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pumpkinpatch-daydreams · 1 year

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Heist hijinks: another new world another old crash.

[return to the beginning]

Length: 6,303

Time: 25 minutes

Content warnings: crash, blood, glass cuts, death, hunted, claustrophobia.

Note: no sexual themes or content

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Ella slammed her tiny fists on the door. Her screams and sobs were scared and ferocious but the words were reduced to unintelligible babbles.

Looking around Cadence took stock of the situation. These pods were duel purpose to either be completely unmanned or have a single occupant, meaning the cockpit they now stood in was small, cramped, but there was a small cargo section behind the plush pilot’s seat that could give the two more space if they could figure out how to open it. There were buttons and a screen across a dashboard with a stick that Cadence thought looked like an old fashioned game joy con controller with a button at the top and everything. It was all colorful noise to them. They noted a small hairline crack on the glass of the port door window. With both the pod and the ship bay doors being sealed, as long as the pod was still latched into place that wouldn’t be a problem due to there being a small bubble of air between the two bodies. Still, if that broke they’d hate to see what all that tick glass would do to Ella if it shattered.

They grabbed Ella’s hands and gently guided them away from the port door. “Okay, enough of that now. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Where trapped!” She screamed.

“For now. I’m sure we’ll be let out sooner or later. It’s scary but right now we have to stay calm and be patient.” They gave Ella a smile they hoped was comforting. Cadence was used to Evelyn’s games at this point and they were sick of them. Despite how mean it felt they hopped one thing to come from this experience was that Ella will finally cut away the dead weight dragging her down and they could leave them at the next station to sink or swim on their own without using the youngest member of their family as a life preserve. They knew Evelyn talked big but they didn’t believe for one second that she had the spine to truly do something to hurt them. It was all a petty power play.

They believed that until they heard Tammy’s robotic voice over the intercom. “Emergency pod dump sector C activated. Stay clear.”

Cadence’s eyes went wide. “That’s not us, is it?” They asked almost compulsively in disbelief despite knowing Ella wouldn’t know either. Ice pumped through their veins as they watched the giant mechanical couplings unhook and retract from the pod one by one. There was a final twist and the pod was free. The ship quickly fell away from the pod door. Ella stared not understanding for the moment why the ship was suddenly getting smaller.

“Oh dear!” Candace exclaimed as they let go of Ella and started frantically scanning over the buttons on the control panel. None of the colorful array that was on a spread before them pulled at any string of familiarity or understanding, nothing but the thing in the middle that looked like a joy con. Maybe it worked like one too and controlled the pod’s direction? They grabbed it and snapped it all the way to the right with the intention of turning the pod around and and heading back to the ship. Maybe they could bump into the windows of the captain’s cabin so Oron would know something was wrong and help them. That was the goal but if that was aiming too high simply bumping back into the walls of the ship and staying close until someone came looking was good enough.

What ended up happening was the pod started spinning rapidly like a top until the centrifugal force pulled them to the walls, dragging Candace forward over the control panel, and in turn the joy con, causing the pod to rapidly descend in a tight corkscrew until they overcame their fear and let go completely. The corkscrew flight pattern loosened and uncurled until they were flying straight again, Candace and Ella sliding off the walls into a pile on the floor in the process.

“Turn off the thrusters!” Ella shouted and pointed at the control panel.

“Little missy if I knew anything about this blasted thing we wouldn’t have just gone through a washing machine spin cycle simulator.” Cadence stated considerably more sternly than they meant as they untangled themselves from the heap on the floor. They were not a large person by any means but the pod was too small for even them to stand up straight. “Help me spot the B.S. Lucky.”

Both of them picked a window and started scanning the countless bright stars and nebulae that created a water painting of color across the back abyss of space for the distinct white turnip shape with slowly flashing green lights that made up their ship.

Studious eyes searched, looking over and double checking each dot, star, planet, and meteor that entered their field of vision until, eventually, heaving a sigh and turning to Ella. “Anything?”

“No. I don’t even know where to focus. We got spun so bad I don’t even know which way is up anymore.”

Their lips pressed together. “I’m so sorry.”

She sighed and slid down next to the chair to the back of the pod. With the force of the trusters pushing them forward, the back of the pod was now the floor. She curled up and sat on it. “It’s fine. It’s my fault we’re in here in the first place.”

“What? No. It was Evelyn that forced us in here.”

“Yeah but I provoked her. I started that fight that made her do this.”

They slid along what was now designated as a wall and crouched down next to her. “Ella, you have no control over the choices other people make. Unless you put a gun to her head and told her to do what you say she’s the one who freely acts on her choices. Goodness, even in that situation, she has the choice not to do what you say, even if that means that you will choose to shoot her in tern. But in that situation she didn’t “make” you shoot her you chose to. In this situation you didn’t “make” her do anything, even if she said you did, it is always her choice.”

Ella put her face in her knees. Cadence didn’t know if she was listening at this point. After a few seconds of silence she spoke into her legs. “What’s going to happen to us?”

They took this as an opportunity to take stock of the situation, looking around. They popped open the compartment behind the seat to find it plush lined but otherwise empty. Now that the fiery hot fast burning burst of deafening panic has mellowed out into a long lasting candle of dread, the only sound they heard was the hum of this thing’s tiny engine below their feet… and a hiss.

A memory that was disregarded not even an hour before politely knocked at their conscience mind and asked to be let in. The crack in the porthole glass. They looked up to where it was now positioned above them, it wasn’t particularly big and didn’t seem to have gotten any bigger, but it was still a breech in an otherwise perfect seal letting out precious minutes of air every passing second. They had no idea how much air was on this tiny pod but however much time they had was cut down by what would normally be considered an insignificant crack.

They sat down next to Ella on the back end of the pod. “I don’t know.”

“Are we going to die?”

Yeah, probably. “Let’s not think about that.”

Silence. Utter silence accented by the hum of jets pushing the two deeper into the abyss and the hiss of escaping air for far too long. Cadence lay their head back and watched the never ending sky above, wondering what affliction would get them first, air running out or dehydration, when something caught their eye. They were cruising through the solar system of a blue giant star that was taking up half their view through the windows, but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment.

They pointed the speck out. “Ella, look.”

She looked up and followed their finger. “Yeah, that star is pretty close. If we’re not careful we’re going to get caught in orbit.”

“No, not that. Look at that planet.” They stood to press their hand against the glass right below were a mottled blue and green planet orbited the star.

Ella squinted to pick it out from the visual noise of everything else. “… does that planet have an atmosphere?”

“It looks like it to me.”

“What are the odds that it could support us?”

Cadence chuckled nervously “I have no idea. But it looks like it has liquid water, doesn’t it? That puts it in the habitable zone if nothing else, right?”

“If that is even water. It could be like, made of sapphire and jade or something with smog clouds that will burn us up before we even touched down.”

They dropped their hand but kept an eye on the dot. “Maybe so. But if it is water, it’s a chance, which is more than we have now.”

“And if it’s not, it’s a quick death.”

“Great job on trying to look on the bright side.” They crouched down to pull at the handle of the compartment door between them and gestured for her to move to the side. Once she did they pulled the plush cargo compartment open again. “Alright get in.”

Her face twisted. “Wait, what?”

“There’s only one seat and it’s heavily padded in there. If we have a rough landing I don’t want you to smack off the windows and metal bars.”

“I’m not sure I can fit in there.”

“Well… can you try for me?”

She stared down at the hole in the floor. She was a little disappointed in herself how quickly she relented and climbed in. The compartment was lined in some waterproof fabric that wasn’t quite plastic but stuck to her skin uncomfortably all the same. Luckily she was just small enough to fit inside laying flat on her back, though she couldn’t quite straighten her knees without the top of her head sinking into the top end.

“See? You fit like a glove.”

“This feels like a coffin.”

“How fitting.” They closed the compartment door, plunging her into darkness.

“Wait wait! If this goes badly I don’t want those to be my last words!”

They opened it back up again. “Alright, what would you prefer then?”

“Uh… I’m sorry I got you mixed up with Oron and kinda ruined your life.”

Cadence’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“…and for making you put up with me ever since. And for making you feel like you had to stand up for me because I’m not good enough to stand up for myself, and-“

“Ella. I don’t put up with you, I am genuinely glad to have you in my life. I cherish the fact I was lucky enough to meet you and don’t you ever forget that. Also, Ella, you’re 13. I’m a grown adult. I stand up for you when things get hard because that’s what a competent adult is supposed to do not because you’ve somehow bamboozled me into it. You deserve to have good people in your life, I’m just trying my best to be one of them.”

Her lip trembled as she tried not to cry.

“Now, as a competent adult, I’m going to get us out of this. I’ll let you back out when we land. Sit tight, try your best to be brave.” They went to close the hatch, then hesitated. Worry this would be the last exchange they would ever have crept into their chest. “Ella, remember you are a valuable person and anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.” With that they closed the hatch and took a deep breath. It was time to put their big kid pants on and live up to being the adult they just promised they were to a scared little girl locked in a box. Having to do a chin up they clamoured into the pilot’s seat and buckled themselves into the five point harness strapping them down to the seat. Their eyes scanned over the control panel one last time. Yup, those sure were a bunch of buttons and screens.

Tentatively they grasped the joy con and tried slightly nudging it in the direction of the blue and green planet. To their relief the pod slowly turned towards their intended destination. Good. That was good. Left and right correlated directly to the pod’s direction, and taking from the earlier mishap back and forward was up and down. They wiped the sweat off their palms and shook them out. Okay, it was time to be a pilot.

They slowly aimed the joy con at the planet again until their trajectory lined up then stared at the little blue smudge as if it would run off and hide if they so much as blinked. It’s okay, this was going well. Their heart was in their throat and they could feel it slamming away in their ears. There was nothing happening, it was just waiting in silence, but at this rate they would drop dead from a heart attack before they had a chance to botch the landing.

The planet slowly zoomed in from the distance, soon Cadence could see that the planet was doughnut shape and could pick out clouds and individual land masses. That was very good, there was indeed liquid water on this world and likely plants. There were a lot of planets that only have plant like life, those planets often had the capacity to support fauna but never made the leap. If that was the case, it just increased their likelihood of being able to breath this air assuming there was nothing toxic prevalent in the atmosphere. This was good, they might actually be okay. They were going to live, probably. Maybe. It would be better if this was a plant world, plants were less likely to be hostile to alien visitors.

The planet slowly grew until it completely took up the view in the front visor and continued to expand. Cadence got the sensation of falling. gravity, this was it, they were being sucked in now. They weren’t sure they could turn back now if they tried. The silence was gradually replaced by rushing air flowing over them.

Tammy’s voice came over the speaker in the dashboard, causing them to jump out of their skin. “Atmosphere detected. Skimmer mode activated.” As Cadence grappled with what in the world skimmer mode was a set of arms sprang out from the sides of the joy con, whirling gears sliding them to either side of their hands. The arms clicked into place as did recognition in Cadence’s mind. This looked almost like a car wheel. Outside the pod two sets of wings unfolded like the wings of a beetle, clunking into place. This was good. They could work with this. Maybe they really could get the two of them out of this alive.

The pod plummeted straight downwards at breakneck speeds, the whisper of air built up into a scream that engulfed them and tried to claw their way into their brain. A cloud rushed up to them and they were blinded by white. There was no sense of up or down. Even in deep space one could see where they were in relation to the celestial bodies to get a handle on their orientation but this was like trying to fly through a sensory deprivation chamber that threatened to murder you if you didn’t realize you rolled over in the endless nothingness. There was a loud ‘plink’ like a melodic gunshot and in a blink of an eye the small crack in the glass had put down roots that covered the front windscreen end to end.

Cadence followed the destructive path of the crack, swallowed hard on the bile threatening to come up, scanned over the control panel. there were lights, buttons, dials, and a screen that showed a picture of the pod’s wings on a half brown half blue background that slowly spun around it.

The cloud cover ripped back like a curtain and Cadence’s vision was filled with endless green landscape rushing past overhead. They gawked, uncomprehending how the landscape was above them. Where did the sky go?

A siren blared a single ‘woop’ and chased it with a gravely robotic voice “too low, terrain. Pull up.”

They were white knuckling the arms of the wheel and did as the robotic voice demanded, yanking the wheel back, only to see the trees rushing closer and the siren berated their actions with a continuous wail of ‘woop woop’ “pull up.” ‘woop woop’ “pull up.”

‘You’re upside down! Invert the controls you idiot!’ Their rational mind screamed at them. With arms shaking themselves into jello they mustered every scrawny muscle in their body to shove the wheel forward. The wings in their periphery bowed with the force. The pod rumbled, shuttered, and jostled them all the way down, the alarm blared, the demand to pull up screamed at them, the only break in the pattern was Tammy’s voice cutting through the noise “crash eminent. Deploying parachute.”

There was a whoosh and the wind was knocked out of them as they slammed against their restraints. They looked back up in time to see the foliage crash through the compromised windscreen. instinctively they flung their arms over their head as thick chunks of glass rained down upon them. They took a breath but was cut short before they could scream.

—————————————————————-

When Cadence closed the door to the cargo compartment it was so dark she didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. The waiting was agony. There was no way to get a grip on wether it had been minutes or days since she was put in there. The cushioning was soft, but the plastic-like lining was weirdly sweaty. The only noises were the hum of the engine below her and a high pitched hiss. A small cold draft could be felt filling the small space. A pod like this was intended to transport personal plants, the hiss was likely its own air supply. It was thick, sterile, and almost tasted medicinal. Ella didn’t like that it reminded her of a hospital, but it would keep her alive even if all the air leaked out of the pods main chamber.

The thought sent a pang of panic through her heart. What if Cadence already ran out of air? What if she was just floating aimlessly through space with the corpse of her mentor only a foot or two away? If this was happening, what could she do about it? If the air ran out and she opened her compartment, would she die too? Would her air be enough to keep Cadence alive for a little longer if she did? The indecision paralyzed her, and like normal her course of action was to do nothing, keep on keeping on, and bare it.

Despite the stress of this likely being the last moments of her life, she was almost dozing off to sleep when the pod jostled and she heard Tammy’s voice muffled through the walls. “Atmosphere detected. Skimmer mode activated.”

There was a mechanical whirling and the pod jostled, the right hand wall became the floor and she flopped onto it. The planet had an atmosphere which was already better than expected. She readjusted herself to the new direction of gravity and braced her hands against the wall and top. The wind outside sounded like a train in the distance until it began to scream right up next to her. She tried to stay calm, tried to breathe, but burst into tears when the alarms started, warning about low terrain and upcoming crash. It was too loud, she clamped her hands over her ears as she was thrown every which way, bouncing off the confined walls of the compartment. She was going to die, she knew it, this was it, stuck in a metal coffin on some backwater planet where no one would find her.

There was something about a parachute deploying when she was slammed against the wall hard enough to have the wind knocked out of her despite the padding. There was the sound of hale before a tornado battering the outside of the pod and the feeling she was being struck hard from every direction until, finally, it all came to a sudden thunderous halt. She slammed into the front panel of her box hard enough for it to buckle outward, creating a crack in the seam where light poured in. The shattering of glass and impact of metal against stone deafened her as she felt something crack and pop inside her torso.

All at once it was over. Steam hissed out from somewhere within the pod and the air was tick with the smell of chemicals that threatened to choke her out, but it was otherwise silent.

Blinking she tried to clear her vision of the black static that swarmed her. Everything hurt. Breathing burned like an acid bath in hell. She curled up in the tight space to recover. Well, she was alive, and she wasn’t turned into a paste and squeezed through the crack in the compartment so something went right. A thought nagged at her, it was too quiet. Shouldn’t Cadence be talking? Checking up on her? Surely they’d be screaming at least… oh no.

“Cadence?” She called out tentatively. When no response came fear crept into her voice “Cadence!? Are you okay out there!?” She began prying at the door to the compartment until it popped open and she came spilling out. The pod was upside down, the roof crushed in, and every single piece of tempered glass blown out into a dusting of glittery shards that covered everything in pain. It was dark out, what little sunlight made it through the thick foliage was tinted dark green.

The pilot seat was sprouting out of the ceiling, Cadence’s arms dangling limply from out behind the backrest. Their green cardigan sleeves torn, chunks of glass poking through the shredded fabric, the cuffs and forearms stained dark and sagged down covering their hands. She crawled out of the compartment and slowly made her way around to the front of the seat. Their pink hair was streaked red, a small part of her hoped it looked darker because it was wet with sweat. That hope was short lived as they saw the dark streaks down their face. Their eyes were closed, one of the lenses of their glasses was shattered, the glass stuck in their cheek.

“Cadence?” A sob cracked her voice “Cadence are you still with me?” With a shaking hand she picked up one of the larger shards of glass. There was a trick she read in a story once to check if someone was alive, she held it above their nostrils. A new wrack of tears shook her when she saw the glass fog up with their breath. They were alive, she was alive, they both survived. Battered, bruised, and busted up, but alive. The air was breathable, at least for now, and they didn’t die in the crash. There was hope.

She took a deep breath, then wailed when a sharp pain dug deep into her side. She clutched at it, and cried. “Okay. Okay I need to be brave. They’re hurt so I’m in charge now. I need to be brave.” She sobbed.

Reaching up she tried to grab onto Cadence’s upper body in hopes of preventing them from smacking into the ground. Pressing the button in the center of the harness, it popped free, sending them both sprawling across the ground.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She cried as she flipped them over onto their back. The fact that didn’t wake them was worrying, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. She untied the starry bow and slipped it from the shirts collar, tying her puffy hair back with it for safe keeping, and moved on to unbuttoning the shirt and cardigan. the first thing she saw beneath was a long thin chain necklace with a black plastic tube featuring a bright red tab at the end as a pendant. Deciding that was none of her business she brushed it to the side where it went to hide under their armpit. Their torso looked intact, though a star of dark blotchy dark bruises were already in the beginning stages of forming from the seat belts. Nothing looked broken, that was good. She couldn’t do anything about internal bleeding beyond hope they didn’t have any. Next step was the arms. There was so much glass. She plucked a small piece out, a bead of blood formed and slowly trickled down their arm. She removed enough of the glass to get their arms free from their clothes. The limbs were a wreck, glittering and misshapen from the glass embedded throughout. The skin looked torn and pink flesh peeked out at places. She did the best she could to get the glass out, but there was no way to be sure she got all of it.

The best she could do was her best and her best was good enough. It had to be good enough. She kept reminding herself of that as she tore strips of their shirt to use as bandages. She wound them tight around their limbs, then tied them off in a bow.

They still weren’t waking up. It was time to figure out how to survive on her own on an alien planet. First line of business was water, she always heard water was the most important, a person could only go a handful of days without it. She pushed Cadence into the storage compartment for somewhere soft for them to lay while she was away. It was big enough for her to lay down in but she could only fit their torso inside with their legs sticking out. That was good enough.

She had to crawl her way out of the busted window to make it out of the wreckage. The ground below her was soft, and there was a series of shredded fabric and ropes trailing behind pod and tangling up in the foliage like the train behind a bride’s dress after she’d gone running through the woods. The plant life around her was huge, with broad fleshy leaves in a green so dark they almost looked black blocking out the sun. She could see where the pod had bunched through them like a bullet, creating a single hole of off white light shining down behind them.

Despite the shade it was hot and stifling, the air was almost sticky with humidity that slicked her skin and misted her hair. She shedded her hoodie to use it as a marker to show which direction she went in just in case help arrived while she was away and plunged into the dark forest.

The air felt like it was steaming her lungs from the inside out. The gloom made it difficult to see. It wasn’t long before she was pushing thick stems and leaves out of her way. Everything was pressing into her and it was all becoming too much, but she pressed on, swallowing the growing frustration. With all the humidity there had to be water nearby, she just had to find it. Stopping to listen for if there was a river or a waterfall nearby. The thick forest was deathly quiet, no bird song, crickets, or creatures rustling in the underbrush that she was used to growing up on her home planet. The only noise to be heard was the occasional wind that swayed the thick broad leaves above but couldn’t breech the thick canopy to bring her some relief from the heat.

There was a large spade head shaped leaf that sulked to the ground on a fleshy green stalk. It had collected droplets of the humidity that slid down into a small pond at its tip. Ella approached it cautiously and peered into to the clear mirror like pool. There didn’t appear to be anything living in it, it didn’t smell weird, it should be fine, right? But how was she going to carry it back with her?

Looking around she spotted what appeared to be a green bell shaped flower that drooped low on its stem close to the ground. It was almost as big as she was but it would work well enough. Grasping it by the base, she tried to pull it free. Her ribs did not like that one bit and let their displeasure known by radiating hot pain through her side. Her legs buckled, she tried to hang on. There was a wet pop as the flower pulled free and the stem and she fell hard on her butt, the jolt causing her to scream. She lay on the ground panting, trying to catch her breath as the pain of her ribs raked through her chest.

When she recovered she opened her eyes, climbed to her feet, and gently dipped the flower into the puddle to collect the water. It was unwieldy, and sloshed this way and that, but it would be enough to get it back to the pod if she was careful. If she was lucky maybe Cadence would be awake and they would know what to do next. Or they may have died while she was away. She shook her head to clear the thought, her puff weighed down with the humidity bouncing side to side with the movement. Everyone was alive until proven otherwise. Nullian once told her hopelessness kills and she wasn’t about to test that theory.

Turning around to head back she was met with two orbs at the end of stalks that reflected brightly in what little sunlight filtered down from above. Were those there before? She couldn’t recall. Probably best not to dwell on it. Hefting her water flower she marched bravely onwards back to the pod, at least that’s what she intended to do until the orbs blinked at her.

“Uh, hello? I don’t mean any harm.” She called out.

the stocks disappeared beyond the foliage moved, and a grand blob of a creature dragging its belly on stumpy legs pushed the thick forest of grass aside.

Ella’s eyes grew wide “oh, hi there. Uh, are you friendly? Do you want to be friends?”

The entire front end of the creature opened like a black hole and a long bulbous tongue shot out. Ella squealed and flung herself out of the way, dropping her flower and spilling all of its content onto the ground in the process.

Just as quick as the first bolt the tongue retracted and launched again. Ella scrambled away and took off into the forest back towards the pod. The thick greenery whipped at her body as she ran and the leaves threatened to blind her. The creature launched its entire body to get its mouth closer to her to strike again. The ground shuttered as the beast came crashing back down behind her, almost tripping her up. The tongue stuck to a leaf inches from her head and ripped it back into its mouth. It swallowed it like it was natural then swiveled its eyes to lock on Ella once more.

The beam of light through the ripped hole in the canopy shined through the undergrowth like a lighthouse through a storm. Doubling her efforts she beelined to it, burning all her energy to gamble on the broken shell of the pod being enough to protect her. She burst through the tree line and slid like she was going for 4th base, her little green sneakers blazing a trail through the glass and debris to slide through mostly unscathed into the pod.

“Ella?” Cadence was sitting upright now. Blood streamed down their face and stained the collar of the cardigan they had put back on. Their eyes were dazed, unfocused. “Ella what’s going on? Do you know where we are?”

Blood and busted ribs be damned she flung herself into their chest like a toddler hiding from the boogie man. “There’s a monster!”

Cadence stared dumbfounded through the busted pod screen just in time to spot the eye stalk poke its way inside. “Oh no, none of that thank you.” They fumbled with their necklace until they were able to fish the small tube out from between the two of them. They used their unbuttoned cardigan to shield Ella’s face, squinted hard through the one good lends they had left in their glasses, took aim, and sprayed it liberally at the eye stalk. A stream shot out like a water gun over the monster’s eye, and despite the attempt to shield her an oily spicy smell coated Ella’s throat and burned her nose and eyes.

The eye retracted inside it’s stock like a bowling ball sinking into jello as the beast bellowed like a freight train with a kazoo lodged in its whistle. The ground shimmered and some bits of glass shook free from the busted pod as the beast hopped away in pain, deciding to try hunting easier prey instead.

After a few seconds Cadence let the tube drop and swing back against their chest. They leaned back, closed their eyes, and absently rubbed Ella’s back as she curled into them on the floor and sobbed.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when her crying calmed down into the occasional hitched breath or shuttered sob.

“Feeling better?” Cadence tentatively asked in a soft voice as if they were trying to entice a scared puppy out of its hiding place.

Ella’s voice wavered. “Not really…”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s okay to feel bad I’m right here with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I went to get us water and that monster tried to eat me.” Her sobs picked up again “and I ran back and led it straight to you because I didn’t know what else to do and I dropped the water so it was for nothing!”

The rubs tuned into patting “hey, it’s okay, what matters is you’re okay. We can try again later but what’s most important is that you’re safe. We can get more water but we can’t get another you… though I’d like to ask why the water is so important.”

“Because if we go only a couple days without water we’ll die.”

“Three days.” They corrected automatically “do you think we won’t have anything to drink? Can you tell me where we are and what’s going on? Why are we hanging out in this ship wreckage at least. Did something happen?”

She rubbed her arm over her eyes to clear her tears as she leaned back to look up at them, blinking in confusion. “What? Everything just happened, how can you forget already?”

They wiped a hand across their cheek and looked down thoughtfully at the smear of half dried blood that streaked their palm. “I think I hit my head pretty badly. I think I knocked whatever happened here right out.”

“Um, what’s the last thing you remember?”

There was a long pause. “Describing what a milkshake is to Flick this morning.”

“Oh boy, uh, well. I made Evelyn super mad and she shoved us in a pod and ejected us into space. You flew us to a planet because it looked like it was in the habitable zone of this solar system but we crash landed and you were hurt and I didn’t know what to do and this is all my fault and-“ she started speaking faster as she went until she started hyperventilating.

Cadence wrapped their arms around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Hey! None of that. You just said Evelyn pushed us in. That’s not your fault.”

“I made her mad.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do other people are still in control of your actions.”

She sniffled “you already said that.”

“Well, I was right before and I’m right now.”

They leaned back and closed their eyes again. A beat passed in silence. Everything hurt.

“What do we do now?” Ella ventured, scared of the answer.

“… nothing. This pod is as good as a tent, and it’s not particularly good at that either. I don’t think we could get it space worthy again even if we had the best engineer in the galaxy with us. We don’t know this planet, I’m not sure if the water you tried to collect would be safe to drink, or if there would be anything edible for us here. Honestly the fact we can breathe the air and there seems to be no ill effects yet is a small miracle in of itself. I’m sure the pod had some kind of tracking, the crew back on the B.S. Lucky will notice both it and us are gone and come looking. We just have to sit tight until then.”

Ella felt something die inside of her. Her mouth quivered, but she swallowed the dread and curled up against them. There was nothing else to be done but sit back and hope. “Okay.”

The two curled up together, each as the other’s only comfort, and settled in to wait. Possibly for the rest of their lives.

Path Trajectory:

[return to follow ship]

[continue to end]

#sci fi #sci-fi #sci fantasy #oc #original writing #oc writing #short story #cadence #Ella

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nxturesbxst-blog · 6 years

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ROLEPLAYING HISTORY.

the rules are simple! post ten characters you’d like to role play as, have role played as, & might bring back. then tag ten people to do the same (if you can’t think of ten characters, just write down however many you can & tag the same amount of people). aside from that, please repost instead of reblog!

CURRENTLY PLAYING :

Pidge Gunderson/Katie Holt ( you are here!)

Charis Heartfilia (Fairy Tail OC @descendantsofairytailrp)

Igneous Scarlet ( Fairy Tail OC )

Zain Dragneel ( Fairy Tail OC )

Naomi Dragneel ( Fairy Tail OC )

Tyler Fullbuster ( Fairy Tail OC )

Danny Marvel ( Fairy Tail OC )

Chris Fernandez ( Fairy Tail OC )

Ian Lockser ( Fairy Tail OC )

Sakura Haruno ( @bubblegum-warrioress )

WANT TO PLAY :

Zim ( Invader Zim )

Dib Membrane ( Invader Zim )

Raven Jospeh ( Criminal Minds OC)

Kimiko Fukuhara ( Fandomless, werewolf OC )

Akemi Hamasaki ( Creepypasta OC )

Marinette Dupin-Chang ( Miraculous Ladybug )

Sara (Tales of Link )

Kana ( Tales of Link

Cole Brookstone ( Lego Ningago )

Hikaru Shidou ( Magic Knights Rayearth, wouuld be a mix of the manga and the anime)

HAVE PLAYED :

Ciela Phantomhive (fem!ciel, private rp)

Lixue Lau (Fandomless oc, private rp)

Shaiwase (Fandomless oc, private rp)

Rosemary Williams (Black Butler OC, private RP)

Matthew Willian/Canada ( @innocent-notinnocent-canada )

Lucy Heartfilia ( private rp )

Sebastina Michealis ( fem!Sebastian, private rp, don’t judge the name best I could come up with on the spot )

Jane the Killer ( private rp, where I actually started rping actually )

Tomoya Hirai ( fandomless oc, private rp)

tagged by: @teamspider10

tagging: @duckbuttavenger @miiraculeuxbelle @commander-holt @omonarch @catncir @red-paladin-of-marmora @panickypaladin @legacybcrn

#time to fix rover again {ooc}#lets fly this into space! { dashboard games }#//thanks for the tag!!

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kusaka6e · 2 years

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TUTOR

three | four | five

chapter list

———

the next day, you drive over to see your brother after your morning lectures, the cold winter air cutting through your clothes as you approach the entrance

you pull a mask over the bottom half of your face as you enter the building, thankful to be out of the cold.

"hey (l/n)! how are you?" the charge nurse waves from her desk, eyes crinkling into a smile from underneath her mask.

"hi suni, good to see you again."

you make your usual route down the hall, knocking gently when you reach the door.

"hey bub, you awake?"

"hi sissy." he paused his switch, smiling at you from his bed. you sigh, seeing the multiple bags of fluids on his iv pump.

"how come you're hooked up to so much stuff today?"

"the nurse said my platelets went down last night, so they're giving me more today." you nod, trying your best to not let any negative emotion show.

"i brought you something. the book store on campus got more in a couple days ago." you unzip your backpack and produce the next few volumes of a shounen manga your brother had been raving about.

"no way!! thank you!" he smiles brightly, wrapping his small arms around your torso. as you hug him back, you feel how much thinner he's gotten and internally sigh.

"do you like your nurses this time?"

"they're really nice! i don't remember her name, but the one from a few nights ago helped me get vending machine snacks." he's smiling brightly and talking with so much enthusiasm, you almost forget why you're there.

you stay for a couple of hours, playing games on his switch and talking to each other about schoolwork and other random things until he falls asleep.

as your packing up your things, there's a soft knock on the door.

"oh, hi (l/n)! i was just coming to check on him, you guys need anything?" one of the nurses you'd seen before whispers as she comes in

"no thank you, i'm just about to head out. can i ask you a couple questions?"

"of course." she nods away from the room, gently closing the door before facing you.

"is there any update on the waitlist thing?"

"because of his age, he's been made a priority patient on the waitlist; which is great! but, he's taking to this round of treatment fairly well. it has been tiring him out but the tumor isn't growing and there aren't any new ones."

"that's so great, thank you. and, thank everybody here from me, you all have been so wonderful."

"we're happy to help. you take care of yourself too honey, we'll see you next time." you give her a small wave before heading back to your car.

you glance up at your dashboard, cursing when you see '4:18' written on the clock. if you hurry, you'd only be a couple minutes late.

at 4:29 you fly into a parking space, throwing your car into park as you sling your backpack over your shoulder.

thankfully, baji is sitting at the same table you two were at yesterday, so it's not hard to find him once you enter the library.

"what was that you said yesterday about making an entrance?"

you glare at baji as you pull your notebook and a stack of paper from your backpack, brushing your hair out of your eyes. his hair is pulled into a bun, some baby hairs falling around his face.

"didn’t wanna be late." he grins, hearing the same words he said to you yesterday.

"i was looking at the notes you wrote me yesterday and i got confused."

"about?" you were greatful for baji not picking up on how stressed you were, or at least wasn't saying anything about it.

"how to get answers with this avo... ago... avor?"

"spit it out already." you giggle, his face twisted in focus.

"av... avocado's number. i don't know how to use it."

"avogadro's number. let me see the problems."

he noticed you looked stressed, different from your usual collected demeanor. given, this was only the second day he'd actually spent time with you. but, whenever he saw you with mikey or on campus, you always came off unbothered and put together.

"okay, we're gonna do some practice problems. you gotta know this to be good at stoichometry."

"stoich-y what?! i thought this was chemistry!"

"stoichometry is a part of chemistry, dipshit. it's just a fancy way to say dimensional analysis."

"that already sounds fancy, don't make it even more complicated."

"shut up and do the problem."

just like the day before, it takes him awhile, but all the problems get done without any mistakes after a number of tries and a multitude of questions.

"no celebration routine today?"

"not until i don't need your help with anything, remember?" he doesn't look up from having his head tossed back in exhaustion, long eyelashes fanning towards his eyebrows. you let out a small smile, surprised he remembered what you said.

am i blushing ?? ew

"well we've got a ways to go, but you're not doing too terrible."

"wow, thanks for the encouragement." he chuckles, lifting his head to look at you.

"i've gotta go but i'll see you next time, text me when you wanna meet up again."

"bye (l/n)." his eyes stay on you as you exit the library, sighing.

....

"what's got you quiet?" chifuyu raised an eyebrow at baji, lighting the joint in his hand.

"grades. chemistry sucks."

"how's that tutor mikey found for you?" he notices baji tense, smirking.

"she's really smart."

"and...?"

"and what?"

"is she hot?"

baji's lack of an answer makes matsuno laugh, letting a puff of smoke exit his lips.

"so, when are you gonna ask her out?"

"dude!"

"you're not? why don't you give me her number then?"

"i'm not giving you her number!" baji glares at him, jealously kicking in before he can try to keep it under wraps.

"i'm just fucking with you, i'm not gonna mess with her."

"it's not like she'd hang out with me other than tutoring."

"what makes you say that?"

"because she's so like.... together . she never seems stressed or mad, or sad, or anything."

"so? mitsuya comes off that way too, look how quick he is to knock someone out. i don't think you know her well enough to say that yet."

baji sighs, holding his hand out to chifuyu and taking a drag from the blunt.

"i guess it can't hurt to try, right?"

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x y/n #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu #baji fanfic #baji fic #baji x reader #keisuke baji #baji #baji keisuke

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes—” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #Frankie morales fanfic #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie x reader

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derpcakes · 2 years

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Who wants to hear about a book that gave me psychic damage?

In Remi K. England’s 2022 YA novel The One True Me and You, worlds collide when a teen beauty pageant and a fan convention book the same hotel. Our main characters are Kay, a fanfic writer tentatively trying out they/them pronouns in the supportive, generally queer space among their fandom friends; and Teagan, a pageant contestant gunning for a much-needed scholarship and keeping her geeky tendencies and her lesbian identity firmly under wraps. The two meet when Teagan sneaks into a con event, and sparks fly. etc etc. It’s a rom com.

The fan convention is for a fictional story-within-a-story called The Great Game, a modern adaptation of the Sherlock Holmes canon. Kay narrates that it’s one of many, but it’s the best one out there: better than Elementary, and certainly better than the BBC one. Except, of course, it becomes fairly obvious that The Great Game is a fictionalised stand-in for the BBC’s Sherlock, and Kay’s fandom experience a stand-in for a very particular strain of Tumblr culture surrounding the series. Let me tell you seeing “JohnLock” shipping terminology on the page of a published book in the year of our lord 2022 made me a little dizzy.

The whole thing is so... SURREAL. Much of the novel’s depiction of fan practice feels like it harkens back to a just-bygone era, making it feel oddly detached from the flow of time. The vision of Scroll—a fictional blogging platform clearly meant as a stand-in for Tumblr—as a creative, queer-friendly fangirl paradise where everyone gushes about their ships and learns about social justice issues, feels deeply anchored in the culture and perception of the site from circa 2012 – 2016.

Even the vision of “geeks” as social outcasts rather than, well, pretty mainstream, feels older too. Catchphrases like “witness me” and “BAMF” and “for the win” are pulled from an Internet lexicon of at least six or seven years ago and placed in the mouths of fictional teenagers ostensibly living in the present.

Even little details, like the characters brewing ship-themed tea blends, wearing vintage-style dresses printed with fandom references, talking about a bad episode as The One That Shall Not Be Named, someone “squee”ing at one point, even the construction of usernames… as someone who’s been on Tumblr for many years, watching Big Fandoms like Sherlock from the sidelines, it feels familiar, churning up memories from a dashboard of days gone by.

Teagan, at one point, references a pageant from 2019, meaning the plot takes place at least a year after that. And yet, how can it, if it presents such a pre-DashCon image of online fan antics?

I almost wonder if this uncanny sensation could have been offset by making the novel a period piece, explicitly setting it in 2013 or 2014 and turning its nostalgic undertones into overtones: committing to creating a fictive time capsule of Tumblr and SuperWhoLock’s halcyon days. I wonder, too, if this manuscript was written closer to that heyday, and is (as can happen with the weird loops and timelines of a publishing career) only hitting shelves now—arriving on the scene when what was once a contemporary story now feels rather dated.

I don’t know that, though I do know from the acknowledgements that England intended The One True Me and You to be a cathartic, fun, wish-fulfillment story representing the queer fan experience they feel they missed out on in the ‘90s and early ‘00s. And as an outlet for that, I think the novel is wonderful, even if it’s rocketed me, personally, deeply into the uncanny valley.

I wonder how it feels to read this as someone who was much deeper ingrained in Sherlock Tumblr? I wonder what the hell it feels like to read this as a modern teenager—the book’s intended audience!!

Years out from Sherlock’s pop cultural relevance, when its fandom has faded from the dashboard-dominance it once had, and when public perception of the series has generally soured and many people’s favourite piece of Sherlock-related media is ‘Sherlock is Garbage and Here’s Why’… can the wholesome and squeeful depiction of Sherlock-ish fandom in this book possibly resonate with any young people? I know marketing demographics aren’t always the best insight into a story’s inner workings, but I have to ask: who IS this for?

It’s not a bad book, and I don’t want this to be taken as a bad review of it. Sure, I found it to be weaker than England’s sci-fi novels: the prose is sometimes plain and leans on telling rather than showing in places, and it wraps up maybe too swiftly given the emotional weight of what happens in the climax. There’s also something to be said for how it’s vision of fandom as a queer paradise of acceptance where everyone is friends is... maybe a little overly-rosy. But if you’re in the mood for a short, cute, fluffy little queer romance between a pair of horny but endearing-enough teens, it will do the job. It will also rocket you back to a hyper-specific moment in fandom history with force that may or may not leave you with a neck injury.

#I'm not tagging this I don't want my hollering in the tag to get in the way of people who actually really enjoyed the book #followers? you get to holler with me

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smegdwarf · 3 years

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But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer X Reader) - Chapter 4

A/N: Prepare yourself for fluff!

Warnings: None, all fluff here!

Summary: Pretty much giving Rimmer the love he deserves.

Even after a month or so dating, sneaking around to spend time alone, Rimmer still couldn’t quite accept that you had chosen him. As much as you didn’t want to hide it, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed teasing him and winding him up. The colour of his cheeks when you’d catch him staring at you, the feeling of him trying not to react when you place your hands on his shoulders or your favourite, watching him get flustered when you lean over him to reach the other side of the dashboard. The teasing and winds up however weren’t always one sided, Rimmer slowly started to play you at your own game, every now and then letting his hand graze yours as he walked past or randomly shooting you a sweet smile that he quickly began to realise you couldn’t resist.

After a tiring trip to what was thought to be a abandoned derelict but turned out to home a couple of rogue Gelfs, the crew were finally on their way back to Red Dwarf with Lister and Cat slightly ahead in blue midget. The trip was never meant to be a whole crew outing but when Lister and Cat didn’t return when they said they would you made the decision to go and find them with Rimmer and Kryten in starbug.

“I’ve switched to autopilot” You heard Rimmer speak as he walked into starbugs stern where you were working on Kryten, followed by a clang as your head hit the metal droid above you as you shot up without thinking.

“Ow!” You winced as you rolled out from under the work bench Kryten was laying on.

“Oh god are you ok? I didn’t mean to scare you?” Rimmer panicked as he crouched down next to you.

“It’s fine, I somehow forgot I was working on a solid metal Android for a moment there” You laughed as you rubbed your head, you might be hard light and practically indestructible but you could still feel pain ...something you always thought of as a disadvantage.

“What are you doing anyway?” Rimmer asked curiously as he helped you up.

“Krytes took a bit of a hit in the bazookoid fire with the Gelfs and said some of his wires might have come loose so I said I’d take a look” You explained “He kept stuttering and switching to Spanish mid sentence”

“Is he ok now?”

“Yeah I was just closing him up and about to reboot him” You smiled as a smirk started to appear on Rimmer’s face “What are you thinking of?”

“He’s on downtime right?” Rimmer smiled, his cheeks blushing at the thought of what he was about to suggest.

“Where is this going Arnie?” You raised your eyebrow at him, you liked this side of Rimmer.

“Well we don’t have to boot him up just yet?” Rimmer’s eyes darted to the side as he walked back towards starbugs cockpit.

“Well what do you want to do?” You asked as Rimmer sat down at the dashboard.

“I just want to spend time with you” Rimmer smiled sweetly.

“You know that cute and innocent act doesn’t work on me anymore, what were you thinking of?” You smiled leaning against the side of Rimmer’s chair.

“I feel awkward now” Rimmer chuckled quietly “Don’t worry about it”

“I’ll go reboot Kryten then?” Before you could even think about moving Rimmer’s hands were on your waist and pulling you down onto his lap “Well I definitely wasn’t expecting that”

“So what do we do now? This is kind of as far as I got?” Rimmer mumbled a little, still feeling awkward.

“Well we could make out?” You shrugged as Rimmer’s cheeks flushed red once more.

“But this is Listers seat? We can’t do that in his seat he’ll go mad?” Rimmer rambled.

“What Lister doesn’t know won’t hurt him?!” You laughed quietly as you let your arms rest gently round his shoulders.

“And what about Space Corp directive...” And with a small shake of your head and no further hesitation you collided your lips with his, his arms not having quite found their rightful place.

“Rules are made to be broken Arnie!” You spoke quietly as you kept your eyes focused on his.

"Well normally I’d disagree but I’d break every rule for you”Rimmer smiled as he leant in to kiss you.

“Since when did you become such a sop?” You spoke softly as you returned the kiss, you would never have put Rimmer down as the soppy lovesick kind but after all for him this was the first time he had ever truly been in love.

“You’re asking me?” Rimmer chuckled as he took every second of this moment with you, his arms resting gently at the bottom of your waist, finally finding where they belong.

“How long till we’re back to Red Dwarf?” You asked gently brushing back a curl that had come loose from his face as he smiled softly leaning into your hand.

“Annoyingly not long” Rimmer sighed as a light a on the dashboard started blinking.

“Rimmer, Y/N, Krytes, you there?” Listers voice boomed through the speaker.

“Listy? Are you ok?” You asked as Rimmer froze in the seat beneath you.

“Y/N are Rimmer and Krytes with you?” Lister asked.

“What do you want Lister?” Rimmer grumbled, his grip tightening on the arm of the chair.

“Hello to you to Rimmer” Lister taunted “Cat and I just wondered if you three wanted to join us in a couple card games when we get back?”

“What kind of card games?” You asked curiously, making sure you didn’t get accidentally roped into a game of strip poker.

“I’m gonna teach Cat how to play Fish!” Lister chuckled.

“Yo bud did you say fish?” Cats voice mumbled in the background.

“Yeah count me in, what about you Arnie?” You gave Rimmer a smile you knew he couldn’t resist.

“Fine count me in too” Rimmer gave you a playful glare.

“Where’s Kryten? He hasn’t said anything?” Lister addressed the elephant in the room as you and Rimmer looked at each other in panic.

“Erm...” Rimmer stuttered as you quickly thought out an answer.

“Krytes is on downtime, I’ve just finished fixing him up” You spluttered fast enough to not invite speculation of what was really going on.

“Fixing him?” Lister replied confused.

“Yeah he took some damage in the gunfire but he’s fine now” You quickly explained as Rimmer became fidgety and anxious beneath you as you cupped his face gently in your hands before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead to calm him down.

“Brutal! ...well we’ll see you back on Red Dwarf” Lister bought and accepted your story that was some what true but not the whole truth.

“Good god” Rimmer let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Right I better get our mech friend back up and running” You smiled as Rimmer pouted “Hey don’t look at me like that”

“Damn I thought that would work” Rimmer chuckled as you stood up “Go on then, go boot up the bog bot!”

“Before I do...” You smirked as Rimmer raised his eyebrow at you confused, leaning in closer to him as your lips met his in the middle.

“Just as I planned” Rimmer laughed quietly as you walked slowly back to Kryten.

“Yeah yeah” You teased before leaving the cockpit.

Before long you were back on Red Dwarf, with Kryten fixed and rebooted and back with Lister and Cat. With freshening up and a meal out of the way the four of you sat round the table in the boys sleeping quarters ready to begin game night with Kryten enjoying making his way through a big pile of ironing.

“So Cat do you get the rules of the game now?” Lister stared Cat down from the opposite of the table.

“Yeah let’s play” Cat replied as Lister shuffled the cards before dealing them out.

“Right Y/N you can go first!” Lister smiled as you lifted your eyes from your cards to Rimmer who sat opposite you.

“Aright then ...Rimsy!” You smirked as Rimmer raised his eyebrow, caught completely off guard by the change in name “Got any 3’s”

“Go fish smeghead!” Rimmer lips too turned into a smirk as he spoke, meanwhile you pretended to strop as you took the card from the top of pile in the middle.

“Cat your turn!” You smiled as Cat too looked at Rimmer.

“Goalpost head!” Cat stared Rimmer down.

“Is this whole game just going to be you lot picking on me?” Rimmer asked with a small smile, all the while you were winding him up too he didn’t mind.

“Got any fish?” Cat asked, having not understand any of the rules of the game as Lister shook his head.

“You’re supposed to ask for a number Cat?” Lister explained again.

“Why would I want wheel-arch nostrils number?” Cat screwed up his nose.

“He meant a number card Cat” You explained softly.

“Anyway where’s the fish?” Cat furrowed his brows as everyone shook their head with a sigh “You can’t ask a cat to play this game and not give him a fish?”

“It’s the name of the game you doink!” Lister finally broke “There’s not actual fish involved”

“No fish?” Cat looked at Lister almost offended “I don’t know why I bother?”

Just as Cat went to storm out a faint noise could be heard just outside the ship.

“Can you hear that noise?” Rimmer screwed his nose up as he tried to listen.

“Yeah it’s you smeghead” Lister teased as Rimmer sighed.

“No I can hear it too” You said curiously as you walked over to the window.

“It appears to be the Gelf ship we saved Mr Cat and Mr Lister from” Kryten chimed in as Rimmer and Lister joined you by the window.

“I think we should head down to starbug now!” Rimmer’s voice was stern as he spoke, while on paper he was only second tech as far as he was concerned he was in charge.

“Wait a minute ...what’s that?” You pointed towards the distant red splodge flying over the Gelf ship.

“That’s another ship ma’am” Kryten finally joined you over at the window.

“Gelf?” You asked as Rimmer’s hand found your wrist, his grip tightening as the Gelf ship got closer and his concern for you grew bigger.

“Whatever it is we need to move!” Rimmer reminded everyone of his previous idea but before anyone could consider moving the Gelf ship went up in pieces, the blast radiating through the Dwarf and sending everyone and everything flying.

Without a second of hesitation, Rimmer arms were wrapped around you as you both fell to the floor. Not wanting you to get hurt he used his own body, wrapping himself around you to cushion your fall.

“Are you alright?” Rimmer asked trying to catch his breath as he helped you up.

“Yeah thanks to you” You smiled sweetly, for the first time Rimmer had been brave and heroic rather than the coward everyone knew him to be as your well-being and safety weighed far more than his own.

Rimmer had completely let down the high walls he’d spend his whole life building for you and only you. All Rimmer had ever wanted was to love and to be loved and with you he had everything. He was completely and hopelessly in love with you and for the first time in his entire existence he was happy.

“Hey look it’s that other ship!” Cat pointed out as the ship got closer to the dwarf.

“Oh god no” Rimmer grumbled as he realized who it was.

“It’s Ace!” Lister exclaimed as everyone except you and Rimmer scuttled off to the landing bay.

“No no nooo” Rimmer sulked as he sat on his bunk, his self esteem going from 100 to 0 in a matter of seconds.

#arnold rimmer #red dwarf #arnold j rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #rimmer #hologram #red dwarf fanfic #rimmer x reader #arnold rimmer x reader #fanfic #fluff #arnold rimmer fluff

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calmlftv · 4 years

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4 a.m. - m.c. blurb

description: a fight brings you out on a late night drive, and forgiveness finds its way to you.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: VERY brief scenes/flashbacks involving yelling/hurtful words, a lil bit of angst but a happy ending

w/n: i wrote this while feeling some things during lockdown so pls enjoy! 💕

taglist: @spicycal @castaway-cashton @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @notinthesameguey @blackbutterfliescal @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv

****

“What did you just say to me?”

You winced, the painful sting of Michael’s words hitting you again as you pressed your foot against the gas pedal, shooting down the road your home was on as you escaped the mess you had left behind. The way Michael’s voice deepened as his volume rose stuck with you, his words making your ears ring as you had fought back tears, silently grabbing your keys and slamming the door on your way out.

The night air was much colder than you had expected but you left your windows down anyway, the chilly air drying the tears as they fell from your face. Your car was deadly silent, the only sound being the wind whipping through your windows as it covered the sounds of your sobs that shook your entire body, the heaves in your chest making your lungs ache as you wept over your steering wheel.

It had been obvious from the way Michael stomped around the house that he was upset, the more obvious sign of him locking his office door after you had gone in to bring him lunch only solidifying the thought in your mind as you sighed. Throughout the day you still tried to reach out to him, texting him to ask if he wanted tea or to play a game together to try and cheer him up, only to be left on read every time, a frustrated sigh escaping you as you finally just left him alone. He only appeared again when you were cleaning up from making dinner, the shuffling of his feet against the floor alerting you to his presence. When you demanded a reason for his mood he snapped, voice rising as he looked at you. It only got worse from there, the two of you screaming at each other until your throats were raw and you were on the verge of tears, leading up to this very moment where you pulled off the road and followed the lightly made tire tracks to your look out.

When you got out of your car you leaned against the door, your eyes taking in the sight of the city lights cutting through the darkness, the neons meeting your eyes as you stood up straight and closed your door, settling on the hood of your car as you tucked your knees against your chest. You wrapped your arms around your legs as you just sat there, staring blankly at the city as you lost yourself in thought once again.

Michael’s face was tinted pinkish red, eyes bloodshot behind the black rims of his glasses. His jaw was clenched and locked, the muscles moving as his hands tugged on the hem of his shirt, the fabric bunching up when he released it and repeated the action. You could tell he wasn’t going to stand down so you took a breath, hands flat against the cool countertop as you exhaled.

“Michael just tell me what’s wrong-”

“Why, so you can be overbearing like always?” He snapped, his voice low now as his shirt went slack again. “Stop trying to fix me, y/n, I’m not some broken project you can piece back together!”

You felt an angry blush cover your cheeks, the feeling moving down your chest and over your body as you spoke, tone sharp and voice loud. “I’m not trying to fix you, asshole, I’m trying to fucking help! I’m your girlfriend, I’m allowed to be worried-”

“I never fucking asked you to worry about me!” He yelled, spit flying from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, you’re just as bad as-”

“What did you just say to me?”

Pain radiated through your body, the ache in your chest returning as you let out another sob. Your face buried against your knees, hating the words you said to him and the ones he said to you, resenting the way your voice shook and rose as you got more and more upset. Your fights were always few and far between, but when they happened they were a messy explosion of emotions, typically ending with the two of you tangled under the sheets of your shared bed as you owned up to your mistakes and gained forgiveness.

This time, though, there was something different radiating from the two of you; maybe it was the stress of the lockdown order getting to you, maybe the amount of time you’ve been forced to spend together was finally taking its toll. Maybe a mix of both, along with the stress of working from home and whatever else could be affecting your love as he was forced to stay away from his friends and family. You knew this was taking a toll on both of you, but you didn’t know it could get worse like this.

You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a car door closing, the sound startling you as you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. Familiar footsteps came up from behind you as you stared ahead, refusing to look at this person joining you.

“This spots kinda sketch,” a soft voice stated, the phrase being something you’ve heard hundreds of times as Michael walked up beside you, his hands in his pockets as he stood next to your car. The headlights from his Tesla were still shining over you, washing everything in a yellowish tint as it disturbed the pitch darkness around you.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you didn’t answer, still not looking at Michael as he sighed. You sensed movement as he lifted a hand and scratched the back of his neck, his hands tugging down his sweater sleeves until they rested over his palms. He always hated colder nights, a very miniscule pang of sadness hitting you until you brushed it off.

“Petal,” he said softly, his eyes trained on you as you just stared ahead. His heart broke into a million tiny pieces when he saw your puffy eyes, knowing he was the cause of the tear stains on your shirt and jeans and the numb feeling on your shoulders.

He quietly climbed on the hood with you, leaving space between you as he settled in. It was quiet again, this time for much longer as he joined you in looking over the city, the sounds of the night surrounding you both in the warmest hug despite the obvious chill.

“I’m sorry,” Michael stated, voice a bit shaky now as he took a breath. “I crossed a line and...projected my feelings about everything on to you, and that’s not fair. You didn’t do anything wrong, I shouldn’t have used you as my verbal punching bag, and I’m really really sorry.”

You were silent as he finished, taking a minute to mull over your words before you found your voice again, lips parting to speak.

“Am I overbearing?”

Michael paused, not exactly expecting you to ask a question. He chewed the inside of his cheek, weighing his own words before he spoke again, honesty dripping like honey from his tone. “Sometimes you are. But it’s how I know you care.” He paused again, chirping insects filling the gap. “If you were to ever stop checking in and worrying about me, that’s how I’d know I’ve lost you forever.”

More tears threatened to fall at his words and you pushed them away, knowing he always brought you honesty when you asked him questions like that. You took a deep breath and let it out through your mouth, the sound of your own breathing calming you down enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you said simply, voice still raw as you winced at the ache. “I know I should have given you some space instead of checking in so much. You would have come to me when you were ready to, and I just kept pushing until you broke.” A slow sigh escaped through your nose before you continued, your eyes moving to Michael as he looked at you. “And I forgive you. But can we talk through things like this? My throat kind of hurts.”

A smile broke through Michael’s face, his teeth shining as he slipped an arm around you and pulled you close. “I promise I’ll talk more. I never want to yell at you ever again.”

You smiled in return, his lips pressing sweet kisses to your forehead as he pulled you into his lap, arms keeping you as close as possible while he bundled you against his chest. Another silence fell, this one much more comfortable as you both watched the city move below you, cuddling on the hood of your car as Michael’s body warmed you up.

After a while Michael yawned, releasing his arms from around you as he stretched them up. You sat up a bit and shivered, the air quickly stealing away the warmth you had just experienced as you started to stand up.

“Probably should head home,” you mumbled, Michael nodding along as you both scooted off the hood, eyes scanning it for any dents or scratches before you moved to your cars. His hands held the door open for you, kisses being stolen before you got into the driver's seat and started the engine, immediately cranking the heat to get warm while Michael went to his, quickly moving out of the way as you both drove back home. Your dashboard clock alerted you the time, the

The drive home was quicker than the drive out, your favorite Mowgli’s tune blasting as the two of you pulled in, both of you getting inside quickly as the dogs bounded over to you. Moose whimpered at Michael’s feet and he chuckled, reaching down to scratch her ears as South sniffed around your feet.

Before you could pick him up for cuddles Michael’s hands were on your hips, tugging you close against him again as he pressed his lips to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his squeezing your hips as he held onto you, unwilling to let you go as you stood in the entryway of your home. It took everything within both of you to pull apart, breathless as you held on to each other for dear life.

“I love you, baby,” you said softly, your eyes meeting the beautiful mixture that up your boyfriends, a smile tugging on the corner of his lip as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you, too,” he said sweetly, lips moving to your ear. “Maybe I can show you how much in our room?”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, nodding as he took your hand and led you to your bed, tangling under the sheets again and again until you both finally fell asleep.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael clifford blurbs #blurbs.mc #5sos blurbs #5sos angst

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Someone Left to Save (10)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: What isn’t strictly prohibited but you feel its illegal? Writing drafts of my fanfic in my office desktop LMAO the banking industry here can be pretty tight with their rules tho. AAAAAHH So sorry I haven’t been posting!!! For the past 2 days, I was finishing this whole chapter and I’ve gotten into like one-fourth of the next chapter!! (stay tuned! that one’s gonna be intense! ;w;)

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

10 of ?

Relying on the spies’ intel didn’t cut it anymore, so getting out there was the best course of action. You perfectly knew that this is no race against the other Inquisitors, and each Jedi is just hunted game in the eyes of the Grand Inquisitor, Darth Vader, and the Emperor altogether.

You marched to the hangar with a graceful, poised stride. When you saw the hangar officers conversing by the entrance, they stiffened at the sight of you.

“Prepare my ship!” you barked.

The mechanics and engineers scrambled to your TIE Fighter—distinguishable by its black body, a red intercrossed stripe making the cockpit look like a rifle’s reticle from the outside—you watched them inspect, recalibrate, and refuel the vehicle before confirming that it’s safe for travel.

“All engines go for your TIE Fighter, Twelfth Sister,”

“Good,”

You climbed the ladder to the cockpit and made yourself comfortable. The mechanics scurried to detach the hooks and cables strapped to the vessel as you pump up the engines. The hangar attendant waved his signal rods in front of your cockpit as you slowly hover forward, following the path the attendant is carving for you, when you inched closer to the open air you cranked the throttle’s lever and accelerated. The rotors rippled out a ring of dust and air as it slowly gained some velocity, and then you zoom out of the hangar like a black comet and out of Mons Golotha.

In less than 20 minutes, the X1 TIE Fighter’s speed hindered as soon as it entered Mons Golotha’s exosphere. Staring back at you through that cockpit windshield is the star-dotted vacuum of space.

“Okay, Cal sweetheart, where could you be hiding?” you mutter to yourself as you fire up the nav computer.

You drive the TIE forward, farther and farther away from the orbiting moon, you weren’t trying to pick up a signal—you’re trying to find some peace, ironically, in the dead blankness of the galaxy in the hopes to pick up where you left in your meditation earlier. Your grip loosened, no more than a delicate, dainty hold of the steering wheel, you let go and let yourself get lost in concentration.

The heavy, gloomy hum of space helped you drown out all of the white noise in order for you to focus better. A silent call whose echo reaches as far as the system in the ten parsecs. You struggle to recall the image of the place where you saw Cal in—that’s your next best shot in finding him.

A blinding red hue—it’s either morning or afternoon wherever he is. You could even feel the prickling heat underneath your suit.

An arid wasteland. A single city perched atop one of the mesas erected across the sandy, barren expanse.

This planet is wholly new to you.

You see Cal standing atop a mesa whose surface has cracked, brought upon by intense drought, it overlooks the small city not larger than half a quadrant of Coruscant’s city block. The image sharply jabbed its way through your skull, causing you to flick your eyelids up, and return to reality.

“Jeddah!” you gasped its name.

The place is unheard of to you, going back to Mons Golotha to check the archives would prove to be inconvenient. The next plausible move is to follow your instincts. You crane the neck of the nav computer so it faces you, then your fingers tapped away with the buttons—it was strange, though you weren’t startled, you knew exactly what its coordinates are, and so you charted your course to Jeddah.

When the computer screen glowed green and showed a map of the destination, without reluctance, you punched it—pushing the steering forward and the TIE Fighter cuts through the empty space like an arrowhead.

—–

JEDDAH

Cal sits at the edge of the exact mesa where you saw him in your vision, taking under the stout branches of a dead tree. He’s lost count of the days you’ve been gone, he wagered it to be roughly a month now—and he still hasn’t moved on, he refuses to. Gradually, his new habits have become routine to him, not that he’s gotten any better; he remains stoic, almost unfeeling, and his fighting has lost its grace.

If only you could see him now—he’s riddled with sear marks either from his pastime tinkering or the miss-by-a-hair grazes from Stormtroopers’ blasts, bruises, and brand new scars. He refuses healing from Merrin’s magick and makes do with the stims BD-1 supplies for him; but truthfully, he prefers your Force Healing. He misses the warm touch of your palm flat on his skin, wherever his injury might be, the soothing sensation might as well be a thing of the past for him.

The humid wind blows over his cheeks, red sand pricks at his freckles. He sits there, eyes closed, feeling for something cannot name yet knows wholeheartedly.

“[Y/N]…” he mouthed. The utterance of your name is carried away by the wisp of sand.

Nothing.

He yearned to feel it again. He had hoped he would.

His meditation bore no fruit due to his desperation, impatience, and a directionless, bottled up anger.

“Come on…” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut as the rays of the sun blazed through the spaces between the tree branches.

Over several parsecs away, Cal’s voice saying your name—all but a whisper—and a deep humming rang altogether behind your ears. In the first few minutes, you’re unbothered by it, until it did reach you. Your eyes on the windshield wandered, searching the skies for the source, spotting planets and moons here and there.

Cal locked in on the connection, his furrowed eyebrows now relaxed, his breathing calmed and he maintained the ideal, tranquil stillness of his meditation.

The humming grew louder, it evolved into a deeper, more baritone rumbling—like a stampede in the distance—you kept looking for its origin, but neither a single planet nor moon in the system you’re in seem to have the answer. You lent a few more minutes of listening in, hoping you’d make sense of it until you picked up the same familiar sensation as earlier.

“[Y/N]…?” asked Cal, confirming your presence through the Force.

You didn’t speak, you exploited the connection to clear out the cloudiness surrounding your objective. The red mesa in the desert appeared before your eyes, a dead tree, and the city overlooking the city sitting atop a single, erect rock pillar large enough to cradle it.

[Y/N]…! Please…!

A wicked grin snaked on your face. Your jaw clenched and your eyes had a sinister glint.

“Found you!” you hissed.

According to your nav, you’re two systems away from Jeddah. You pulled the computer by its metal neck, your fingers flying all over the keyboard as you calculate the jump to lightspeed.

Never have you ever punched the buttons on the dashboard of your fighter, you were particularly fond and careful of this TIE Fighter, though the excitement of finally spotting your prey caused you to crank the steering wheel forward so hard that the cogs inside groaned, consequently making the thrusters roar with great enthusiasm and haul the vessel at its full speed.

You grinned as you put the pedal to the metal with your fighter, you licked your lips and smirked.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m coming for you.”

The young Jedi got out of the trance and he’s out of breath, exhilarated by the fact that you are alive after all this time—after all this time of defending that exact same point in every debate amongst the Mantis crew—but connecting with you felt different and eerie. BD-1 inched closer to his owner, his scanners picking up Cal’s stress levels and his increased heart rate. A single chirp caught the boy’s attention.

“It’s [Y/N], BD, but…”

“Bee…?”

“I have a bad feeling about her,”

The droid was in disbelief, BD never imagined—not even his processors and circuit board—that Cal would say that about you! He sent out a whole string of trills, questions that Cal couldn’t translate one at a time. He eased his little droid companion, gently gesturing at him to calm down.

“I think we need to tell this to Cere,”

The most concrete proof he could ever get a hold of was a connection from you through the Force. He questioned himself if Cere would believe him, considering she is the closest he can come to in terms of the ways of the Force.

Cal comes rushing back to the Mantis.

“Cere!” he started to call repeatedly when he was only a few meters away until he got into the ship.

The boy was a huffing and puffing mess when he threw himself into the ship, startling everyone and inadvertently interrupting their individual pastimes.

“Cal? What happened?” Cere had to lower her leather journal away from her face just to check on the boy.

“Are you alright?”

“Slow down, kid! It’s not like we’re leaving without you all of a sudden!”

“That’s not it!” he panted. He then turned to the older woman. “Cere, didn’t Cordova write something about having two Force-sensitive beings connecting or communicating through the Force?”

The more Cal rambled on with his queries, Cere had to put her book down on the lounge table to listen to the redheaded youngster. She knows he’s onto something—his excitement is just making slightly incoherent. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the boy is unconsciously unfurling new discoveries with the ways of the Force.

“Well, I just connected with [Y/N]!”

Greez cuts in as politely as he can. “Wai—Wait, how did you know it was [Y/N]? Moreover, what do you mean by ‘connect’?”

“Her voice!” he then remembers the eerie feeling that he put him off during the trance. “But… something doesn’t feel right.”

“About what? About [Y/N]?” Merrin joins in on the subject, curious and intrigued about your well-being, pausing from her tending of the terrarium and stepping down to the lounge table.

“So is it really her or just some random voice you heard that sounds just like her? My poor brain inside this gray head of mine can’t really grasp all of your Force mumbo-jumbo.”

“Cal, you don’t think—?”

Cal immediately refuses Cere’s theory without even letting her finish.

“No!” he bolts. “It can’t be. It’s impossible!”

“Cal, we can’t say for sure. But if you do have a bad feeling about it, then you best be prepared for what you’re about to see when she comes to you.”

There was a foreboding tone in Cere’s voice, consciously warning the boy of what’s to come. In his mind, Cal battled with himself and his inhibitions.

It’s not fair! In his mind, he whined like a child, on the verge of sobbing.

In what ought to be roughly a month and few weeks since you disappeared in Ulfin, his ecstasy in knowing that you truly are alive is instantly overridden by the fear that he cannot pinpoint yet—more like, he cannot accept yet should it be realized.

Coming out of hyperspace brought you to half a parsec away from Jeddah. In the nav, you can see the designated planet outlined in green amidst the others drawn in blue, blending in with the screen’s dark blue background.

You eased down to the regular flying speed as you close the distance between you and Jeddah. While the TIE Fighter cruises through space, passing by the neighboring planets, you cannot help but feel… bothered. Earlier, before you went to hyperspace, you were quite startled with how you behaved—you have never acted like this before. This was your very first solo campaign, as well.

Could it be excitement? For what, exactly? For doing something you want all alone—exactly how you want it? Perhaps.

Uncertainty? Because within the recesses of your being, the old you still lives albeit imprisoned?

“Enough!” you roared, leaning too hard and too fast to accidentally hit the back of your head. “Aaargh! Ow…”

You finally calmed down, for real this time, and your attention from the pain rippling across the back of your skull shifted to the repetitive bleeping of the nav computer. You leaned closer to the dashboard, peering on the screen; the radar indicates that you’re approaching the planet’s orbit. You buckle up and prepare the first phase of atmospheric entry.

Your arms flew in all directions, flicking switches and pressing buttons all over the ship—setting up the shields, applying the right amount of pressure on the steering wheel to counter the gravity, and finding the optimum speed. You close in on the bright, sunshine-gold sheen of Jeddah’s atmosphere.

The leather sank as you lean back, the turbulence made the ship rattle under your feet—the shields are doing its job to keeping the shaking to a minimum—and the TIE Fighter tore through the skies easily.

“Well, that turned out more effortlessly than I expected,” you sighed. “Now, to find you, Cal.”

The same feeling you had when you were still out in space returned, only this time, much louder and more prominent. There wasn’t a doubt that you’ve come to the right place; the connection has staled over time, perhaps Cal has given up in trying. The TIE Fighter circles in the skies in search for a specific city atop a mesa, at least a common signal belonging to it.

Along Cal’s trek, he spots your TIE Fighter—in perfect coincidence—zooming through Jeddah’s sky as a growing black speck. He squints his eyes and shades them with his hand over his brows.

“That can’t be good.”

“If this thing could hold a droid, things would’ve been much easier!” you grumbled as you manually optimized the transmitter. You sighed when no blips popped on the radar. “Might as well find someplace to land.”

At first, the ripple of the Force—barely a whisper again, drowned by the engine hum of the TIE—ran in the back of your mind. Unconsciously feeling it, you’re practically welcoming it; Cal gets the exact same feeling as he watches your TIE Fighter circle the horizon, curious what this lone fighter could be doing in some place as desolate as Jeddah.

He senses the familiarity from the TIE Figher’s pilot, of all people, and little by little he starts to think that it’s not impossible.

31 notes · View notes

the-hs-etaverse · 5 years

Text

Driving

John: He’s a fairly good driver when he doesn’t want to fly, he just hits the brakes and the gas too hard sometimes. He also has no fear of tight turns. He will go 40 around a hairpin bend. “what do you mean, it’s not normal to have your body jolt from side to side while you’re driving?” He’s never been in an accident.

Rose: Legit has no fear of death. Also, she’s a New Yorker, so that automatically means she’s mediocre at best. Merges in as tight a gap as she can possibly manage. “I would have had plenty of space if you had only paid attention!” Listens to podcasts and audiobooks during long trips. Forgets to turn them off when the cops pull her over. Pays her tickets.

Dave: Decent. Plays the radio, but not very loudly. Has been known to switch on cruise control and put his feet up on the dashboard. Fell asleep while driving once. He woke up and saw that his car had been totaled and that there was lots of shrapnel in him, so he went back in time to fetch his past self out of the car before succumbing to his wounds. He is haunted by the experience to this day. Has never gotten a ticket.

Jade: Has never been in a car before. Never wants to get in a car. Dave makes fun of her, like, “all dogs love car rides and im sure youd love sticking your head out the window” but that only makes Jade more determined to avoid car rides like the plague. She teleports everywhere. She teleported to a hospital once and legit gave the nurse a heart attack.

Jane: Drives very well. Obeys all the rules of the road. Stays five over the speed limit. She keeps her car clean as a whistle: she makes everyone knock off their shoes before getting in her car, and God forbid if you eat anything. She probably has one of those “St. Christopher Protect Us” visor clips despite not being Catholic. (She’s Lutheran.)

Roxy: Is Not Safe. Has been in at least three accidents. Blasts rock music. One time [this is based on a true story], she was pulling into the driveway with her radio blasting away, and Dave, Jake, and Karkat were outside, and they started waving at her because there was something scraping the ground on the underside of her car. Her response? Turn the music up EVEN LOUDER, drowning out the scraping, and wave back.

Dirk: Excellent driver. Forgets to use turn signals. Occasionally drifts around corners, but only when nobody’s around. Occasionally puts Lil Cal in the passenger seat so he can use the carpool lane. For whatever reason, doesn’t ever let anyone ride with him.

Jake: Is a surprisingly good driver. Sometimes, he’ll get carried away with talking to his passengers and will have to be reminded to keep his eyes on the road. He uses one foot for the gas and the other for the brake, so occasionally, there’ll be this terrible grinding noise when he tries to brake. Put diesel in his car once. [Also based on a true story.] Nobody will let him live it down.

Aradia: Drives decently well, but does NOT put her hands on the wheel. She turns it with her telekinesis. She says “it helps me get a better feel f0r the car”. She has received numerous tickets. She does not care. The government can’t catch her if they can’t find her.

Tavros: Can’t legally drive because of his paralysis. He’s afraid of cars, partly due to his aforementioned paralysis. “dON’T YOU KNOW, hOW MANY PEOPLE, gET INJURED IN CAR ACCIDENTS,” Jade is more than happy to teleport him wherever he wants to go.

Sollux: Doesn’t have a license. Carpools with Aradia all the time. Knows how to drive in theory (because Video Games), but doesn’t. In video games, he’s fast and very prone to drifting, but somehow never crashes ever, except in the most extreme of situations.

Karkat: Doesn’t own a car. Very good driver. Complains constantly about all the other drivers. I mean, he’s good, so he’s justified? But still? Sometimes, he slows down in front of particularly pernicious vehicles just because he can. Slows down but does not actually stop at stop signs. Sings along with the radio.

Nepeta: Chaos driver. Makes U-turns whenever and wherever she wants. Goes out of her way to run down squirrels. (But not deer, because Equius would throw a fit.) Gets serious road rage. Honk at her? The next ten seconds of your life will be hell. Her car’s a legit mess.

Kanaya: The go-to carpool lady, if you're not in a rush. Very safe driver. Always drives the posted speed limit. Doesn’t move from the right lane, ever. Has threatened to turn Aradia in to the government. “Dont Make Me Turn This Car Around” Plays show tunes and sings along. Karkat and Roxy will join in.

Terezi: Legally blind and cannot drive. Is still a backseat driver. Every once in a while, she’ll yell “R4C3 R4C3 R4C3″ or something. Five minutes later, she’ll accost the driver for not using turn signals. Nepeta let her try driving one whole time, in an empty Target parking lot at 3 in the morning. It... went surprisingly well. They almost crashed into a line of shopping carts, but it still went well.

Vriska: Her license was suspended a year ago. Don’t ask why. She’s currently plotting to get it back.

Equius: Excellent driver. Stays 5 over the speed limit. Fixes everyone’s cars, so long as the customer does him a favour in return. His car is immaculate, somehow, despite letting the likes of Nepeta into it.

Gamzee: The epitome of not caring. Drifts over lanes. Coasts through red lights. Has miraculously never been in an accident. Has been pulled over multiple times but has never been arrested. The police are afraid of him for some reason. Tries to charge people to carpool with him, but nobody ever wants to.

Eridan: Pretty good. He also has a boating license. Never uses windshield wipers, for some reason. Is actually fond of hydroplaning? NEVER ride with him when there’s precipitation.

Feferi: CHAOS DRIVER ROAD RAGE GET OUT OF HER FREAKING WAY

Calliope: Very good. A little too tentative sometimes. Never takes a turn faster than like 5 mph. Not overly fond of driving. Doesn’t have her own car.

Caliborn: Reads your bumper stickers to decide whether or not to cut you off. Has his brights on in the middle of the day. Goes 30 mph in parking lots. So basically, not horrible, but also very jerkish.

98 notes · View notes

eyeless-cunt · 4 years

Text

I was planning on posting the most recent chapter earlier but I forgot and to make up for it here is chapter 4 👊😔

(submission) aka i didn’t write this it was submitted to me uwu 🌸

Witness Protection

You know the drill

Chapter 4

"So why do you look so uncomfortable?" You tilt your head. He remained silent. "Hey, come on, after what just happened I deserve to know something about you,"

"What just happened doesn't matter," He stated, back to using that monotone voice. You huff.

"We kissed!"

"You and I both know it meant nothing,"

"But still-!"

"Dropping the subject now," he shut up. You groan and smack your head against the window. You mutter an ow, sitting up properly.

"Does the radio work?" He shrugged. You reach over and try to turn it on, only met by static on all of the channels before it shut itself off. "Great," you grumble quietly to yourself. You pat a small beat on your lap, the silence driving you mad.

"Stop that," your head rolls back against the headrest on the seat, rolling your eyes and glaring at him.

"Well then do you have any idea what I could do to entertain myself? Don't get me wrong I'm really enjoying these 'chats' of ours where I try to strike up a conversation and you completely ignore me, but I'm kind of going insane," you groan loudly. "There's like nothing for me to dooo,"

"Play a road trip game or something,"

"You need two or more people for those, and you're highkey too boring for them,"

"I'm going to pretend I know what highkey is and tell you to figure out how to do it yourself," You groan again, leaning forward to smack your head on the dashboard space right above the glove box.

"I spy with my little eye, an annoying bitch," you huff, crossing your arms.

"You?" Your eye twitches. "No? Damn. Ok, my turn, I spy with my little eye an annoying little cunt that is going to be gutted and left to bleed out in a river if she doesn't shut her fucking mouth,"

"Lemme guess. You?" He made a 'wrong' buzzer sound.

"Wrong, try again,"

"Me?" you sigh.

"Bingo, now shut up," You grumble some unheard curses and lean your elbow on the weird arm rest thing on the side of the door, resting your head in your open palm. There was a long silence. It felt like it must've been half an hour, at least.

"I'm still bored,"

"It's only been 10 minutes since you told me that," he stated.

"Feels like longer, now entertain me,"

"In case you don't remember, I kidnapped you and am in no way obligated to entertain you,"

"Can't I like, borrow your phone or something?"

"I would be an idiot to let a hostage use my phone," It's becoming painfully clear that he is not going to cave anytime soon. You sigh and stare out the window, watching other cars pass by with a half lidded expression. "Eat or something,"

"Bored eating is how I get fat,"

"Then suffer in silence," Another silence washed over you, the uncomfortable humming of the vehicle becoming the only thing you could use from drifting off into insanity. The car stopped after a long while, and he climbed out.

"Where are you going?"

"To eat," You raise a brow.

"Why would you need to get out to eat?" He smiled at you, condescendingly. The effect of the meds had worn off by this point, revealing sharpened teeth. You gag, remembering what he had eaten back at the hotel. "Yeah, please do that far away from me,"

"Planning on it, I don't need puke in my truck," He slammed his door shut. It is only five minutes after he's left the truck that you are even more bored than before. Yet another heavy groan leaves you. Patting a small beat on your legs seemed to help, but only barely. You glance behind you, seeing him in the back of the truck. Well, you could only see his back, as he had it facing the cab section of the truck. Should you go out and bother him? One on hand, there was a strong possibility of you vomiting up your lunch from earlier. But on the other hand, he was your only source of entertainment. Your boredom won over your common sense and you unbuckle, trying your door. Child locked, of course. Your gaze flicked to his door. Glancing back out the back window, you sneakily climb onto the drivers side seat, trying the door handle. The door popped open and you felt like cheering. You wouldn't though. If he was gonna be mad about you sneaking out of the car you might as well spook him too by surprising him.

A small tune hits your ears as you step out of the truck, closing the door quietly. Your footsteps fell silently on the dirt as you approached. Granted, the heels made walking uncomfortable, but you'd rather suffer through the curse that is your work shoes than walk around barefoot. Random thought aside, the tune sounded like quiet singing. It was barely audible, barely above a whisper, but pleasant sounding. Your brain caught up with your ears and eyes and quickly came to the conclusion that Jack was singing, very softly. The song was unfamiliar to you, but his voice did sound nice, so you quietly hop onto the bed of the truck, next to him, all while ignoring the empty freezer bags that used to hold what you knew to be some poor man's insides. He paused for what seemed to be an instrumental break, as he nodded his head a little to the rhythm in his head.

"For a murderer, you're pretty good at singing," you comment, breaking the silence. Nothing will ever compare to the joy you felt as Jack's eye sockets shot open, and he squeaked loudly, standing in an apparent flight reflex before almost tripping over the rim of the bed in his shock. However, you did not laugh, for you were no fool. Although it was increasingly tempting as his grey face grew to be a bright red, non existent eyes widening in pure shock, terror, or embarrassment.

"How much," he muttered, blinking with a gulp.

"What?"

"How much did you hear," he elaborated.

"Not much, I've only been here for maybe a minute or so,"

"Too much," he took a shaky breath.

"What?" he repeatedly shook his head.

"Too much," he muttered again before muttering something very quietly to himself.

"Truck. Now," he vaulted himself over the edge. You raise a brow and climb off the bed of the vehicle. He gripped your arm and guided you to your side of the truck, opening the door. "In," You scurry in, clicking the seat belt into place. He seemed… stressed. He climbed in a little bit after, seemingly having cleaned up the remnants of his meal.

"So uh-,"

"Don't- don't talk,"

"But-,"

"Shhhh," he whispered, holding a shaky index finger to his lips to signify silence. With a deep breath, he strapped in and turned the car on, getting back on the road. Despite the radio not working, the clock did, and you stared at it. For an hour. You knew because you had watched an hour pass on the old digital display. Finally, he sighed.

"You can talk now, I guess,"

"What the hell was that?"

"Probably a nice mix of anxiety and embarrassment smooshed together to create a hellish combination of wanting to die,"

"You have anxiety?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you nod slowly.

"You're singing was nice," you murmur.

"Uh, thanks," he muttered. "I don't uh- I don't typically like people listening-,"

"That would be totally understandable if you weren't that good at it,"

"If you think complimenting me will make me let you go, you're wrong," he visibly tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the black fabric of his gloves pulling taut.

"Wasn't what I was going for, but ok,"

"Then what were you going for," he sighed heavily.

"Could you sing something? Like, louder than a whisper?"

"No," his response was immediate. "Absolutely not,"

"What? It's not like I'll be able to tell anyone," he did a small leg bounce.

"Will you shut up about being bored if I sing one song?" A hum and a nod from you give him his confirmation. "Shit…," he sighed under his breath. "Did you have a song in mind?"

"No," he groans quietly.

"Not a single one?"

"No," you shake your head. "Hadn't planned on you saying yes, so just pick one you like," He threw his hand up in what could only be exasperation.

"Fine, fine," he took a deep breath, looking about ready to start. "Do I have to do this?"

"If you want me to shut up," He whined under his breath.

"But-,"

"Stop stalling and you can get it over with," You lean forward to see his face, which is still beet red with embarrassment, but this time with pursed lips.

"Gah, fine," he huffed, defeated. With another deep breath, he began. "I can't get a hold, hold on myself, tossin' and turnin' and screaming' for help. So much to say, so many words, but sometimes, you're lookin' so good that it hurts,'' You blinked slowly, eyes slowly widening. He'd probably stop if you said anything, so you remain quiet and avert your eyes from his head, leaning your head in your open palm again as you listened to the song. It wasn't a very fast paced or high energy song, making it sort of soothing to listen to. Mixed with his strangely superb singing voice, it melded together into a calming melody that was slowly making you relax and be ready for a nap.

"I know I'm not right, I'm messed in the head, so hurt me, desert me, just leave me for dead. I'm thinkin' 'bout thinkin', now my sun is shrinking'. I know I can float, but I'm sinking' instead. I don't wanna lose you, glad that I knew you, don't wanna be in my own head," he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as you were, except he wasn't dozing off like you. As he neared the last few sound effect things that were in the song, you had closed your eyes, breathing slower. In your half asleep state, your brain registered that he had finished singing, but it didn't matter to you as you slipped into unconsciousness, willingly this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was out cold and he sighed in relief, leaning his head against the back of the seat. Never again. Never again will he sing like that for someone else. Too much pressure on him to make it sound good, even if he didn't give a flying fuck about her opinion of him. Her sleeping form made him realize just how tired he was and he yawned. He'd gotten a max of two hours the night before, and even then they were the suckiest two hours of his life. This just meant he needed to get to his next hotel set up. He pulled the car over again and pulled out his phone, scrolling through nearby hotels. The closest was two hours away. He groaned silently and checked the bookings for it anyway. There were also no double beds. Peachy. Just peachy. His bottom lid twitched before he smacked his forehead on the broken horn again, sighing heavily in exasperation. No doubt she was going to bitch, but he really didn't have a choice. He needed proper sleep and she'd have to deal. He booked one of the rooms and took a breath to recollect himself before shutting his phone off and stuffing it back in his pocket. If he was lucky this place would have booze or something, it would be great to have a nice bottle of whiskey or something when dealing with this woman. The drive was obviously quiet, her soft snores the only noise to drown out the sound of everything wrong with his truck. In the silence, his mind wandered, as it usually did, which led him to the question of what the hell was this woman's name. It had been on her name tag, probably, but that had been stained with blood and removed earlier that day. Damn, he didn't even know what it began with.

Regardless, he drove in complete silence. Fastest two hours of his life, if he was being honest. With how tired he was, the promise of a nice bed and possibly alcohol made him a little giddy. The parking lot of the hotel came into view and he cheered quietly.

"Yes!" he sighed in slight celebration, pulling into the lot and quickly finding a place to park. He shut the car off and got his pills and took two. He liked to call them 'normal pills' because they made him look, well, normal. Anyway, he climbed out of the car and walked to her side, opening the door and climbing up on the step. The button clicked once he pushed it, and the seatbelt came up to go back to it's weird resting position against the side of the cab. He scooped her up bridal style. He was going to have to sell the dating thing again, not wanting to risk the weird look his mind guaranteed would be sent his way. He shook his head, removing the thought from his mind and hopping off the step, using his shoulder to push the door closed. With a quick grip adjustment, he headed for the door, barely making it through the sliding doors, as he was too impatient to wait for them to open fully. He did the usual checking in process, the person at the front desk only glancing at the sleeping woman in his arms.

"Girlfriend?" They hum. He nodded. "Keep any noise you make tonight to yourselves,"

"What?"

"Be quiet," They clarified. He flushed up at what they had implied, and began to stammer over some of his words. They snort. "Calm yourself down boy," He swallowed.

"S-Sorry," They shake their head.

"Anyway, the pool is that way, the exercise room is right next to it, there's a bar over by the breakfast area. Pool hours are 9 AM - 11 PM, same with the exercise room. Bar is open from 7 PM - 6 AM," They hand him his key card. He nods a thank you and hurries to the stairs. It's more than a few floors up, but he didn't feel like going to find the elevator just yet. The woman stirred in her sleep, but he was too absorbed by his thoughts to notice.

"Jack?" He almost dropped her down the stairs in fright.

"Yeah?" he shook his head, resuming his climb.

"Where are we?"

"The next hotel,"

"Oh… what city are we in?"

"Only a fool would tell his hostage what city he's moved her to," he huffed. "And I am no fool," She grumbled.

"Dammit,"

"Don't pout about that, I've been fairly decent to you so far," She glanced up at him, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, but why?"

"You're more obedient when you're well taken care of,"

"Oh really? And what proof do you have for that?"

"You didn't tell that woman I had kidnapped you," he hummed.

"Because you were right next to me,"

"You've listened to my orders, more so when I'm not being violent,"

"I-,"

"You aren't resisting now, either, especially since you have the chance," That one was a test. He just told her she had a chance to escape. She remained still, cradled in his arms. "You aren't going to even try?"

"The stairs are really steep, I don't wanna risk falling," He nodded.

"Fair," He glanced down. "But I would fall too, wouldn't I?" More testing. He had to be sure she wouldnt run off on him if he had to leave her alone in the room for something.

"Just because you kidnapped me doesn't mean I want you to fall to your doom on a hotel staircase," she crossed her arms, huffing.

"Ok, Ok," he stopped talking. She continued to pout while he made his way up the rest of the stairs, onto their floor. Their room was at the end of the hall. He grunted as he shifted her onto one arm. She grew a bit flustered, probably because she was being held on one arm and that was kind of weird. He pulled the key card out of his pocket.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ok ok ok, yeah, he's pretty cute when he's 'normal' looking. But now he's holding you on one arm. He's fucking strong. Like, really strong. 'Lord give me strength,' You think to yourself. He slides the card into the slot and opens the door, shifting you back so he was using both arms to hold you. He walked in and threw you on the bed.

"Why- why is there only one bed?" you tilt your head.

"There weren't any double bed rooms available when I booked it,"

"So we'll be sleeping on the same bed?"

"I don't care if you sleep on the floor, or the bed, or even the bathtub," he shrugged.

"Bed sounds comfy,"

"Then sleep on the bed, I'm too tired to care," he flopped back first onto the bed, sighing in relief.

"What if we accidentally spoon though?"

"Oh nooo, physical contact, what ever will we dooo??" Sarcasm was evident.

"You know for a guy who panicked when I saw him singing you're awfully chill about straight up cuddling me," He shrugged.

"I'm tired, and tired me just does not give a shit," he rubbed his eyes. "Besides, human bodies are cooler than demon ones, you'd be like the cold side of a pillow,"

"What the fuck," He let out a strained laugh.

"Sorry," he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna go get my stuff, you gotta promise to stay here,"

"I make no promises," you cross your arms.

"I could always lock you in the bathroom with no means of entertainment, or you can stay out here, in a decent, air conditioned room, with a tv. Your choice," You sigh.

"Fine," a quiet grumble leaves you.

"I'll bring the clothes and toiletries up first, so you can take a shower,"

"Are you saying I need one?"

"We both need one, I'm just saying yours will probably take longer," You mull it over.

"Fine," He gave a thumbs up and stood.

"I'll be back," He left the room. You sigh and crawl onto the bed fully, closing your eyes.

#I MISSED THESE SO MUCH #THEYRE SO GOOD #SOSOSO GOOD #creepypasta #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta x reader #witness protection #submisson #submission

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moonguilt · 5 years

Text

molten gold

(written for a zine application, but I decided I would post it here and on ao3. it’s short but i had fun with it :) happy holidays, enjoy!)

Pairing: Keith/Lance

Wordcount: 1852

Read on my AO3 here!

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

“God, I’m so boooored.” Lance’s aggravated face popped up on the Black Lion’s main cockpit window, casting a faint red glow over Keith’s dashboard. Keith couldn’t exactly blame him; this so-called “space road trip” to Earth was taking much longer than they’d hoped, and inhabitable planets where they could take pit stops were few and far between.

A yellow glow appeared soon thereafter. “It feels like we’ve been flying for quintants,” Hunk groaned in agreement, his body half-way sunken into his chair. “Have we been flying for quintants? I definitely think we have. I pee approximately every five vargas, and since we left Iyethos, I think I’ve peed like...” He lifted a hand and started counting on his fingers, then sprung up in his seat, eyes wide. “Ohh, my God, I’m measuring time in intervals of pee. My sanity has reached a critical low.”

“Good Groggery, do humans really urinate so frequently?” Blue light entered the mix as Coran’s excited face materialized far too close to the screen, his body gracelessly crammed into the space between the control panel and the chair. Allura was leaning as far away as she could, her expression torn between annoyance and exhaustion.

Keith heard footsteps behind him, and a moment later Shiro’s robotic hand settled on the chair’s backrest. “Well, it depends on the—”

“Alright, no, we’re not having this conversation,” Keith interrupted immediately, already feeling the first pricks of a headache. “I know we’re all bored out of our minds, but I’m not gonna sit through you guys having some kind of pseudo-scientific discussion about the human bladder.” He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “There has got to be something better for you guys to entertain yourselves with.”

Finally, a green-tinted video feed flickered to life on his screen. “Say no more,” Pidge declared, smirking and cockily kicking her legs up onto the dashboard, only to find that she was a bit too short to maintain the position comfortably. She struggled for a moment before admitting defeat and sitting upright again. “Guess who just finished installing the latest Monsters and Mana data into our Lions’ shared network? As well as…” She adjusted her glasses. ��... a dice bot?”

Lance was the first to react. “For real?!” he exclaimed, perking up in a way that Keith, at this point, could admit to himself was cute. “I mean—if you guys wanna play it, you know, I’ll tag along I guess.” He schooled his expression back into one of neutrality, pretending to examine his fingernails before realizing that he was, in fact, wearing gloves.

Pidge raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh, you mean you’ll lower yourself to play a nerd game with us humble nerds, huh?”

“I am feeling charitable today, Pidgey.”

Coran was leaping in too close to the screen again before anyone else could get a word out. “Well what are we waiting for? I’ve been wanting to try out my newest campaign for longer than a Yarupian Velrod’s first—”

“Hey, hang on, Coran.” Lance held his hands together in a T shape. “Keith doesn’t have a character yet.” He paused, then jolted in his seat a bit. “Or, uh, Krolia, or Romelle, or Shiro technically since, uh, you know, the last one wasn’t really his…” The faintest color started to rise to his cheeks, barely visible in the red glow of his lion’s cockpit.

Pretty, Keith’s mind informed him helpfully.

“... Anyway, plus they probably don’t even know how to play—”

“Of course I know how to play!” Romelle interjected, looking affronted as she squeezed past Coran and into the frame. “I used to play this all the time!”

“It is a highly popular Altean pastime,” Allura admitted. Only the top of her head was visible over her fellow Alteans. It seemed she had managed to squeeze far enough away in her seat to give their unpredictable limb movements a wide berth.

“And I do have my… ah… the clone’s memories,” Shiro added, his words coming out somewhat choppy and uncomfortable, “so… I know how it works. I think.”

“I will admit I am familiar with the game as well.” Keith nearly jumped out of his skin as his mother’s voice spoke over his shoulder. When did she get there? Wasn’t she sleeping? God, she was silent as the grave. “It is an excellent way during free time for Blade members to train their strategic skills and team working abilities through intricate problem-solving simulations.”

“... Yeah that sounds fun,” Lance commented in a flat tone, then waved emphatically at Keith. “Well still, Keith’s got no idea—”

Keith could hear the obnoxious grin on Shiro’s face as he inhaled. “Well, actually—”

“Shiro, no.”

“Keith’s not really as inexperienced as you might think—”

“Do not.”

“See, the thing about him and Matt and Adam is—”

Keith didn’t even allow himself a moment of pity over the slight hesitation in Shiro’s voice when mentioning Adam. He was too busy jumping up and clambering over his seat to tackle his adoptive brother. Try as he might, though, he wasn’t strong enough to get a hand over Shiro’s laughing mouth before—

“—they were total Dungeons and Dragons dorks.”

Keith let out a garbled noise, somewhere between a growl and a wail, and slumped back into his seat, letting his messy hair fall into his face. He could have sworn he heard a hum of amusement from Krolia’s direction.

He was allowed a moment of silent wallowing, and then:

“WHAT? Are you serious?!”

“Incredible! Why, Keith, if you were already fighting dragons at that age—”

“Shiro, my dude, I love and trust you, but you are definitely lying right now—”

“He’s not.”

All attention turned to Pidge, who was now fixing Keith with a knowing look that he did not like one bit.

“Pidge…” he grumbled in warning. She merely winked in his direction.

“It’s all true. Matt would come home and ramble about all the wacky quests he would send you guys on. He always took it easy on you, though, because you were a wittle baby,” she crooned, sticking out her lower lip. “Keith was like… thirteen, max, when they started. And he always played an edgy self-insert barbarian named—”

Keith’s irritation turned to absolute dread; a veritable wave of ice rushed down his spine. He didn’t even have time to protest.

“—Thunderstorm Darkness.”

You could hear a pin drop in the split second silence that followed.

“... No way,” Lance whispered, and like that, the dam broke.

Howling laughter from all around met Keith’s ears. He hunched down in his chair and shot both Pidge and Shiro absolute death glares as his teammates laughed so hard they cried. Shiro had the decency to look at least a little apologetic, but Pidge only fell into even louder hysterics.

“What?” Keith demanded hotly, his burning shame urging him to defend himself. Kosmo wandered over and began snuffling at Keith’s legs, as if sensing his distress. “I was a kid! And it’s not even that bad, you guys are overreacting—”

“THUNDERSTORM DARK—PFFFFTTT—” Lance’s laughing face was beautiful, even when he was laughing at Keith’s expense. Stupid beautiful Lance.

Keith couldn’t even find it in himself to stay mad when Lance’s bright laughter echoed around the cockpit. He was really starting to regret this whole “falling in love” thing. It definitely gave Lance way too much power over him.

Ah, did he say love? He meant crush. Stupid little crush. Keith was just very gay, and Lance was just very handsome. And nice. And smart. And funny. And heroic. And—

“Alright, everybody, that’s enough,” Shiro’s voice cut through his spiralling thoughts. “Why don’t we give everyone a minute to figure out their characters’ attributes and statistics? I’d like to make a new one too, personally.”

Everyone calmed down a bit after that; it was valid for Shiro to want to create a new character, after all. It was his own way of moving forward, in a sense. Starting fresh.

The team rambled about their past Monsters and Mana adventures while Keith, Shiro, Krolia, and Romelle listened quietly and designed their characters. Krolia’s choice of a basic fighter class was no surprise; neither was Romelle’s choice of druid, given her love of cute little animals.

When Shiro was finished, he cleared his throat and announced with great gusto:

“My character will be named Kiro. I want him to be a paladin.”

Hunk let out a defeated sigh, but everyone smartly kept their mouths shut.

Lance leaned forward then, his pretty blue eyes on full display. It took a moment for Keith to realize that his lips were moving too. Huh, that’s nice. Keith liked it when Lance’s lips moved. Oh, but they were frowning now. Wait, why were they frowning?

“Uh—what?” Keith stammered belatedly, willing his face to remain neutral. “I… zoned out.” He could feel his ears burning and quickly adjusted his hair to cover them.

Lance rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Dude, you were looking right at me while I was speaking to you, I don’t know how you managed to ‘zone out.’ Unless...” Something else must have occurred to him then, because his brows furrowed, and concern washed over his expression.

Oh no. No no no—

“Are you alright, man? You been getting enough sleep?” Lance’s gaze swept over Keith’s body, which nearly shivered under the attention. Keith thanked whatever deity out there that he still had some semblance of self control. “We don’t have to do this right now if you’re not up for it. You gotta take care of yourself, Keith,” he concluded, his tone far gentler than it had been just moments earlier.

Oh.

Something twisted in Keith’s chest at the way his name sounded coming from Lance’s lips, soft with worry. It churned and coiled around his sternum for a moment before melting into his very core, creating a hot gooey feeling that climbed to his shoulders and pooled in his stomach simultaneously. Lance may as well have poured molten gold into his veins, for all the warmth and all the worth with which it filled him.

“... I’m okay,” Keith managed eventually, dragging himself out of his reverie, only to find the rest of the team dead silent and watching him with amused expressions. “So. Um. What were we talking about?” He was so ready for this conversation to move on to safer territory.

Lance did not seem to catch Keith’s little moment of weakness, if his cheerful demeanor was any indication. “I was asking what your character is,” he clarified, leaning forward with another one of those devilish grins that drove Keith crazy in the best way. “Come on, mullet, lay it on us.”

That was enough to draw a hefty sigh from Keith, but he cleared his throat and answered anyway:

“He’s a barbarian, and his name is Thunderstorm Darkness.”

And, sure, Keith knew his teammates’ teasing would be endless. But it was a necessary sacrifice. One that paid off, he thought to himself, reveling in the fresh bout of laughter that shook Lance’s form, and the knowledge that he was responsible for it.

#its getting close to dinner time over in the states i think ish #so merry christmas eve to those of u who celebrate #and to everybody else happy holidays #this is probably a bad night to post this tbh but im impatient so here it is #here you can read this if ur antisocial and u dont wanna interact with ur family tonight #bc. mood #klance #monsters and mana #fanfic #lavender letters #i need to learn how to format fanfics nicely so they look good on my tumblr. hm #... some day

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witness-protection-official · 4 years

Text

Today’s chapter art is actually fanart made by Amiy_trash on Instagram! Check her out, she’s really good!

Warning; contains heavy swearing in some parts. Song mentioned in chapter will be linked at the end

Witness Protection- An Eyeless Jack x reader

Chapter 3

"So why do you look so uncomfortable?" You tilt your head. He remained silent. "Hey, come on, after what just happened I deserve to know something about you,"

"What just happened doesn't matter," He stated, back to using that monotone voice. You huff.

"We kissed!"

"You and I both know it meant nothing,"

"But still-!"

"Dropping the subject now," he shut up. You groan and smack your head against the window. You mutter an ow, sitting up properly.

"Stop that," your head rolls back against the headrest on the seat, rolling your eyes and glaring at him.

"Play a road trip game or something,"

"You need two or more people for those, and you're highkey too boring for them,"

"I'm going to pretend I know what highkey is and tell you to figure out how to do it yourself," You groan again, leaning forward to smack your head on the dashboard space right above the glove box.

"I spy with my little eye, an annoying bitch," you huff, crossing your arms.

"You?" Your eye twitches. "No? Damn. Ok, my turn, I spy with my little eye an annoying little cunt that is going to be gutted and left to bleed out in a river if she doesn't shut her fucking mouth,"

"Lemme guess. You?" He made a 'wrong' buzzer sound.

"Wrong, try again,"

"Me?" you sigh.

"I'm still bored,"

"It's only been 10 minutes since you told me that," he stated.

"Feels like longer, now entertain me,"

"In case you don't remember, I kidnapped you and am in no way obligated to entertain you,"

"Can't I like, borrow your phone or something?"

"Bored eating is how I get fat,"

"Where are you going?"

"To eat," You raise a brow.

"How much," he muttered, blinking with a gulp.

"What?"

"How much did you hear," he elaborated.

"Not much, I've only been here for maybe a minute or so,"

"Too much," he took a shaky breath.

"What?" he repeatedly shook his head.

"Too much," he muttered again before muttering something very quietly to himself.

"So uh-,"

"Don't- don't talk,"

"But-,"

"You can talk now, I guess,"

"What the hell was that?"

"Probably a nice mix of anxiety and embarrassment smooshed together to create a hellish combination of wanting to die,"

"You have anxiety?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you nod slowly.

"You're singing was nice," you murmur.

"Uh, thanks," he muttered. "I don't uh- I don't typically like people listening-,"

"That would be totally understandable if you weren't that good at it,"

"If you think complimenting me will make me let you go, you're wrong," he visibly tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the black fabric of his gloves pulling taut.

"Wasn't what I was going for, but ok,"

"Then what were you going for," he sighed heavily.

"Could you sing something? Like, louder than a whisper?"

"No," his response was immediate. "Absolutely not,"

"What? It's not like I'll be able to tell anyone," he did a small leg bounce.

"Will you shut up about being bored if I sing one song?" A hum and a nod from you give him his confirmation. "Shit…," he sighed under his breath. "Did you have a song in mind?"

"No," he groans quietly.

"Not a single one?"

"No," you shake your head. "Hadn't planned on you saying yes, so just pick one you like," He threw his hand up in what could only be exasperation.

"Fine, fine," he took a deep breath, looking about ready to start. "Do I have to do this?"

"If you want me to shut up," He whined under his breath.

"But-,"

"Stop stalling and you can get it over with," You lean forward to see his face, which is still beet red with embarrassment, but this time with pursed lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Girlfriend?" They hum. He nodded. "Keep any noise you make tonight to yourselves,"

"What?"

"Be quiet," They clarified. He flushed up at what they had implied, and began to stammer over some of his words. They snort. "Calm yourself down boy," He swallowed.

"S-Sorry," They shake their head.

"Jack?" He almost dropped her down the stairs in fright.

"Yeah?" he shook his head, resuming his climb.

"Where are we?"

"The next hotel,"

"Oh… what city are we in?"

"Only a fool would tell his hostage what city he's moved her to," he huffed. "And I am no fool," She grumbled.

"Dammit,"

"Don't pout about that, I've been fairly decent to you so far," She glanced up at him, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, but why?"

"You're more obedient when you're well taken care of,"

"Oh really? And what proof do you have for that?"

"You didn't tell that woman I had kidnapped you," he hummed.

"Because you were right next to me,"

"You've listened to my orders, more so when I'm not being violent,"

"I-,"

"The stairs are really steep, I don't wanna risk falling," He nodded.

"Fair," He glanced down. "But I would fall too, wouldn't I?" More testing. He had to be sure she wouldnt run off on him if he had to leave her alone in the room for something.

"Just because you kidnapped me doesn't mean I want you to fall to your doom on a hotel staircase," she crossed her arms, huffing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Why- why is there only one bed?" you tilt your head.

"There weren't any double bed rooms available when I booked it,"

"So we'll be sleeping on the same bed?"

"I don't care if you sleep on the floor, or the bed, or even the bathtub," he shrugged.

"Bed sounds comfy,"

"Then sleep on the bed, I'm too tired to care," he flopped back first onto the bed, sighing in relief.

"What if we accidentally spoon though?"

"Oh nooo, physical contact, what ever will we dooo??" Sarcasm was evident.

"You know for a guy who panicked when I saw him singing you're awfully chill about straight up cuddling me," He shrugged.

"I'm tired, and tired me just does not give a shit," he rubbed his eyes. "Besides, human bodies are cooler than demon ones, you'd be like the cold side of a pillow,"

"What the fuck," He let out a strained laugh.

"Sorry," he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna go get my stuff, you gotta promise to stay here,"

"I make no promises," you cross your arms.

"I could always lock you in the bathroom with no means of entertainment, or you can stay out here, in a decent, air conditioned room, with a tv. Your choice," You sigh.

"Fine," a quiet grumble leaves you.

"I'll bring the clothes and toiletries up first, so you can take a shower,"

"Are you saying I need one?"

"We both need one, I'm just saying yours will probably take longer," You mull it over.

"Fine," He gave a thumbs up and stood.

"I'll be back," He left the room. You sigh and crawl onto the bed fully, closing your eyes.

(Song is Alonely by Public)

(I also use this song as a voice claim for Jack)

(Here’s the link)

https://youtu.be/b-MsOr5LCHI

youtube

#Youtube

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ladyfogg · 5 years

Text

Cold is the Night - 1/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost.

A/N: I was going to wait to post this next week but ended up finishing it early. So, enjoy! Hope you guys like it!

Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Gif by @joe-mazzello

It was the hottest day of the summer and Pat Murray thought he might melt. Literally, melt.

The D-Backs weren’t even supposed to be on the field but Ty had insisted they needed the practice. No amount of whining or convincing could change his mind, not even from Maz.

Pat stood just outside the dugout in the bright sun, sweat dripping down his face, his uniform stuck to him unpleasantly.

“Come on, Murray, hurry up and hit something so we can get out of here!”

“Shut the fuck up, Palacco!” Pat snapped. He was the last to practice and had been at the plate for far too many swings. The rage and anxiety had long since taken over, made ten times worse by the heat. He had stepped away for a moment, hoping that would help. But it hadn’t.

He took a deep breath but the air was so thick it did nothing to help. He stepped back up to the plate, took a few practice swings, raised his bat…and missed again.

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Ty assured him as Pat let out a string of swears. “Try again.”

“Ty, dude, why can’t the rest of us go?” Zapata asked. “We’ll die of heat if we have to wait for Murray.”

“Fuck you, Zapata!”

“Hey! No one’s going anywhere!” Ty snapped. “We start practice together and we end it together. Now shut it!” He gestured to Dells who looked just as exhausted as Pat felt.

Dells sighed and wound up another pitch. Pat’s hands were so sweaty, the bat was sliding against his palms. He gripped it as tight as he could, readied his body for the throw…

“Vinnie, what the fuck? You said you’d be done an hour ago!”

At the sound of your voice, Pat swung wide, missing Dells pitch by a long shot. The bat flew out of his sweaty hands and soared through the air, hurtling straight toward you. “FUCK!”

You saw the bat just in time to jump out of the way. “Shit!”

“Ey, Murray, be careful! You almost hit my baby sister!” Vinnie exclaimed dramatically. He pulled you against his gross chest protectively. “You poor baby! Did the mean ginger hurt you?!”

“Vinnie, g'off!” You struggle against your older brother, punching him in the rib to get him to let go. “I’m not even that much younger than you!“

Pat was furious with himself and unloaded his rage into a colorful array of swears. “Fucking fuck shit balls, fuck! Fucking idiot!”

“Alright, we’re done,” Maz declared, getting off the bench and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“We’re not leaving yet!” Ty exclaimed.

Maz fixated him with a stern look. “Ty, we’re done,” he repeated. “It’s too hot, Murray is losing his shit, and we’re all going to get heatstroke if we don’t get inside soon.”

Ty could never argue with Maz. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he nodded. “Yeah alright. Garvey, Dells, bring it in. Everyone’s dismissed.”

An eruption of cheers interrupted Pat’s continued tirade. Still fuming, he headed for the shade of the dugout, throwing his helmet against the chain-link fence.

“Aww, don’t worry, little buddy! Someday you’ll hit the ball!” Vinnie cooed.

Pat felt bad enough as it was but to hear Vinnie tease him in front of you made the whole situation unbearable for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

You elbowed your brother. “Stop being an ass. Come on, let’s go. I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Ooo, yeah, about that…” Vinnie gave you a sweet smile. “I forgot to text you. I’m going with Ty to meet up with Nellie. Sorrrryyy!”

Pat’s own rage settled as he watched yours build. You rounded on Vinnie, eyes flaring.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I waited for no goddamn reason?!”

“Aww, don’t be upset!” Vinnie reached out to squish your cheeks, something he knew you absolutely hated. “Now give your big bro a biiiig smile!”

Without warning, you pounced on him, knocking him into the dirt. Vinnie tried to fight you off as the two of you wrestled in the dirt, a common occurrence to everyone who knew you.

Pat gathered his things while the other guys laughed He just wanted to go home and forget about his miserable performance. He slipped away before anyone could notice.

He loved baseball with every fiber of his being and yet he couldn’t hit the ball even if his fucking life depended on it. There was nothing else he’d rather do. He just wished he had half as much talent as some of the other guys.

He didn’t usually drive to the field since his house was so close. But he would have if he had bothered to check the weather before he left. A thought that had suddenly occurred to him as he reached the parking lot.

“Great. Just fucking great."

He was beyond exhausted and now had to walk home. He didn’t want to text his dad to come and get him, seeing as he was a fucking adult. Which left the one option. In theory, he could ask one of the guys but he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with them, knowing they’d tease him, or worse, try to give him advice.

Pat was just contemplating if he could make it without passing out when a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey, Pat. Need a ride?”

He turned around to find you standing behind him. Your jean shorts and tank top were caked with dirt and sand, both of which were smeared across your face and in your hair.

Pat swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart. “Nah, I’m fine. I’ll walk.”

“The hell you will! It’s hot as balls!” you said, pushing past him. “Come on, my car is right over here.”

A million protests came to mind, only a few having to do with the heat. He could only imagine the comments from the guys if they saw him and you getting into a car together. Vinnie would definitely have a few words.

But with a cloudless sky and temperatures pushing mid-90s, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. “You sure?"

"Yeah. Since my shitty brother made me come over here, I might as well give someone a lift."

Pat looked up at the sun and then back to your retreating frame. "Thanks,” he muttered, falling into step with you.

Your car was already running and when Pat climbed in, he was met with a blast of cold air. “Shit that’s nice.”

You laughed as you climbed into the driver’s seat. “Right? Okay. Where to?”

Pat gave you his address and sat back as you pulled out of the parking space. He scanned the direction of the field, praying no one had seen the two of you together. The guys were just cresting the hill, Maz in the lead. They seemed too preoccupied talking to each other to notice him in your car.

As you drove in silence, Pat realized it was the first time the two of you had ever been alone. You had known of each other for a long time, had met on several occasions, but that was the extent of your relationship. He realized he knew very little about you.

Stealing a glance, he studied your profile, eyes taking in the features he had admired from afar. Maybe not admired, but definitely noticed. You focused on the road, singing along with whatever song was on the radio. He didn’t recognize it.

“Tough practice?” you asked.

Pat scowled and remained silent, his anger at himself flaring back up and forcing him to look away.

“That bad huh?” You drummed your hands on the steering wheel as you pulled up to a red light. “I forgive you then. You know, for almost killing me with a bat.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” Pat exclaimed. He had completely forgotten about that and now he felt a thousand times worse. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“Relax, I was teasing,” you said, stepping on the gas. “It was my fault for standing outside the dugout. I’ve been around you assholes long enough to know shit goes flying.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s so goddamn hot, the bat slipped.”

“Isn’t that why you’re supposed to wear gloves?”

“I forgot them.”

“Probably don’t do that next time.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tension filled the tiny space between you two as Pat sat stewing in his own anger. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t do anything right.

“You’re brooding.”

Pat glared at you. “I’m pissed off. I’m allowed to brood.”

“Well don’t, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Don’t you start with me too. I’ve had a shitty day.”

“Well, let’s talk about it. You’ll feel better if you let it out.”

Pat looked at you in surprise. His angry outbursts were well known to anyone who had seen him play. Most of the time he was told to calm down, not keep going.

“Fucking fuck!” he exclaimed, yanking his hat off and throwing it against the dashboard. “I’m such a fucking loser! God, no matter what I do I can’t ever get a fucking hit! Most of the time I can’t even get close!”

“Hey you got close to hitting me, that’s something!”

Pat glared at you and you gave him the same shit-eating grin your brother was famous for. “It’s not the fucking same. If almost hitting people with bats counted I’d have been drafted years ago.”

You laughed. “In all honesty though, I know you can do it.”

“How? You barely know me.”

“I’ve been to plenty of games over the years, I’ve seen you play more times than I can count. You hit when you’re not psyching yourself up. You just have to stop overthinking it.”

There it was, exactly what he didn’t want to deal with. Unsolicited advice. “Thanks for telling me the same thing I’ve heard over a thousand times before. Really helps.”

“Fuck you, I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

The rest of the drive was done in silence. When you pulled into Pat’s driveway he sighed with relief. All he could do was think about taking a long shower and passing out for a few hours.

“Thanks for the ride,” he muttered, grabbing his bag.

“Yeah, sure.”

As he opened the car door and climbed out, the heat blasted him in the face, making him grimace. The stark change reminded him how lucky he was he didn’t have to walk home.

She really didn’t have to drive me and then I go snapping at her. Well fucking done, Murray.

Pat paused on his way to the front door before he turned around to go apologize. But you had already driven away. Cursing under his breath, he headed into the house.

#pat murray #pat murray x you #pat murray x reader #joe mazzello #undrafted

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askshivanulegacy · 5 years

Note

All for blakk

O M G :’D

I’m not even putting this behind a cut SCREW YOUR DASHBOARD :P

A: Aptitude1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

Hiding.

2. what activities have they participated in?

HACKING, to include some questionably legal manipulation of the Intel mainframes for the purposes of playing a competitive game.

Swoop racing (actually just a dream, he hasn’t raced anything YET, but he’s working on building a racer)

Model building, he has a complete set of working model ships and vehicles

Built his own mouse bot

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

All of his skills he’s worked very hard to develop and become proficient at. He started out at a disadvantage, not being able to concentrate in class and having difficulty remembering things. He worked very hard to overcome this.

4. what things are they bad at?

Anything involving emotions. :’D

5. what is their most impressive talent?

Knife fighting. Also dancing, he’s capable of some very impressive dance moves.

B: Basics1. what is their hair color?

Black

2. what is their eye color?

Dark blue

3. how tall are they?

5 ft, 4 in / 162.5 cm

4. how old are they?

Depends, but he starts SWTOR at 17 years old.

5. how much do they weigh?

Somewhat under an ideal healthy weight for his height and age.

C: Comfort1. how do they sit in a chair?

Properly. Although, left to himself on something comfy, he likes to pull up his legs and snuggle under a blanket.

2. in what position do they sleep?

Usually curled up on one side.

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

Before meeting certain people, it’s holed up in his room either working on his models or studying tech manuals. After meeting certain people, it’s snuggled on a sofa with something sweet and hot to drink, wearing thick sweater and socks, and either watching the fireplace or a movie (with a fire in the fireplace).

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

Some kind of hot, creamy soup. Certain people made something like this for him on cold days or to help him feel better.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

A feeeew people: Seran-vin ( @askcarminelegacy), Ziminder ( @kaosstar), Ahuska ( @dingoat), possibly a couple others. ♥

D: Decoration1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name?

Blakk’s DK stronghold is typically done in cool colors with sleek, industrial lines and clean, minimalistic styles, although he does favor green, so that’s probably here and there. Left to his own devices though (and maybe some interior decoration hints), his ideal house would probably be decorated warmly, with a more natural, welcoming style of furniture.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room?

Blakk would not have a child. XD

3. how do they decorate their own room?

Same as above, except littered with pieces of tech and various flying vehicle models.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear?

The best in Imperial fashion - clean, sharp lines, asymmetrical styling, appropriate use of contrasting colors and accents, usually a darker color spectrum (unless white or silver). No flowers.

Accessories include knives everywhere, a stealth unit, comms, Intel-tech grappling hook. Less practical accessories include possible hat, white or black gloves (or dark green if he’s wearing green), earring (just one, asymmetry FTW), or choker.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

No. Except when disguised as a woman, then of course whatever is tasteful and stylish and matching his clothes. Possibly sparkles and/or tattoos in interesting places if left up to Watcher Two. ;)

E: External Personality1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

Yes, very much.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm?

To the classic “Imperial norm,” yes.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

Tasteful trends in fashion. Other trends, generally not; Blakk is something of a lone wolf and finds it hard to group along with others.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

Not in the least.

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

Blakk unintentionally does not portray his full personality.

F: Fun1. what do they do for fun?

See A for activities. Also, reading technical manuals.

2. what is their ideal party?

Not having one.

3. who would they have the most fun with?

Proooobably a certain Alderaanian noble or a certain Bothan. Or even a certain thief.

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

Blakk certainly thinks he can. 8) Imperial rules, anyway, no one mentioned anything about Republic rules

5. do they go out a lot?

Nope.

G: Gorgeous1. what is their most attractive external feature?

His eyes.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

Probably his shy kindness or awkwardness.

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

Generally, he’s very loyal to his friends and honestly thinks the world of them.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

Blakk likes his appearance; he’s not shy at all about being seen and being fashionable. He hates the rest of himself. XD

5. what parts of others do they envy?

The ability of people to make friends or speak or hang out or have fun so easily.

H: Heat1. do they rather a hot or cold room?

Hot! The hotter the better.

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

Summer!

3. do they like the snow?

No! Except the indoor part with cozy clothes and hot drinks and cuddling.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity?

Nothing Blakk particularly identifies with the summer.

5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

Avoiding everything about the winter.

I: In-the-closet1. what is their sexuality?

A very in-the-closet Bi.

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality?

Not consciously.

3. have they ever questioned their gender?

Nope.

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT?

What family? 8)

5. how long would/did it take for them to come out?

Still waiting, in denial 5ever, even after having a couple boyfriend AUs. :’D

J: Joy1. what makes them happy?

Sharing time with the people they care about.

2. who makes them happy?

Certain special individuals. ♥

3. are there any songs that bring them joy?

Probably, especially when certain people sing them.

4. are they happy often?

No.

5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

Someone telling him, “I love you.” It’s never happened.

K: Kill1. have they ever thought about suicide?

Yes.

2. have they ever thought about homicide?

”Thought” implies something deeper than a daily occurance. XD

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who?

Blakk already does, but he has no one specific in mind.

4. who would miss them if they died?

Blakk thinks no one would.

5. who would be happy they died, anyone?

DERRICK @kaosstar

L: Lemons1. what is their favorite fruit?

He doesn’t know enough to have one. Raspberry might be a good contender.

2. what is their least favorite fruit?

Still doesn’t know enough to have one, but possibly lemons. XD

3. are there any foods they hate?

FLOWERS.

4. do they have any food intolerances?

Possibly. Blakk just needs to be careful he doesn’t overdo it with foods he’s not used to (his regular diet is exclusively nutrient bars).

5. what is their favorite food?

Nutrient bars.

M: Maternal1. would they want a daughter or a son?

No.

2. how many children do they want?

Zero.

3. would they be a good parent?

Blakk would be a terrible parent. He’s not in a position or a mindset to care for a child, he might never be in one.

4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?

Nothing.

5. would they adopt?

Nope.

N: Never Have I Ever1. what would they never do?

Blakk would never want to hurt the people he cares about ... but it’s happened anyway.

2. what have they never done that they want to do?

Race a swoop.

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?

Probably not.

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?

That one time he was swindled into going undercover at a strip club.

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

Defect from Imperial Intelligence.

O: Optimism1. are they optimistic or pessimistic?

Very pessimistic.

2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others?

No.

3. are they good at giving advice?

Terrible at giving advice, but that doesn’t stop him. :’D

4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them?

A good handful of people, haha.

5. were they always optimistic?

Blakk was ... once, in a part of his life he no longer remembers.

P: Personality1. what is their best personality trait?

Kindness.

2. what is their worst personality trait?

Negativity.

3. what of their personality do others love?

Probably the kindness and stubbornness.

4. what of their personality do others envy?

... Possibly his loyalty?

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

Blakk hates his lack of confidence and his introvertedness. There’s not much he actually hates about other people’s personalities, except cruelty.

Q: Questions1. do they ask for help?

Never, if he can help it.

2. do they ask questions in class?

Rarely.

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

Not usually, although there’s not much that would make Blakk uncomfortable in a classroom setting.

4. do they ask weird questions?

No.

5. are they curious?

Reasonably curious, moreso about things of a technical nature.

R: Rules1. do they follow rules?

Imperial rules, yes.

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent?

Neither.

3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule?

People have tried, in Republic space. 8)

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking?

Does blowing up hundreds of thousands of people across several planets count?

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

Mandalorian rules.

S: Streets - already answered!

T: Truth

1. are they honest?

Generally, but there are a lot of things Blakk lies like a rug about.

2. can they tell if someone is lying?

Usually; it’s part of his Intelligence training.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying?

No, unless it’s about his own feelings. 8)

4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about?

Oh yes. Or half-truths, or not confessing his feelings before it’s too late.

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

No, but certain people have discovered truths Blakk would rather have been left alone.

U: Underdog1. have they been bullied?

Yes, even beat up a few times at Intelligence.

2. have they bullied anyone?

No.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully?

Yes.

4. have they ever been doubted?

Blakk has never told anyone. He thinks “allowing” himself to be beat up is a severe weakness, and he’s pretty demoralized that no one noticed or stepped in.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

When it comes to fighting, probably yes. He’s extremely agile, tenacious, and downright vicious.

V: Vomit1. do they vomit often?

No? This is a very bizarre set of questions. Clearly someone had no ideas when it comes to ‘V’.

2. do they get lots of stomach aches?

Possibly, when eating too much unfamiliar food.

3. are they good at comforting someone ill?

Not very good, but Blakk will sit with them and provide company.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes?

Warmth and physical contact.

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

Not exactly a very relevant question. XD

W: Water - already answered!

X: Xylophone

1. what is their favorite genre of music?

Generally something smooth and instrumental, like Classical.

2. do they have a favorite song?

Probably a few, or anything sung by a certain Alderaanian.

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

Just one favorite singer. So far.

4. can they sing well?

Blakk can actually sing reasonably well, he’s a tenor.

5. can they rap?

If his life depended on it? Probably. :’D

Y: You1. how old were you when you created them?

Uhhh I do a terrible job of tracking what I did when. Just about the time I started SWTOR, I created Blakk.

2. what inspired you to create them?

Blakk is the what-if Imperial universe version of my Jedi Knight Zakku’an. The “what-if” brainstorming determined how his personality changed, and his appearance is the result of what I liked when changing Zak’s appearance with the character creator. XD

3. were they different when they were first created?

As Zak, he was very different. More optimistic, friendly, and light-hearted.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters?

Yes!

5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

Everything, especially how he has a chronic, “dig himself into deeper and deeper holes” problem. XD

Z: Zebra1. what’s their favorite animal?

He hates animals. Wolves.

2. do they like animals?

Not generally. Although one day he will end up with a varactyl named Featherhead, an akk dog he will be Force-bonded to, and a pack of miniature blurrgs named after his friends. 8)

3. cats or dogs?

Neither? Both?

4. what’s their dream pet?

Since he’s never wanted a pet, he doesn’t have one.

5. do they have any pets at the moment?

Not at this very moment, but see #2.

@kaosstar I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY XDDD

#kaosstar #I'm not even 100% sure this was the right set of asks #but I am 85% sure so that's ok 8)#ty for the ask!!!#I think ahahahaha #Omega Blakk #asks #answers #no regrets #stretching your dash for days

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