through the doorframe. "Is your brother sleeping? I would not wish to wake him. You said he rarely sleeps, did you not?"

"Nah, it's not him. Forgot his pal's house burned down. Actually, I'm sure you met her. Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"I… yes, we met." Toriel edged inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "She looks far more peaceful now than she did this morning. From what I understand, my ex-husband was something of a father to her."

"Something like that." Sans nodded in agreement. There hadn't even been a Royal Guard until Asgore created the position for her. Sans wondered if Toriel would keep it around now that Asgore was gone.

Welp. It wouldn't hurt, what with his suspicions about Papyrus's friend "Flowery."

(Maybe Sans should let Toriel sleep on the top floor rather than the couch anyway. No dirt for stray flowers to get into up there.)

"Should we be staring?" Toriel said with a soft chuckle.

Sans shook his thoughts away. "Sorry. Just thinking. I, uh…"

There wasn't room on the top floor. Sans's lumpy, crumb-dusted mattress was out of the question. That left only Papyrus's bed, which while rarely in use, had too much sentimental value to give to Toriel without asking. Where was Papyrus, anyway?

"Undyne!" His brother practically kicked in the door. "I have returned with nutritious—oh!"

Papyrus's sockets blinked at Toriel. Then at Sans. Then at Toriel again.

(Undyne let out another loud snore.)

"Sans?” Papyrus dropped his groceries on the table next to the pet rock. “Why didn't you tell me we had another guest??"

Because he was an idiot who hadn't planned past one impulsive offer. His face went a little blue.

"I guest you would figure it out," he managed to joke.

Toriel let out a bleating laugh at that. The suddenness of it was enough to jolt Undyne awake.

"NGAHH!!" She tried to leap off the couch, but ended up rolling onto the floor. "I'm here, Asgore! I won't—oh."

Her single eye blinked up at Toriel.

"Papyrus?" Undyne hissed through her teeth. "Why didn't you tell me the Queen was coming??"

"Because I didn't know!" Papyrus replied brightly.

"I, uh, promise I'm usually more professional than this." Undyne summoned an energy spear and used it to push herself to her feet. The attack left a small char mark on the carpet. "I am at your service, Your Majesty."

Sans thought she looked real professional in a pair of Papyrus's MTT-brand crop top pajamas. Toriel didn't comment on that though, instead opting for a matronly smile.

"There is no need for that, Captain. I am not here on business, but as a friend."

That smile turned towards Sans, and he fought back a blush.

"Yeah. I was just gonna, uh, make some dinner. Y'know, welcome our queen back with some Snowdin hospitality."

"Dinner?" Papyrus squinted suspiciously. "You don't cook dinner. I cook dinner."

"First time for everything, right?" Sans winked to hide his embarrassment.

Of course Papyrus wouldn't buy his excuse. But he really didn't want his brother and Undyne worrying on top of Toriel. Granted, it was Undyne's job to worry about security threats… but she'd tear up the house's foundation if she thought an enemy might be hiding anywhere in a five-mile radius.

"Sans," Toriel chided him. "You do not owe me that."

"Wowie! You must be a great influence on him, Bald Asgore!"

Toriel blinked before bursting out laughing. Sans's grin widened.

"Her name is Toriel, bro."

"Of course!! Where are my manners?" Papyrus bustled past him to shake Toriel's paws. "I am the Great Papyrus! It's an honor to meet you, Queen Toriel!"

"The honor is mine. Sans has told me so much about you," she said, and Papyrus blushed pink.

"You? Know the new queen?" Undyne whispered to Sans while Papyrus and Toriel got acquainted.

"You know me. I know everyone." He winked.

"She came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. My bro and I know what that's like."

Undyne huffed, but Sans didn't offer a more thorough explanation.

Papyrus's affronted shout signalled that Toriel had dropped her first pun.

"I take it back! This is the worst day of my life!!"

Sans met Toriel's eyes, and they both laughed.

"I suppose I will have to help Sans in the kitchen as my pun-ishment," she said with a coy wink.

"Normally I would object to a guest cooking, but in this case I will make an exception!" Papyrus turned on his heel and grabbed Undyne's arm. "We will clean up the living room in the meantime! Try not to corrupt the queen any further, Sans!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, bro."

He gave a quick wink to Toriel behind Papyrus's back, and they moved to the kitchen.

"Did I actually upset him…?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

"Nah. He's just dramatic like that. He'll drop three puns per sentence when he thinks I'm not listening."

He turned away, rummaging through the fridge for something edible they could cook. Discreetly, he tucked his empty chisp bag behind Papyrus’s spaghetti-filled tupperware.

“Oh, good. I would not want to make a bad first impression.”

“Pfft. You’d have to try real hard to do that, Tori. My bro sees the best in everyone.” He smiled and pulled a “pupperoni” pizza out of the freezer. It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it would be edible.

He turned around, pizza in hand, and found Toriel staring at him oddly.

“What?” His sockets widened. “Uh, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She shook her head quickly, her gaze skimming off of his like oil from water.

“Pizza sounds lovely. It has been quite some time since I had one.”

Sans didn’t pry, but he couldn’t help wondering what her expression had meant. Had he said something weird?

...Oh. He’d called her Tori, hadn’t he? He should know better than to use nicknames without asking. Papyrus hated them.

“Please, allow me.” She held out her paws, so she couldn’t be too upset.

He handed over the pizza, and he jumped when fire flared to life in her palms. For a moment he thought the fire would scorch the pizza beyond recognition, but the flames were just pleasantly warm. He’d never known a monster other than Grillby to have such careful control of fire magic.

“Heh. I didn’t know you were so hot, Toriel.”

As soon as he said it, he clamped his jaw shut. Geez, how stupid could he be? Making bad jokes was one thing, but flirting with bad jokes?

The fire went out. She looked up abruptly—er, looked away from the pizza. He was still a good two feet shorter than her.

“Tori was fine,” she said, her voice soft.

“Uh,” he replied intelligently.

She suppressed a giggle, and he was pretty sure his face burned hotter than her fire had. He could stand to take notes from Alphys and throw himself in the trash.

“Or not. Whatever is comfortable for you,” she reassured him. “Now, should we eat dinner before it gets cold?”

Eating was hardly something he could screw up at.

“Sure,” then after a pause, he tested, “Tori.”

Forget her fire magic. Her smile could’ve heated the pizza all on its own.

XXX

For once in a hundred years, dinner was a warm and energetic affair. In addition to the pizza, Papyrus had tossed together a salad from his fresh groceries, and Sans had briefly stepped out to grab a few orders of wings and fries. In the end there was plenty of food for four hungry monsters.

Papyrus apologized for the lack of seating, but Toriel didn’t mind sitting on the couch squeezed between Sans and Undyne, eating off of paper plates. She couldn’t imagine anywhere she would have felt more comfortable.

Before long, though, the day’s fatigue caught up with her. She supposed it was to be expected—she wouldn’t regain her social stamina all at once.

Sans caught her eye, and he nodded towards the stairs as Undyne and Papyrus “owned” each other in an MTT-Brand fighting game.

“Sorry. I know they can be a bit much.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.

“They’re lovely. I wish I had the energy to keep up with them.” She smiled.

He leaned against the banister, smiling down at them. Papyrus had gotten the upper hand this time, and was punching the air with joy.

“Me too,” Sans said, still looking away. “I was thinking. If you want a place to rest for the night, my bed’s open.”

She blinked. Her face seemed to catch fire. That was rather more… forward than she was expecting. Sure, she had enjoyed his lighthearted flirting, and much as she tried to deny it, feelings had been growing in her for a long time. But to have him return those feelings? And so boldly? It was as unfathomable as it was unlikely.

“I can get ya some fresh sheets, and I’ll crash in the shed. My bro set up an, uh, guest room there when the human was in town.”

Oh. She rubbed the heat from her face while he wasn’t looking. How foolish could she be, to think he would be implying…? Well.

“I would not force you out of your room,” she said. “If your brother prepared a guest room, I am sure that would be adequate.”

He let out a quick laugh. “Uh, you’re not used to my brother’s… decorating. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

She sighed. If he insisted, she supposed it would be rude to deny his hospitality.

“Alright. Thank you very much, Sans.”

“Great.” He smiled back at her, then went into his brother’s room. She waited patiently, and only jumped a little when he suddenly reappeared from the right hand door. Perhaps the two rooms were connected in the back by a bathroom.

“Hotel Sans, one vacancy.” He winked while holding the door open.

She chuckled behind her hand. “You really did not have to resort to this.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t call it much of a resort. The bed’s not even queen sized.” He rubbed the back of his skull.

The bed was smaller than she was used to, but it did have fresh sheets. That was the only fresh thing about the room. Chisp crumbs had been brushed under the dresser, and… that was a tornado. A self-sustaining trash tornado. Though at least there was a pine-scented air freshener suspended in it.

“Sorry, it’s… really not much. Uh. Probably kinda insulting, expecting the Queen to sleep—”

“It’s perfect.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I am no stranger to a few crumbs, Sans.”

She remembered days that bled into weeks that bled into months. Months where she couldn’t bring herself to clean, could hardly bring herself to care at all. Months that had grown fewer and farther between since she’d met a friendly voice behind a door.

“I would’ve vacuumed,” he said sheepishly, “but I suck at it.”

More embarrassingly loud laughter burst from her. In front of Sans, though, she didn’t feel the need to curtail her joy.

“Thank you.” She poured as much sincerity as she could into her voice.

“‘S no problem, Tori.” A light blue tinge warmed his cheekbones. How could he possibly look so adorable? “Bathroom’s down the hall if you wanna wash up or anything. And Undyne’ll be on the couch, so this is probably the safest place in the Underground right now.”

Her brow furrowed. Sure enough, there was no bathroom door inside the room—he must have used one of his “shortcuts” to move from his brother’s room to here.

“So, uh. I’ll be in the shed—uh, guest room if you need me.” He flashed one more tense grin before turning to leave.

“Wait.” She stepped towards him without thinking.

He looked up, one brow ridge raised. She found herself biting her lip, wondering if she dared ask what her soul wanted. It was silly, really. She’d been on her own for years, decades.

Maybe that was why she was so hesitant to lose this one taste of companionship.

“I would feel… safer, if you would stay too.” Her face burned beneath her fur, but she projected her usual composure.

“...Welp. Can’t say no to that, huh?”

She was about to reassure him that he could say no—that she was asking as his friend, not as his queen—but the soft smile on his face told her he already knew.

He briefly left to grab a few things, then returned with a few pillows and, for some reason, a dog bed.

“You are not going to sleep on that,” she said in disbelief.

He flopped the dog bed in the middle of the floor and started fluffing it. “Why not? Gotta throw a dog bed a bone, right?”

“Sans.”

The outdoor lights dimmed, as if at her command. Only the colored Gyftmas lights outside and one dim indoor bulb lit the room.

Her confidence waned with the light. What had she expected him to do? She’d asked him to stay. Unless she wanted to…

Oh, to hell with it. She was too old to be so shy about these things.

“If you are not opposed,” she swallowed, “we could… share this mattress.”

When he looked up, she couldn’t make out his eyelights at all. Their glow returned slowly, like the rising of the sun from her memories.

“Heh… you sure? You don’t even know if I snore.”

She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the space beside her. “You do not know if I snore, either.”

“Fair enough, Tori.”

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom—she was imposing on Sans enough without adding the smell of dirty fur to his bed. Then she did her best to ignore the flutterings in her soul as he slipped off his hoodie and climbed up onto the mattress. She insisted he stay under the sheets; her fur would keep her warm enough with just the light blanket on top.

The sheets were a barrier in name only. There was only so much space on the mattress, so no matter how he adjusted and apologized, she could still feel the curve of his spine against hers.

It felt amazing. It felt terrifying. It felt like a mistake. It felt like the only thing she’d ever done right.

The one saving grace of the whole situation was that it didn’t stir memories of Asgore. Her royal beds had been triple the size of Sans’s lumpy mattress. She and her ex-husband had rarely slept back to back, and if they had, the feeling would have much different.

“...Tori?” Sans’s voice was just above a whisper. “You, uh, still awake?”

As if she could sleep while enduring the wonderful agony of friendly touch for the first time in a century.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “Am I taking up too much space?”

“No, ‘course not. I was just, uh… geez.” He sounded embarrassed.

Risking their precarious balance, she rolled over to face him. Or to face the back of his skull, at least.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Doin’ sans-sational.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry. Never got to use that one with you before.”

She would have laughed, had she not worried about shaking the whole mattress.

“It was sans-tastic,” she joked back, and he laughed again.

Then abruptly, his laughter cut off.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

“What for?” She wished she could take his hand, see his face, learn what thoughts were passing through his skull. Instead she gave him as much space as physically possible… which still was not much.

A long, silent moment passed. Had he fallen asleep?

“I know it’s not how you wanted,” he finally said, “but I’m glad I got to meet you. So. Thanks.”

Warmth spread outward from her soul to fill her whole body. Sans could probably feel it radiating from her.

“Thank you, Sans. If I had to return, knowing no one…”

He rolled to face her. His eyelights were mere inches from her pupils.

“You would’ve been fine. All you had to do was tell a few of your amazing jokes, and the whole Underground would’ve been linin’ up to be your pals.”

She suppressed a laugh. “I hardly think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Plenty of monsters in town cope with jokes. You’d just be relating to the common folk.”

She stared into his sockets a little too intently. At this distance, it easily made her dizzy.

“Would you be included in that demographic?” she couldn’t help asking.

“When I first met you? For sure.” His gaze darted away. “But it’s crazy. Between you and the kid… I’m startin’ to think there’s more to life than good food and bad laughs.”

“Really?” She and the child had made such an impact on him?

“I know. Don’t tell Papyrus. He wouldn’t believe you, anyway.” He winked.

“My lips are sealed.” She smiled.

Silence hung between them. It should have felt awkward, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away. In the end it was Sans who yawned in her face and then hurriedly flipped back onto his other side.

She laughed, and clearly she was exhausted too, because she pressed a kiss to the back of his skull without thinking.

He froze. She froze. There was no way to play that off gracefully. And there was no way she could fall asleep and pretend that it had not happened.

“Heh… those didn’t feel very sealed to me,” he finally rasped out.

It took her a moment to process what he meant. Meanwhile her embarrassment only burned hotter.

“I am so sorry—”

“I’m not.” When he rolled back to face her, his face was bright blue. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

His question was tinged with desperation.

“Of course,” she answered automatically, despite the many responsibilities that she would have to attend to in the morning. She was the Queen once more. If she had to, she could adjust the schedule of meetings and speeches to accommodate… this.

Whatever this was to be.

“Remind me in the morning,” he squeezed her hand, “that this is real.”

His hand quickly went limp. She was worried for a moment, before she heard the faint snore escape his nasal cavity.

She gave him a fond smile, and allowed her own eyes to close. She did not know if sleep would come or not. She did not know what challenges the new day would bring, or what old challenges would continue to rear their heads.

But she did know that she was not alone. For tonight, that was enough.

#soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #tali writes #soriel week 2021 #soriel week #really glad to finally share this one!

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industriallyinsecure · 3 years ago

Note

Do you still take requests? 👉👈 If so, would you like writing headcanons for a darling that doesn't understand the situation and is too trusting for their own good? Like, they got knocked out on the street by their yandere but when they wake up they believe that they just fainted on the street and the yandere is not their kidnapper but their "savior" looking after them while they were out cold?

I do still take requests! Unless it’s stated otherwise somewhere like the top of my blog or in the master list section, requests are always open!

Formaggio doesn't really know what to expect, but you wrapping his knuckles up and fretting over him like a hen was certainly not it. There’s a certain cheekiness to him, but nothing too overt. It’s hard for him to keep it a secret, so if you asked what happened he won’t hesitate to regale you with an exaggerated version of what happened. He really hopes you won’t ask, though. It’s hard for him to think on his feet when he actually needs to, but he always comes up with a witty deflection that keeps your mind off of it. Tries to use his wiles to keep you around for as long as possible until he is forced to shrink you and keep you tucked away in his underwear drawer.

It takes Illuso every ounce of self control he has to not burst out laughing. Instead he quickly puts on a concerned façade and acts like this was just a random act of kindness. He insists that you stay with him until he’s sure you won’t go blacking out again. You don’t exactly have a choice in the matter regardless because Illuso can schmooze anyone into getting what he wants. He forces friendship on you and, hey, why not just stay over here for a while? You live so close and he’s obviously just looking out for you. Soon enough, you have a very toxic attention whore of a ‘friend’ that insists on controlling every aspect of your life. But, he was looking out for you, right? He saved you that day. He must only want what’s best for you.

Pesci doesn’t really know what to do. It was a moment of panic. He calls Prosciutto and is crying over the phone until his big brother finds him and helps him deal with it. Soon, you’re whisked away to a hotel room while Prosciutto looks for nearby apartments that Pesci could afford. He can’t bring himself to settle in next to you while you sleep, the guilt is overwhelming. When you wake up, he’s overjoyed that he didn’t accidentally kill you and that you seem to like him as well! More accurately, you were thankful that he saved you from being killed or worse, but to Pesci anything positive meant that you obviously reciprocate his feelings. Like Illuso, a toxic co-dependent relationship forms and soon you find yourself at the mercy of his constant self deprecation and gaslighting.

This was worse than Prosciutto thought. Part of the reason he took you was because he didn’t trust you to not get taken advantage of. Better him than someone who had nefarious intentions (ahem), right? He handles the situation well for the most part and frequently has to stop himself from taking you by the shoulders and shaking you so hard your brain rattles around in your skull. The way you shyly snuggle into his shoulder and thank him profusely tugs at his heart and confirms that this was the right choice. He’d enjoy this gentle domesticity in the moment and deal with your tears later if he needed to. It would be easy to subtly age you and bring you back into his arms if you felt well enough to leave, chastising you about taking better care of yourself until you were ready to go home. It’s sort of munchausen by proxy, but he’s not delusional enough to believe there’s something legitimately wrong. He knows it’s artificial, but he does play it up when he sits by your bedside and gently dabs a cool cloth on your face.

Melone treats it like a Misery situation. ‘It’s storming so hard outside and you’re pretty roughed up. All the power lines are down and the hospitals are full. I’ll take care of you’. In reality, he used a throwaway Junior he made just for this occasion to break your leg and incapacitate you. He’s not stupid enough to reveal that he’s your stalker, though. He prefers the part of the Good Samaritan that took you in and is taking care of you. He’ll milk the situation for as long as possible until it turns into an actual Misery situation where he has to break your legs again to bring you back. When you wake up the second time, he’s much more comfortable being lovey dovey and smothering you with love and attention. The first time was a trial run, but now that he tested the waters, he’s more comfortable snuggling close and watching movies with you while you recover, and he might even rub your feet if they’re sore from disuse. If you end up falling for your caretaker, Melone will be overjoyed!

Ghiaccio is afraid you’ve caught on to his ruse and prepares to incapacitate you again. In his time in Passione, he’s learned that no one is what they seem. But you’re oddly compliant when he tells you that you can’t leave just yet. Not that you could find your way back to Firenze, he brought you to the Alps for a reason. Yeah, it was a shitty little place next to a sheep farm and it was cold as all hell (not that he personally minded), but with the low temperatures it would be easy to catch you. He concocts a lie about how he was visiting the city and he couldn’t just leave you there. And you believe him. He then tells you it would be a while before you could go back because the roads were iced over and he couldn’t get his car to start. And you believed him again. As long as you’d blindly believe his words, he could keep you snug and safely nestled away in a little Alpine village until you eventually return his love. You’re obligated to, after all he’s done.

Risotto is always in combat mode, never once letting his guard down. When he slips his arms around your waist to reciprocate your hug, he’s actually just preparing to overpower you and crush you under his weight. He does enjoy the warmth of your body snug against him and the way you nuzzle into his neck. It makes his heart ache when he realizes you weren’t the slightest bit scared of him, and only makes his obsession worse. He knows very well that part of the reason he’s the way he is (meaning yandere) is because of the social disconnect in his childhood because of how he looks. But all he sees is gratitude in your eyes, and it fills his cold, thought to be long dead heart with a giddiness befitting of a child. He can’t help it when Metallica springs into action when you leave, but he’s quick to catch you before you fall, tutting and informing you that your foot must've been hurt when you fell the first time. No worries, he’ll keep it wrapped up and keep you at his dingy little apartment that he may or may not have bought for the purpose of keeping you tucked away.

Sorbet and Gelato take advantage of the situation. Gelato tries to exaggerate what happened and make it seem like they saved you from an onslaught of mafiosi, but Sorbet reigns him in without giving too much away or letting you know that it’s a fabricated story. Gelato uses any opportunity to invade your personal space and cuddle up close to you under the guise of taking care of you. Sorbet is always more subdued in his affections, preferring to just check on you and take your temperature once in a while. But if you finally ask to go home, they’ll let you go. They always enjoy a game of cat and mouse.

#yandere sorlato #yandere risotto nero #yandere ghiaccio #yandere melone #yandere prosciutto #yandere pesci #yandere illuso #yandere formaggio #la squadra di esecuzione #yandere la squadra #la squadra x reader

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skeetusmcyeetus · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve making headcanons about all of my hyper fixations for a while now and just dumping them on my friends so I’m gonna also dump them here.

If you’re into All For the Game , My Hero Academia, ATLA, The Raven Cycle stay fuckn tuned my doods bc I have a loooot of stuff rattling around my empty skull.

Not all of these are 100% mine some of them are already pretty popular and I’m expanding on them or I heard something similar and edited it to my own tastes

I’ll separate them by series,,,

Theres like one canon that’s mildly nsfw

TW: drug abuse

Mha/Bnha

pro hero kirishima’s Red Riot™️ merch is insanely size inclusive bc he wants fatgum to be able to wear the hoodie that kiri’s pr team sent him but that’s not all,,

If he wasn’t super gay and in love with Bakugou he’d be very Into BBWs so again his merch is super size inclusive bc he wants everyone to be able to wear it

The company that makes the merch also takes requests for special made merch for people who’s quirks interfere with a “normal” size or dimension

ALSO ,,,,this man(kiri) is built like a fuckn MACK TRUCK OKAY he is 6’7” and cannot fit through doorways without ducking and turning a little to the side ,,, he is broad And still wears no shirt™️ ,,, this being said ,, bakugou is still around 5’8” and pretty slim don’t get me wrong he’s extremely strong and toned but he’s not huge,, it makes flying easier if he stays a little lighter ,,,,,,, the point is,, sometimes kiri will pick up bakugou with one arm and bakugou can’t even pretend to hate it anymore

Also,,,, fatgum has to use special pens and keyboards because of how big his hands are,,, he’s literally 8’2” I won’t take criticism on this

Fatgum actually loves wearing red riot and sun eater merch

Allmight and Inko start dating and one day when they’re out someone comments on how much all might “looks like a skeleton” and she absolutley lets loose on them for being so vapid and shallow and how “he’s risked his life to save people like you more times than you have ever even thought about being helpful in your life and it would serve you well to treat someone who’d die for you without even knowing you with more respect”

All might had to gently pull her away bc the guy was crying and she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him

Midnight is Asexual and aggressively pretends to be horny on main™️ because for one, it works with her quirk and two, nothing sells better than sex especially when you’re a woman.

Bakugou and kirishima use sign language to talk shit at Public events

Dabi is addicted to painkillers because he’s been on them his entire life,, he wakes up with the shakes and sometimes toga has to help him take his meds in the morning because he’s already in withdrawal

Tensei was the first one to realize that iida was autistic and immediately did copious amounts of research on ASD and how to be a good brother to him

ATLA

sokka grows his hair as long as Zuko’s (except the sides obvi) and sometimes he’ll wear his hair in the fire nation top knot and zuko loses it every time

Azula gets help and now sometimes when she wakes up with the sun after a night of fitful sleep she goes to the courtyard to have tea with iroh. They never talk, but then again they never need to.

Sometimes after a hard day sokka falls asleep in the bathtub and wakes up to zuko warming the water back up and washing his hair for him

Suki lounges in zukos throne while zuko gets worked up about stuff and paces all around the room

Mai is on the ace spectrum

When sokka and zuko visit the southern water tribe zuko will firebend for the all of the kids in the village,,, they love him so much and sometimes sokka gets a little teary eyed watching him

Sokka braids zukos hair water tribe style and it’s the hottest thing maybe ever

Zuko takes sokka on shopping sprees pretty frequently and sokka fuckn loves it

One time someone has the nerve to call sokka “the fire lords sugar baby” and sokka just flips his ponytail over his shoulder Ariana style and says ��and what about it?”

The Raven cycle

Ronan has 100% killed Robert Parrish in his dreams and when he wakes up to see Adam next to him he almost immediately wants to go back to sleep and do it again for all the pain he’s caused Adam

Gansey is oblivious to the fact that he is indeed shredded,, when he gets really worked up he moves his arms a l o t like rolls up his sleeves, crosses and uncrosses his arms and The gang’s favorite is when he puts his hands on his head and subconsciously flexes,,,, literally entire gangsey will group swoon at him and he genuinely thinks they are marvelling at his passion for whatever he’s worked up about

Ronan watched broke back mountain once when he was like 16 and now all he can think about is being a gay cowboy ,,,

Adam will read people’s tarot wrong if theyre douchebags

Don’t you think it’s funny that the ganseys don’t have any straight children?

Blue has a T-shirt from each member of the gangsey (except Noah,, rip Noah) and shes created a terrible Franken-T-shirt by ripping them up and sewing them all back together in an extremely ugly patch work thing

Adam talks in Latin in his sleep and it really freaks his roommate out,, like a lot,, not to mention the fact that Adam already creeps him out to begin with bc he’s got that other vibe that comes from being tied to cabeswater and lindenmere ,, 6 out of 7 days his roommate is convinced that he’s a witch or a fairy or something

Ronan teaches opal how to bake and opal burns everything on purpose

aftg

Neil has definitely killed multiple people to survive

Neil’s mom definitely made him kill someone at least twice to make sure he could kill to survive on his own if they got separated

he probably definitely still has nightmares about each one

Matt and Dan both had a crush on Neil for like 30 seconds and absolutely talked to each other about him

Ppl always talk about how hot it is to crush a watermelon with your thighs,,,, Andrew could do it with his arms

Aarons ass is so flat and Andrew has an absolute dumptruck

Kevin started out as one of those annoying “obsessed with WWII” history guys and now he’s actually very into queer history and will rant about the lavender scare for an hour if you let him

The foxes lounge room(?) has a dart board with riko’s face on it to this day,, they literally have a drawer full of copies the same image of riko and every time one gets worn out they put a new one up. It’s more of an inside joke now but wymack still hates that little puke even though he’s dead so it stays up

Post-canon Neil gets drunk and teaches the team how to steal a car by hot wiring Matt’s truck

Matt does drag for halloween one year and Dan liked it a little too much *cough cough* she pegged him while he was still in drag

Someone once asked Renee if she was “saving herself for marriage like a good Christian girl should” and Allison knocked them out cold and stepped over the body

Neil calls Aaron ugly to his face literally any chance he gets (I feel like this one might be canon but I actually don’t know What’s real anymore)

Andrew Unironically wears a pink apron that says “kiss the cook” that Nicky got him for Christmas when he bakes

Okay I think that’s it ? For now?? Let me know if y’all want more,,,,, I’ll separate them next time I just really had to dump these and I didn’t want to make multiple posts.

I made this at 5:30 in the morning sorry if it’s riddled with typos and errors.

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elvensorceress · 3 years ago

Text

starved

5x04 gap filler because @loveyourownsmiilee requested 💕💕💕

At one point, there was something other than pain rattling around in his skull. He wishes he could remember that time.

The mirror shows him the skin around his eye keeps getting darker and his eye itself is bloodshot. His cheek hurts. Even moving his jaw hurts because it pulls on everything else. He skipped dinner. And breakfast. Everything is swollen and throbbing. His birthmark actually looks like it’s an extension of this wound now. A nasty injury like most people always assume.

He was just trying to protect her. He was just doing what she wanted. Not that he can blame Chimney for it. He can’t even imagine what it would be like to have someone you love, someone you share a child with just walk out and not say anything. Not that he blames Maddie either. Just. Why is everything so fucked up recently?

What would it be like to have someone you love and share a child with just disappear on you?

Buck picks up his cellphone, stares at it for one second, then sets it down. He turns from his bathroom mirror and wipes off his face from where his eyes were leaking.

He could go back to bed. He doesn’t have to do anything today. People would look at him and ask questions anyway if he went out. Maybe he could handle a smoothie? Ice might help, too.

Or he could keep standing in his bathroom, staring at his bruised face, wondering if Maddie will ever forgive him, if Chimney will ever forgive him, if the two of them will be able to salvage the relationship that he knows is so important to both of them.

Madde had someone who loved her more than anything in the world. Someone who wanted to spend his life with her. Someone who wants to raise a child with her. And Chimney had been lost and alone before Maddie, too.

All of this is awful. He used to envy them so much. He was happy for them, so happy for them, and so happy she was finally sharing her life with someone who deserved her.

He’d give anything to have a life like theirs. A partner and child. A committed relationship. Love.

What does it even mean to be loved?

He has someone. They’re fine together. There’s nothing wrong with their relationship. If you could even call it that.

He misses Christopher. That’s all it is. They got to spend so much time together over the summer. It’s easy to pretend that Christopher is his son because that’s what people see when they go on outings and adventures together. They see a father and son. Buck never corrects them. Chris doesn’t either. Which is far too much to read into.

He finds some soft leftovers that don’t require a lot of chewing. Pad Thai noodles with tofu and vegetables and then makes and drinks a berry protein smoothie.

He looks at his cellphone again. Why does it feel like he shouldn’t? He’s alone and hurting and there’s only one person in the world he wants to call. Why is he stopping himself? It wouldn’t be treated like an imposition and he knows that. Maybe he doesn’t deserve it. But he really needs it.

He needs Eddie.

He types out a quick text before he can think better of it.

Are you busy right now?

Think you could come over?

He tries not to look or stare or will a response into existence. It’s less than a minute before his phone buzzes.

Nope.

Sure. Give me twenty and I’ll be right there.

You okay?

Buck debates telling the whole story over text message versus telling it in person, and opts to take a picture of his face and send that as an explanation. He expects maybe an onslaught of caps lock but gets an incoming call instead.

He doesn’t bother with a hello. He answers immediately with, “I’m okay. It’s a long—”

“What the fuck happened? How did you get hurt? Did someone do this to you? When did this happen? Are you hurt anywhere else? I swear to god if someone did this to you on purpose—”

“—story. I’ll tell you everything when you get here. I’m okay. It probably looks worse than it is. It’s just… just my eye. Nothing major.”

Eddie clearly sighs out worlds of anger. “Buck.”

“I promise, okay? I’m fine. Little bruised is all. I’ll tell you everything. Don’t worry. Just drive safe. Come see for yourself and you won’t worry.”

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, but promises, “I’ll be right there.”

He’s over in barely ten minutes and walks through the door using his key, doesn’t wait for Buck to open anything for him. And Buck has to bite down a smile. It’s just. Nice when someone cares about him enough to worry like this. When they are willing to drop everything and rush over and care about him.

Eddie frowns deeply when he sees the bruises in person, which is sort of ironic because Eddie is looking even more gorgeous lately and right now is no exception. His hair is perfect and his clothes are nice, fitted well against his body, and he’s had this inner glow lately that makes it so difficult to not stare at him. The breakup definitely looks good on him. So good on him. And fuck, he rushes over and he smells clean and spicy and woodsy like pine and his favorite soap, and Buck’s legs give out.

He sits on his dining room table and holds his breath as Eddie reaches up to his cheek. “Jesus, Buck.”

There’s heat radiating from Eddie’s fingers. They’re so close. Eddie could touch him, so easily brush fingertips over Buck’s skin, and it wouldn’t be out of line. It would be totally reasonable for Eddie to touch him here in this situation.

Buck’s skin aches for him. He’s cold, frozen, it’s been too long. They shared so many casual, necessary, painful but very intimate touches and then Eddie was healed and it’s been so long.

It’s not like craving sex though there is hunger and need. It’s so much deeper than that. Sex is simple. Impersonal actually. It’s never meant anything. But this. This would mean everything.

Buck can’t look away from the deep, worry in Eddie’s eyes. No one, save maybe Maddie, has ever looked at him with such warmth and concern. “I’m sure it looks worse than it actually is.”

Eddie’s fingers graze his chin and urge him to tilt his head back. “Have you felt any fractures? Did you check?”

Buck swallows dry sticky nothing and shakes his head.

Eddie’s fingers touch just below his eye, very carefully feeling along the bones under his bruised skin. He’s so focused, so gentle. Buck winces only once but he nearly whimpers when Eddie’s thumb brushes over the ridge of his eyebrow. He’s warm he’s gentle he smells so good he feels so good he cares so much, and Buck is easily breathless with the magnitude of it.

Eddie pulls his hand back and avoids Buck’s gaze. It’s too much. It’s always been too much, too easy to slip and crash into each other and become impossible to separate. Eddie goes to the fridge instead and fills a zip top bag with ice and grabs two beers for them because why the fuck not.

Buck drags a barstool out onto the patio where it’s open and sunny and easier to breathe when he can smell something other than the delicious, lickable scent on Eddie’s warm skin.

Eddie hands him a beer and the icepack, then stands more than six feet away. “Tell me everything.”

It’s smart. It was getting too hot inside anyway. So, Buck tells him the whole story while Eddie teases him and smiles at him like no one else does. He’s beginning to think like no one else ever will.

Continue reading on AO3

When his second bottle is finished, Eddie sets it with the others and walks over to him. He takes hold of the bag of ice freezing Buck’s fingers, and Buck lets him. He rubs his own cold hand and wiggles his fingers back and forth to bring feeling back to them.

When did he start feeling so frozen? When did he stop feeling much of anything at all? Is this sucker punch to his cheek the only thing that’s struck through him? He can’t remember. But there’s something stuck inside him, suspended, unmoving. Did it happen slowly, gradually over time?

Or has it been since the moment he was hit with Eddie’s blood?

Has anything touched him since then? Or has he been responding by reflex and memory of what feeling is? Why is it only now, when Eddie looks at him both like he’s pained by the sight of the bruise on Buck’s face and also like he can’t even see it because he only sees Buck, that Buck remembers how he still aches for something he’s never had?

Why does Eddie look at him with such softness? Why does it stop the breath in Buck’s chest? The heat of his gaze is more than any fire, but it feels just as dangerous. But Eddie is comforting. He’s safe and he’s the only thing Buck ever wants to see when he’s lost and hurt.

Eddie moves the ice pack away from Buck’s face. He sets it behind him with the beer bottles. His fingertips touch Buck’s chin again, direct his face toward the sunlight.

What would it take to bring warmth and feeling back to every part of him?

Eddie’s eyes are so dark. The beautiful brown irises are thin, almost nonexistent. Blown out even in broad daylight. Buck’s fingers hurt. They’re too cold. They want so badly to touch, to feel, to thread between the fingers of someone else’s hand.

“Your birthmark looks like it’s part of the bruising,” Eddie says, frowning as he did when he first saw it.

Buck huffs but his voice comes out soft. His mouth is dry again. His lips are dry but sticking together. “I know.”

The hint of a fingertip floats over Buck’s eyebrow. Where there’s no bruising. Just pigmented skin.

He remembers starting middle school and begging Maddie to let him borrow her makeup so he could cover it. So many people stared at him or teased him about it. Or assumed it was just another one of his “accidents” or scars that became permanently branded onto his face.

He was always the kid with the thing on his eye. The wound that doesn’t heal. The mark that somehow means he’s a failure because he’s imperfect and marred and weird. Plenty of people have called it disgusting or ugly.

When he was older, people wondered why he wouldn’t just go to a dermatologist or something and have it cut or lasered off. It was unusual and embarrassing sometimes because it was so noticeable, but it felt like part of him. Like he shouldn’t try to get rid of it. Even if other people were repulsed by it.

But Eddie… Eddie just looks sad. As he touches, barely touches, the faintest most unbearably light graze of his fingers over Buck’s skin.

As if he can convince both of them that they aren’t staring at each other from only a foot apart. As if there’s a reason for such an unnecessary, intimate contact. As if they’re not touching at all, not watching each other in quiet still sunlight. And then maybe both of them will believe they’re friends as they’ve always been. Just friends. Coworkers.

That they haven’t fallen into something far too vast and complicated and messy and perfect and terrifying with no way to ever climb out.

That the phantom hint of skin to skin connection from Eddie isn’t enough to make Buck ache and yearn and need more than he ever has for anything in his life. Not for sex. A little for sex. The need for his touch is so beyond needing sex. He needs everything. Warmth to melt through him, promises written with fingers and breathed into his lungs like a rescue, lifetimes of whatever this living burning feeling is between them.

Though he knows no matter how much he might have, it would never be enough. They’re too alike. Too connected. There is no line of demarcation. Maybe there never was. They’re too woven together now to be able to tell.

The hand near his face is still hovering. Undecided. Maybe uncertain? It would be so easy. Eddie is already everything. Almost everything. Buck already belongs to him because they belong to each other. The question is only in how many ways. How far do they let it spread?

“I should go,” Eddie says. Ever sensible and restrained. But he makes no move to step away or drop his hand.

Buck’s fingers are cold, aching, stiff, and frozen. He catches the hand near his face and it’s warm, fire and sun to his own flesh and bone. Eddie lets him hold on. It’s been so long since they’ve held on. Since they’ve held each other. “You don’t have to.”

Eddie watches him, looks at their hands, searches his eyes. He lets out a long breath and pulls Buck’s hand so his arm is wrapped around Eddie’s back. He leaves it there and caresses Buck’s bruised cheek, lightly, gently, but more purposefully. “When we’re ready,” he says quietly. “I’ll stay. We’ll come home. All three of us.”

Buck sighs. Patience is not one of his best virtues. He’s never had a home. Not really. Not until Eddie and Christopher. They’re home and they’re still so far away. But he savors the brief contact and leans his head into Eddie’s hand.

Eddie leans down and brushes lips against Buck’s temple. “Promise.”

Buck closes his eyes when they let go so he can continue to only see sun and warmth and Eddie and home. Someday, he knows. Someday they’ll be home.

@ashavahishta @ellelans @oneweirdcryptid @oldsouldreamer85 @arrenemris @captain-flint @fleurdebeton @rosefairyirl @holydrogo-n @free-byrd @insaneoldme @oatflatwhite @favouritealias @idealuk @racoonsa @ethicalconflictdiaz

#buddie #911fic #buck x eddie #because they are soft husbands #jenwyn fic #911 spoilers

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bluegarners · 3 years ago

Note

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

#bad things happen bingo #i have your loved one #dick grayson #dick grayson is nightwing #nightwing #jason todd #jason todd is robin #robin #hurt/comfort #angst #kidnapping #well the hurt/comfort didn't really work out in the end but eh #my fic

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mashiraostail · 4 years ago

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hello!! can i have miruko and midnight with a student intern (PLATONIC) who just defeated a really strong villian that a lot of other heroes failed to beat? and they’re like suuuuper proud of them and brag to everyone about how strong their apprentice is? thank you!!

i’ve never written for Mirko but i, like most midnight simps, love her as well so hopefully this does her justice!

Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko To be honest you had no idea what you did. You’d never admit that, of course. If you’d learned anything from your mentor it was just to fake it till you made it, even if you were totally lost. Puff out your chest and look in charge, as long as you look like you belong someplace no one will bother you. Maybe you’d taken the advice too far because now you were alone, and this villain was out of your league, but it looked like everyone trusted you. When you looked around for Rumi, desperate for her help she seemed wrapped up in her own fight. “Hey, you’ve got it! Don’t look so scared! You can’t rely on others forever!” It spurred you on just enough, the other thing you’d picked up from the rabbit hero was her incredibly hot head. She fully intended to go in after you, sure she knew you couldn’t rely on her help forever, but you were just a kid, she’d have a tough time taking on that guy alone and she had no intention of making you do it by yourself either, she just wanted you to loosen him up so to speak. Once her own affairs are handled, 3 lower level villains tied to a telephone pole she turns to make way to you, but all she hears is a loud thud, and your opponent is on the ground. “Holy shit!” She shouts, starting to jump. “Did you see that?!” You shout back, also starting to jump. “NO but I’m gonna imagine it until the day I die!” She was as strong as she looked, the way she tackles you knocks the wind out of your probably terribly bruised chest. But you don’t mind, not really anyway. “Tell me everything!” She’s shaking you, your brain feels like soup in your head, and you can practically feel it rattling around your skull. It’s not like it had been an easy win. You definitely had a concussion. “How the hell did you do that?!” She’s starting to inspect you for any serious damage, twisting and tugging your hero costume, “look at you go! Outshining me!” The camera crews were fast approaching as she continues her elated praise. “You’re gonna be a total chart-topper when you graduate!” She spins you around to look at your back. “And you’ve barely got a scratch!” “I think I have a major concussion. And I think a rib is floating somewhere ribs shouldn’t float.” You rub the aching area and she laughs. “Nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix. I’ll give her a call.” Rumi is massaging your shoulders, facing you again. “How the hell’d you do that?” “I..honestly don’t know.” You shake your head, “it just...I kept doing what felt right.” “You are a serious powerhouse, kiddo. Keep your books closed, you’re gonna be my sidekick when you’re old enough. I’m calling dibs.” She’s saying it to you yet also seemingly announcing it to the surrounding newscasters. “As much as I wanna take credit for this guy, it was all my star pupil.” She shakes you some more, you love Rumi, but she was like a big sister, a buff, heavy-hitting, rough and tumble big sister who didn’t feel pain or understand that other people felt it. “We’d love to stick around but I’ve got some damaged goods here.” She slings an arm around your shoulder, roughly, you hiss at her. “Usagiyama-se-OW stop!” You can’t help but laugh, even as the pain rattles down your stomach. “Make way, make way. Come on, you saw the whole fight there’s nothing else we can tell you, just share the footage so bad guys know to watch out for this kid.” She thumps her foot and the camera crews practically part like the Red Sea for you, you aren’t sure how you ended up with such an impressive mentor. “So I’ll give Recovery girl a ring, but until then what do you think about cake?” She meanders down the street, and arm still slung around you, “I was thinking-” “Carrot. I know.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Look at you catching on, you’ll be a pro in no time.” “Can we get a cab?” You whine, “I think I broke my nose.” “No, and now it’s time for your next lesson under the great and powerful Usagiyama-sensei; walking it off!” “That’s so unfair!”

Nemuri Kayama/Midnight You didn’t attend UA, actually, you didn’t even bother applying. So when Midnight took you on as a student you were surprised, to say the least. But you learned a lot from her and had grown...surprisingly close. She was level headed and confident, everything she did she did with clear purpose, you could sense her intention even as she walked. These were all traits you were picking up, at times you probably looked much more confident than you felt. You aren’t sure if you should accredit that or terrible luck to your current situation, and Midnight was nowhere to be found. You were backed into a corner, this villain was way too much for you, he’d been way too much for every hero that went against them, always getting away and always leaving the hero more than a little banged up. You couldn’t run there was nowhere to go, even if you used your quirk to flee you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t be followed, and you weren’t sure you could outrun him. “Stop trying to size everyone up!” You can hear her voice clear as day in your head, “you’ll know how strong they are when the fight starts, looks can be deceiving, and trying to figure out a million what-if scenarios will make you forget what is. Give it your all, you’d be surprised how often it works out in your favor.” You heed her advice, believing in yourself and your abilities. Midnight cannot believe she lost you. She had a bad habit of losing kids, just misplacing them, it’s not like she could pick and choose who was immune to her quirk, usually, she told her allies to scatter before activating it, the last thing she wanted was you passed out on the street and prone. She skids down every alley she passes, eyes casting up to awnings and low rooftops to search for you, she hears fighting, she follows the sound. She turns the corner just in time to see him go down, You’re on his shoulders behind him, legs wrapped around his neck, you’re hitting the top of his head, his face, pulling his nose and mouth and threatening his eyes, you were fighting totally dirty until the minute the guy hit the ground. She was proud. “Well.” You fall off him before he hits the ground, dusting off your tattered costume. “Look at you go!!!” She shouts and you perk up considerably at her voice, glad to no longer be alone. “Midnight!” You beam, “did you see??” “See?” She scoffs, running toward you, “I recorded it in my mind!” She taps her temple, “I wish I could have seen the whole fight!” She swoops you up, crushing you into her chest, “but what I did see was incredibly impressive! You’re learning well!” You brace yourself against her shoulders as she looks up at you, “we’ve been trying to take that guy out for weeks. Eraser isn’t gonna believe it when I tell him it was you who did it.” You flush at that, embarrassment at the thought of her bragging to her colleagues about you warms up the tips of your ears. “God! Where’d UA go wrong letting you fly under the radar??” She was squeezing you, shaking you. You didn’t mind, despite the throbbing all over body ache you had, it was nice to be praised and appreciated, especially by a mentor as strong a Nemuri. “You’re gonna be a great hero one day.” She sets you down, clasping your shoulders in her hands, “you’ve got the makings of a real wrecking ball, sprout.” "Do you think so?” “Uh, yeah. Duh.” She snorts, starting to pinch your cheeks, “you’re a bulldozer! You gave that guy a beating for every hero he banged up ten times over!” She glances at the passed out villain, he was sporting two tender looking black eyes. “You’re probably hurt.” She wraps an arm tight around your shoulders, “where’s it hurt?” “My head.” You let yourself lean into her side, “and my legs.” “The school is nearby, you can rest up there.” She’s rubbing your arm, they’re quick affectionate strokes that make friction heat up your arm and squeeze you close to her side. “And I can show off my star, I can’t wait to brag to everyone about you.” “That’s unbecoming!” You blush at the thought of her showing you off to Present Mic and Eraser Head, gloating about your victory to pros like Vlad King and Hound Dog. She laughs you off, “no it’s not, but everyone’s jealousy will be!” You groan and roll your eyes but happily let her squeeze you a little tighter, it feels nice to be appreciated and Nemuri, despite how she scoffed at you when you said it, had a sort of maternal air to her at times like this. You won’t say you’ve never called her ‘mom’ by accident. “I clearly have the best apprentice out of everyone! So of course I need to show you off and light a fire under everyone’s ass!”

#mirko x reader #rumi usagiyama #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #midhgt #rumi usagiyama x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests #platonic

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