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lolitastories · 4 months ago

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GHOST

Javier Pena x Reader

Chapter 3

“Hey Lola” I smile and wave at Miguel as I make my way to the bar. “Same as usual?” He was already preparing my drink before I could answer.

“Thank you” I let out a sigh sitting on the corner of the bar. I look over and see Diego coming out. “Hey”

“What's going on?” He asks with a smile coming up and starting to dry the glasses. “Haven’t seen you in awhile” Miguel comes up and lays the drinks infront of me.

“Yeah, I've been busy with work. Its hits always at the same time” Miguel didn’t know to make my drink virgin but thankfully I needed this drink.

“Taxes season right” Miguel laughs before leaving to attend the other guests.

“Anything new?” I shake my head.

“Since he showed up on my doorstep I got a sweet invitation for dinner” I downed the drink. I’ve never been an alcoholic person, never got the point. They said it relaxed you and some other shit and maybe it does but never wanted to test out the waters. “More people have been around so I actually had to start working” I get a laughfrom him. Atleast someone is getting the humor out of all of this.

“That was quick?” Miguel comes over and takes the drink and goes to prepare another one. Diego just shakes his head.

“His movement has been still for a while and aslong as it stays there it means he doesn’t feel pressured. '' I smile as Miguel set another drink infront of me.

“I was wondering something” I lifted my eyebrow waiting for his next words. “Would you like to go out sometime? Maybe here for some drinks?” Stuck in the corner with that one. Miguel was a nice guy, hell with it.

“I would like that but I will let you know when. I’ve been swamped at work so I don’t know when I will get a chance to relax again”

“You know where to find me” He smiles walking away again.

“Look at you,” Diego says with a smile. “This will be your first date, since when?” I roll my eyes, taking my attention back to my drink. “Since never?”

“Shut up”

“Honey-”

“Don’t call me that” He knows when I am serious but he also knows just because it upsets me doesn’t mean I won’t get over it.

“Sorry” he lifts his hands up in defense. “I have knowed you since middle school and after that guy, you haven’t given nother guy the time of day” He moved closer making sure nobody heard. “And I know you are only doing this as a cover but it's time you put yourself out there again”

“I will” I shrug finishing me drink

“I can’t remember how many times you got the chance and never took it.” As he places his hands over mine I feel a smooth surface. I turn it to act like I am holding his hand and slip to grab the piece of paper in it.

“I will” I smile getting up.

“No late drinks tonight?” It was 9 and I usually stayed sometime after midnight.

“Not tonight Miguel. Got so much work to finish and I have until the end of this month” I thank them and leave. I carefully move into a spot where it's not suspicious to people who may be watching. I checked the note and intently grew tired. Close the blinds. Hell. As I walk home, well the motel. I drag my feet. This is the fifth night Pena has done this in the span of 3 weeks. He would sneak into the motel and have me close the blinds. Later after we spoke he would sneak out when the men across the street would turn off the lights. This usually happened when my lights were off for a while so it would send Pena out around 1 to 4 in the morning. I got the door acting all normal. I would set my things down and walk into the bathroom doing my usual routine. “I thought I told you to stop coming” I groaned, walking out the bathroom and placing my clothes on a table in the bathroom.

“And I told you I wasn’t until you decided to let us in” I rolled my eyes walking back out frustrated. This is how the night went. I got home and he would be sitting on the toilet. I would take a shower as we start our discussion. After that I would come out and close the blinds. Go into the bathroom and change as Pena moves to the kitchen table. Finally I would ignore him and give him bits and pieces as I try to catch some sleep until morning. He would be out by the time I opened my eyes. Today I was over it. I ignored him as I took a shower and even as I got ready for bed. “You’ve been working overtime and spending time on road trips, what does he have you doing?” I shrug, removing the pillows from the bed and getting into the covers. “Y/N!”

“Shut up” I groaned. It was close to eleven now and all I wanted to do was sleep. I wasn’t tired enough not to stay up. I was tired of the life that I have to live right now. I can’t leave and it's looking like it doesn’t have an end. “Pena” I sigh sitting up. “I don’t have time for your threats or whatever speech you prepared” I say a little too loud.

“You would have to hear it if you would just tell me what's going on” He gets up from the table and walks over. I get up and turn off the lights. I place on my shoes and walk towards the back. “Y/N” he warned. He knew to stay hidden behind the wall as I walked out into the sort of porch outside. I wrap my arms around me as the cool air hits my face.

“I stand out here sometimes. I like to look at the sky and picture myself somewhere else. Usually surrounded by water. Floating and letting the motion of the waves rock me to sleep” I turn my head catching Pena's eyes. “Ironic because I am scared of the open water. I am going to say this as nicely as possible” I turn my body to walk towards the door outline without stepping in, I needed to still feel at peace to not let the frustration out on him. “No matter how much this involves you, you can’t be putting me,you,Murphy, and any other agent on the line. I am not a little girl, all the information I give goes directly to you and the ambassador” Thats when Pena stands up and stops right infront of me. “I can’t have you coming here and risking this operation because of your stubbornness and pride” I say this a little harsher as his presance radiates. It's like I could feel him so much closer than he was. Like he has engulfed me in a tight hug and somehow, that made me feel at peace. “It's not the right thing to do and if I am being honest I feel like everything is slipping off my hands” I hate not having control. Something I should have since it's my damn operation but with him involved it like I can’t get a hold of it.

“Y/N '' I felt his fingers grab my own until he enterwines our hands. “You are stressed”

“No! Pena” I finally let out. “I am scared” That was the last straw. I don’t know what caused it. I don’t know if he hugged me first and tears started falling or he heard my whimper as I cried and wrapped his arms around me. Silence surrounded us both not knowing what to say. The truth came out and I felt vulnerable. I hadn’t felt this way. Losing control wasn’t part of my traits. I was close to losing control and it was making me think of unnecessary feelings I learned to put in the past. “I know what I got myself into. I learned to not take it personally. A great deal of my life I have always been good at keeping my emotions in. To ignore. But-” I look up not knowing what to end with. There is nothing to think about. There is no other choice here, I must finish my operation. I must get back in control. “I'm sorry” I whisper, moving my hands to cup his cheeks. I pulled him closer pinning us against eachother. The kiss was breathtaking. I felt down and sad and having him kiss me felt like a solution. He didn’t seem to mind. It felt like he was desprate to take all the sadness I had in this one kiss. I push him inside, not letting us reach for air just yet. We stumble upon the kitchen table. “Careful” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around him as he slips around my waist. It was a simple long kiss but it was turning into something I craved for.

“Querida” He groaned as we molded together. His back knees hit the bit and it makes him sit down. I dare not let go yet and crawl on to him pushing him even closer for the kiss to never end. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to go back to reality. I only wanted to listen to his moans and groans as I start to slowly grind agains this jean pants. I only wanted to feel his heart beat beating with mine. His smooth finger continued to travel along my back and unclapsing my bra.

“Javi?” It sounded like a question to me but I was begging and he understood that. He took out my shirt and started to leave butterfly kisses starting from my mouth to my collarbone.

“Sounds so sweet when you say my name” I smile. My head falls on his shoulder moving up to kiss beside his ear.

“Javi!” I groaned louder, knowing he was ignoring my plea. Then there was. Not what I needed but it was a start. One head on my breath and his talented mouth on the other. Kissing first and the next licking and sucking like no tomorrow. I throw my head back pushing my chest closer. “Javi!” I screamed. “Fuck” I grab on his head pulling and tugging his hair. I forcefully continue to grind on him wanting nothing more than to get rid of the barrier of clothing between us.

“Mi amor” It was the heat of the moment I told myself. But it made a shiver run down my spin to my core. “Stop, you’re killing me” He groans and I start leaving kisses and hickies on his neck.

“Don’t you want to hear me scream your name some more?” I move up again, nipping on his ear and slowing down my hips but with more force.

“Yes” he whines. His hands grab on to my hips following my rhythm.

“But, we can stop if-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence when he wraps one arm around my waist and the other helps him not fall on top of me as he turns us around and lays me down on the bed. “No?” I try to hold my laugh but it's cut short. His eyes hold seriousness. Still hovering over me he moves on hand to cradle my cheek.

“No” His deep voice sends another shiver down my spine. His thumb slides over my lips and I give him entrance. A simple suck and his eyes shut. “Mi vida” He groans. With his affirmations alone and sweet nicknames I could orgasm faster than if I was doing it myself.

“Wait!” I pushed into the bed, not in the way I wanted. I hold my finger up signaling him to keep quiet. I run to close the back door and the curtains. A quick chatter from outside and shadows that the moon allows to cast make me jump. I see Pena stand up and walk quickly towards me.

“Do you think-” I shushed him quickly. I grab on to his hand and push him into the bathroom. I open the cabinet and take everything from underneath.

“I need you to keep quiet and don’t come out until I let you out” I open a secret compartment. It was a small space fit for one person. “Pena” I turned around and stood up. “If you hear no commotion you let yourself out” I move out the way to let him. That's when a knock is heard on the other side.

“No way in hell-” I grab a fist full of his shirt.

“Don’t give me that shit right now!” Another knock. “You will do what I say. This is my operation and I won’t have you mess it up. I will send for you when I decide. And only then will you show up, understand? I can take care of myself” I ran back to the room and put my shirt on again. “Get in Pena” I hurry him inside and close it. I get the time to put everything in place before rushing back to open the door. “Hello?” I act like they just disturbed my sleep.

“We are sorry to come at this time Miss, but the boss would like a word with you.” Fuck.

“Okay. Give me a minute to change and I will be right out. They nod and I close the door. I can’t tell Peña because he would be right after us. I changed quickly going back to the bathroom and putting my head inside the cabinet knowing he would be able to hear me. “Please don’t do anything stupid and listen for once. I will keep you in the loop but I need you to promise me you will follow what I said before”

“Okay, but Y/N-“ I cut him off quickly

“I don’t have time Pena, I have to go over things with them so it will be awhile. In an hour you walk out the back door” I didn’t wait for his response as I walked to the door and into the car with these men.

Chapter 4

#javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena narcos #javier peña #narcos #javier pena x y/n #steve murphy #pedro pascal

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unoriginalmess · 3 years ago

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A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

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To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

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And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

#a second mask #feralnette #feralnette au #felinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #here it finally is #idk why some of the tags arent working

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years ago

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The Eyes Are Lined

Summary: whilst on the last days of set of filming the show where he plays Tommy Lee, Sebastian is greeted with a surprise guest in his trailer, and he is certainly not going to be one to complain whence he’s gets a treat as sweet as you

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (male + female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, teasing, fingering, pet names

Word Count: 4133

Masterlist Link

It fell from his lips as a relieved sigh, it had felt like forever since he had last seen you, and as he took in your form coiled in a baggy sweatshirt of his and hopefully nothing more, he was fast to close and lock the door behind himself. His tongue darted out to swipe the upon the underbite of his lip as he stepped slowly forwards in his adjourned flip flops, the wide shorts hanging off his legs. For this role he had very much diversified his appearance; lost weight, changed his hair, worn temporary tattoos - yet from the prowess that resonated through your eyes, nothing in the way of your attraction had changed.

“Sebba.” You greeted him with a wide smile, dismissing your phone that had been in your hand to the side of the couch, and crawling off the seat that you had taken up residence in. Instantly, your arms wrapped around his sleek torso, taking in the aroma of his deodorant that obliterated the senses through your nostrils. He pulled your face up with the grip of his heavy palm against your courteous cheek, as his breath fanned against the platter of your forehead.

“You’re here early, shooting doesn’t finish for another three days.” He stated, the grin that was tugging at his features clearly showing that he was anything but disappointed by your unspoken arrival. Tucking your arms to land around his waist like a belt that was enclosing him against you, you happily sighed, stroking your nose against the expanse of his bare chest that was beholden before you through the open curtains of his plain black hoodie. For a moment your eyes flickered down to the fake piercings that were strung like light fixtures from his nipples, watching as the silver metal beamed in contrast to the bulb that was fixed into the ceiling.

“I wanted to surprise you, it feels like forever since we were that close.” Was your confessing admission, as you pressed a warm kiss upon his revealed flesh, causing him to hum in acknowledgement of the amorous act. “Though I’m happy that god awful shadow is gone from your chin, if you want hair there then I suggest that you grow your beard back out.” You stroked your thumb over the crescent of his chin, running the pad through the indent as he inwardly cocked his brow, stiffening his jaw at your straight opinion.

“What’d you think of everything else? Be honest now darling.” He clicked his tongue, staring down at you with his smokily framed eyes, as you coiled back into your shoulders so that you could get a better overall viewpoint of him, as your hands descended to cupping the inward joints of his elbows. You balanced your weight on both of your feet, juggling between them to remain sturdy as you felt the mood in the trailer punctually shift, as though you were crossing through the mysterious channel that inhabited the Bermuda Triangle.

“Hmmm, well I’m rocking for the eyeliner, it really makes your eyes stand out more than they already do. And you know I’ve always been an absolute sucker for the longer hair, but I’m a sucker for you in general.” At that suggestive statement, you casted a sultry wink at him, hoping that he caught onto the act rather than thinking you had something entrapped in the perimeter of your eye. It was not dust that had clogged upon your pupil, instead it were lust, gripping onto the very image of him. It had been months, long ones at that since the pair of you had seen each other.

All the intimacy that your relationship confined in its long distance was dealt with over the phone, never once did the space that his work divulged the two of you apart make you feel lonely, he tried his utmost to ensure that you were comfortable even with miles for what seemed like an eternity separating you. The cellular contact that immersed your spare time furloughed for both late night calls that brought an innocent lovesick smile to resort upon the spectating image of your face that was reflected through the front camera of your phone, and sexual conducts that travelled across the countries that you were both in to bring you closer and alternatively higher together, in a blissful reunion that swamped your head with hyperactive hormones that followed after your mutual orgasms.

“Naughty.” He condoned you for your filthy innuendo, his hand cascading down the artwork of your body, and moving behind you, so that his fingertips were dancing upon the crown of your exempt ass cheek. “Guess all that time away has gotten you desperate for me, huh? Do you want to some sucking up to me? I’ve had a pretty hard day, and it would help me relieve a bunch of the stress that depends on these last few days. Not to mention I am so pent up from not seeing you all this time, it was practically torture honey bee, I’m not even sure how I survived.”

Dragging his head down to meet with your own, you pressed luscious and. Extended pecks onto his thin lips,having missed them covering every inch o your skin with the love that swelled in his chest and other places for you. “I don’t even know if you’ll last that long Bas, its been a certain while of you solely using your hand.” A giggle reaped from your throat as your hearing absorbed the gasp that slithered out of his mouth; he playfully pushed down upon the line of your shoulders, only enhancing your amusement by doing so. “So pushy.”

“That is right, and I will only get rougher with you the longer that it takes you to get down on your knees for me, so I would think logically. After all, after I completely wrap on this show, I’m going to have all the spare one in the world to put you in your little place and stop you from being a disobedient little brat.” It was a promise, he was threatening you in the most sexual way possible, and you’d be lying if you were to say that some aroused nectar hadn’t gathered in the passage that divided your highs down the middle. You gulped, intimacy written in every speck of your irises as you lowered yourself to be poised on your thighs, your face near the tent forming at his crotch.

The material of his shorts gathered with creases as his cock grew beneath the baggy subject that defined his legs that much more. A hand ravelled through your locks as you found yourself darting your tongue out to caress his legs, moving your muscle upwards as your hands teased the waistband of the barrier that prevented you from seeing all of him. “How much have you missed me baby, let daddy know.” Lightly, he begs to roll his hips forwards, pressing his erection teasingly against your face, and you were loving every second of it. His balls were pressing against your chin on every mimic forwards, and as you tried to speak, your voice was a tiny bit muffled by them.

“So much Sebby, I hated being apart from you.” You thought that would be a good enough answer, but as his fingers threaded further through your hair, a quiet yelp ejected from your throat as he strayed you head to be leant upwards so that you were gazing into his domineering eyes. That was when you realised that you must have made a mistake, but no matter what it was, it was much too late to take it back. Sexual fear paved through your gaze as you poured, wanting nothing to get back to your journey of duty which was to suck his cock, however, you could not continue if Sebastian had other things, such as whatever you had done so wrongly plaguing his mind.

“Bitch no cause why did you pronounce my name wrong? It begins with your favourite letter; a D, remember? And now I’m not even sure that you deserve my D. Right now I am not your Sebastian, what am I little girl?” He growled down at you, his toes rigidly curling in the open toed shoes that he were sporting, his hand remaining tangled in your hair.

“Daddy.” You tried not to sob out of dismissal, and instead expedited for apologising to refrain from angering him any further. “I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, please, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Unless it was not in this scenario of course, the pebbles of your tears brought a vivid richness and innocence upon your face, as though you were pooling diamonds out of the windows of your explicit soul. And I’m return, you were met with the gift of Seb shoving his shorts to be draped over his feet, his cock playing the curve of a sail as it stiffened more so at the air that hit it.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that sweatshirt baby?” He enquired as his right hand held his length in hand, enclosing his fist around the warm flesh that was beading with visible emotion at the tip. It was as though a pearl was balancing on the sector of his slit, teasing you as you dryly licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to ingest that into your body. To answer his question, your hands toyed with the bottom of his clothing article, pulling it up so that he could see your bare abdomen, of which was dressed in nothing more than your flawless skin.

“No daddy, I’m not. Am I in more trouble for that?” You worried that you were, all that you had wanted to do was surprise him, and you felt yourself grow a little giddy as he slowly shook his head, and pull back the coat of his foreskin to flash off as much of his cock as possible. He was teasing you to the slyest of his abilities, he wanted to subject you into doing something against your better judgement, and you remained strong, no matter how much you wanted to coil your lips around the head of his member and take him as far as the hollow of your throat would naturally allow.

“No baby, imma let you off the hook for that because I haven’t seen you in so long and I know that pretty little cunt has missed me probably more than the rest of you, but don’t test me again angel, or on the plane home you’re gonna have to sit on a bag of ice.” A part of you wanted to smirk, to coyly piss him off to see if that perseverance were to be true, however if you knew Sebastian, and you knew him more than well, you wouldn’t put anything past him nor his motives. “Go on, I can see you practically drooling to take me in your mouth. Don’t tease or I’ll fuck your face; be a good girl would ya.”

You weren’t going to waste anymore time, for all that you aware, any one of the set assistants could take him away from you, and that possibility only fuelled your instincts further as you hovered your head away from his hand, that was now patting and gently playing with your locks instead of using them as a leash, and flickered your tongue out to swipe that sample of precum and swallow it without hesitation. Before your mind could comprehend it, your body had already taken the next steps forwards and started to swallow down his member, your lashes fluttering closed as you hummed, sending a rhythm through Sebastian’s body of which made him cuss.

He was looking through half lidded eyes, almost shutting them, though stopping from doing so when he noticed your hand creep down the smooth skin of your thigh, and pry at your own folds. He was going to reprimand you for being so confident that you weren’t going to get caught doing something that was so ludicrous, but he decided that he were to allow you to continue for a moment. If he made a scene after revelling in his own pleasure, then you would be more compliant with whichever punishment that he nailed you down with. The tips of your digits quivered around your lips, before sinking within your walls and the rest of your palm cupped your pussy.

It made more sense now you were moaning against him, for not only the taste of him that hung heavily on your tongue, but from the slip of power that you thought you had over him, even if it be cloaked in secrecy. As he thought more of that, he found himself starting to fume with an underlining of rage, his fists stiffened at his sides as he exhaled through a combination of the sensations rippling beneath his skin. It was a combination of brewing disappointment and foreseen arousal; his veins burned with both, turning his blood warm and drumming his brain with one thing - it were his birthright to make you submit before him.

And though you were positioned in front of him, cast to your knees as you worked on his hard cock with your heavenly mouth, your mind had slithered away from the laws that you were supposed to obey as you fingered yourself against and without his jurisdiction. To retain from speaking out just yet Seb put the pressure of his front teeth down upon his bottom lip, as he tuned his ears on the sounds of your mouth i taking his cock and slathering it with the natural lubricant of your saliva, and if he paid enough attention, the sound of your nimble fingers darting in and out of your entrance was echoed through the slick that was provided from your hormonal body, that coated your fingers and glistened underneath the lighting.

As he felt a spark approaching through the intermissions of his pleasured body, he found it to be best to direct you away, and exhibit distance despite having forgone with that flow for the time space that you hadn’t seen each other in. And thus he gently stepped back, allowing his cock to fall past your lips and a string of spit to be the only thing connecting you to it. It was an instinct for you to whine as you watched him take his cock back into his hand, giving himself a couple of easing tugs to cool himself down from his ruined orgasm.

And that was when all prevailed in realisation for you, that he continued to ogle at you from above as your index and middle fingers on your right hand remained inside of your cunt, and as your mind sparked some sense back into it, you instantly removed them despite the emptiness that attained within that area. Your eyes remained wide as you watched with caution as Seb took it upon himself to take a seat on the sofa that was below the blind strung window of his trailer, his hand temptingly patting his thick thighs as a means to convince you to move closer.

“Get up here you deviant minx.” It was not a sweet gesture that he were offering you, no, instead you were getting punished despite evading such a fate earlier on. Pushing yourself up from your knees, you went to lay yourself against him homely lap, however as you went to do so, he tugged at the sweatshirt that compiled a flush of heat against your addictive body, pulling it up a few inches to send you the message. Once you had completely removed the appeared and were dressed to the eye in nothing more than your naked flesh, that was when Sebastian allowed you to continue laying your stomach across his legs, as your own legs and breasts were draped either side of them.

His rough fingertips caressed the muscles of your back, making them twitch from rugged anticipation. They descended lower as he dug his knee into your ribs, enjoying the way that your breath hitched. “You know the rules angel, you don’t touch without permission, and yet you did. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I bruise this beautiful ass red and blue?” The worst thing was you could imagine how your cheeks would look all bruised up from the harsh strokes from his commanding hands; it had happened before and each and every time you’d tell yourself that it’d never happen again, that you’d avoid such intimate brutality because you’d behave.

But you both knew better than to trust those empty promises that wailed from your desperate throat as you were subjected to a pain that made your mind hazy and your throat parched. “No daddy, just that I’m sorry.” A yelp quickly followed after as he collided his hand down upon the fat of your behind, your entire body jolting as you shakily inhaled, knowing that in a few minutes that you’d get used to the pain and find it less surprising. The first strike was always the worst, and as another clapped down, followed by more and more, tears reigned the paving of your face as they spilt down your cheeks.

Your apology was simply a waver in the air, it did nothing other than tell him something that he’d heard a million times by this point. And when nothing added to the soreness of your bosom, you swore that you were in heaven, it continued to sting though as relief washed over your aura, and your lashes flickered through the fallen tears, slowly drying from the sobbing that they had commenced. “You took that well, okay.” Seb breathed, beginning to softly stroke your ass which made you whimper from the feather light pressure that digressed against the impact he had prohibited you to dwindle in. “I’m gonna reward you, think you can turn over baby?”

He slipped out from beneath you, allowing you to remain on your stomach for the moment until you had finally came up with your decision. You wriggled a little, stretching your toes as you hummed in reply and switched, despite the searing conundrum that resorted favour over your backside, onto the polar of your position, only to find your lover of whom was in control crawling towards you, the rings around his eyes looking sinful as he stared at your naked body as though you were his prey. His hands began to reel up your legs, coercing you into squirming against the cushioning that was managing to keep you at the same physical level as him, though the same couldn’t be said for the mental premise that rendered in interference of your relationship.

Hot air brushed upon your mound as he pressed a kiss to the hill that lead to the lake that was fawning at his close proximity, waves crashing and glistening to appeal to his ocean eyes. “Daddy, can you please do something?” A grunt differed from his throat as he inhaled the sea salt that subordinated his nose to the all natural scent, all before he nipped at the inside of your thigh before delving his face between the tightened proximity, sealing his mouth around your sensitive bud as he mumbled moans against your reactive flesh, earning himself a deeper invasion as you rutted your hips up to his face.

Sebastian Stan was a man of many talents; he could clearly mimic anyone that a script needed him to, but the one thing that he was truly magical at was using his mouth. It was a skill set that made you mercilessly comply to him, it was his superpower, which was indeed ironic considering that he played a hero in one of the world’s biggest franchises known to cinema. He raised his hands to grasp at your own as he trailed them into his strongly pigmented hair, giving you permission to ravel your hands through his straight hair, and feel the smooth sheen against the judge of your skin. You liked it, as you knew that you would.

Using his tongue, he pried at your entrance, sinking it within you as he began to shake his unruly head, extracting small screams from your throat as you became victim to his plentiful evidence of love. Your chest raised out in the air as your eyes rolled back, and a tweak pulled at your clit once more, and looking down, it revealed that it were your beloved tugging at the button with his teeth, as he gouged your reaction. When you reached your orgasm, he dived head first back into your emptying cavern, cleansing all that he had subdued from your body via his amazingly versed and performed sentiment.

“Taste so fucking good baby.” To prove his point, he clambered above you, slipping his lips against your own as he swabbed your tongue with his own, sharing your own juices so that you could feel them balance on your taste buds. His hand ran down your body as he pinched your hardened nipples, earning himself a withered and high pitched sigh from your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss. “Think you for another one in you angel? Daddy wants to fuck this sweet pussy, you okay with that?” A dazed nod gave him permission, though he grasped your jaw with his strong hand as he ensured that you stared back at him. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, want your cock in me daddy. Always do.” A content smile used your mouth as it’s efficient puppet as he held onto his cock, and teased it around your folds, wetting his foreskin and other areas to make it more pleasurable for the both of you when he went to push in. And when he did, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven, it made you wonder how you ever survived going months without his touch, in any which way. Your hands held onto his hips as you steadied his weight, silently giving him the okay to start moving, and he did, he sunk within your cavernous walls, only to pull back and repeat the action. “Seb.” You breathed the shortened version of his name, the hot air leaving your mouth hitting his shoulder as he panted beside your face, his nose dragging up your cheek as you ran your hand down, cupping his balls and stroking them with the tender contact of your thumb.

For once under these circumstances, he did not shun you for saying his true name, instead he was too busy with the maddening rush that flew through his body as he fornicated with you. His pace increased, provoking the sound of flesh slapping upon flesh in the air as your thighs and hips clashed, amongst other parts. “Fuck sugar, ya close?” He asked you hurriedly, his forehead scrunching up as he felt immense pleasure as your cunt clenched around him, using his leverage to play with your clit once more. You ravenously nodded your head, dragging your nails over his body as you tried to jut your body up against his, chasing the approaching high which ultimately had you slumping against the cushions as he continued to pummel your body with his delivering thrusts.

“Shit.” He almost shouted, a soothing buzz ongoing in his body as he released his seed within you, you being able to feel every drop even after he pulled out and rolled to lay beside you, tugging you to be laying on his chest, neither of you caring for the cum that was escaping from your entrance that also happened to be the exit. “Why you laughing at me angel face?” Sebastian queried as he heard your cheeky sounds of amusement, a grin ruining the formation of his rocker disguise.

“You’re eyeliner’s all smudged.” You laughed, running the pad of your thumb beneath his eye and in the crows feet that dipped below, blending it further into his skin and giving it a grey hue to its ebony gradient. “You still look hot though.” You shrugged, nestling your head deeper into his chest, finally relieved that you and Sebastian were in the same place at the same time again.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years ago

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He's a 10, but... - Part 3

So, my dearest @sorisooyaa and @eunoiaastralwings...here is the third part of this...

Hello Tumblr, I am not dead, I am just swamped in my events...stressing badly!

-> Part 1 -> Part 2

Words: 1,9 k

Warnings: Rude language, partial nudity, innuendo

Characters: Maglor X South Asian OC, Maedhros...and others

It was the middle of the night, Ashira thought as she whipped around immediately, who could this be?

Despite her persistent annoyance when it came to her boss, she didn’t want him to come to any harm and so she made for the door resolutely while the brothers scrambled after her.

“Ashira,” Maglor called softly, “don’t open the door. It’s probably my brothers and…”

“It could be someone else,” she hissed and grabbed the handle to do what she had been explicitly told not to.

“Sor…” The man staring at her – wide-eyed in overwhelmed surprise – gasped under his breath. “A girl?”

His dark skin shimmered like velvet and his startingly blue eyes were piercing as he stared at her with benevolent interest; he looked comfortable and confident – as if he had every reason to be here – which made her feel a sting of envy as she was perpetually under the impression of being in the way everywhere she went.

“I am a girl, yes, and you are?” Ashira asked sharply, blocking the doorframe as well as she could with her slender body, ready to shield two grown men – stronger and more resilient than her by far – with her own life if necessary.

“Fingon,” he replied softly, “I am Fingon and…I am here to surprise my…I am here to celebrate Maglor’s success with him.”

“Finno?” Maedhros yelled – much too loudly and enthusiastically for the late hour – as he towered over Ashira; this showed her how naïve it had been to surmise that she could protect or defend someone who could simply peer over her head as if she was but a low wall.

“Hush, you,” she chided instinctively and witnessed a look of wordless, amused surprise wash over the beautifully smooth face of the man still facing her when Maedhros fell silent after a rather sheepish, mumbled apology.

“You’ve got a good handle on them, I see,” Fingon commented and shook her hand gently, “so, I am very sorry for interrupting…whatever was going on here. I arrived just ahead of…”

Before he could finish his sentence, heavy footsteps resounded in the corridor and Ashira’s head snapped forward – all but colliding with the newcomer’s chest – to scan the deserted hallway for other potential threats.

“Oh, Ashira,” Maglor mumbled miserably, “I am so sorry. You weren’t meant to witness this.”

“’This’ being…?” she inquired without turning around to face him as two other men were stomping towards them confidently. “You must be kidding me! Are all of you blinking gorgeous?” Her voice was full of annoyed disbelief as she stared at the newest batch of siblings.

“No, just me,” Maedhros laughed, curled one arm around her waist and simply lifted her out of the way before crashing into Fingon in a hug too tight and too passionate to be merely platonic.

“Nelyo!” three voices exclaimed unisono, various degrees of shock and dismay colouring them.

“Ashira,” Maglor sighed, taking her hand and holding it gingerly, “you’ve met the red menace already – again, I am so sorry – allow me to introduce you now to cousin Finno,” he pointed at the man nearly swallowed in strong, white limbs, “and my esteemed brothers ‘Know-it-all’ and ‘Grumpy-Fuck’.”

“Ah, well met, brother,” one of the two figures, strolling towards them as if they were on a beach promenade, enunciated cheerily, his freckled face stretching into an insolent grin.

“What do you mean ‘well met’, you fool? You purposefully came here to get on my nerves!” Maglor screeched; he was silenced almost immediately by a gentle tug on his hand and a punitive stare from Ashira.

“Aw come on,” he bleated, “they are not fans; they’re my brothers. Those idiots have not paid for a single one of my records!”

“That would be very dumb as we get them for free.”

Maglor pointed an accusing finger at the man – dark-haired and rosy-cheeked - who had spoken up, his words soft and yet as cutting as a blade. “Caranthir – Moryo if you want, Moron once you know him – my dear parents’ fourth abomination,” he introduced his younger brother petulantly.

“Which makes the other one Curufin, the jewel smith, right?” Ashira asked, her big, dark eyes trained intently on the earnest ripples of impatience, embarrassment, and deep love on her employer’s face.

“That is correct,” the man himself replied, extricating her hand from Maglor’s and breathing a gentle kiss on it, “I am the one who actually has manners. Oh, those are beautiful bracelets! Where did you get them from? Who made them?”

Within a second or two, he had engaged Ashira in a discussion about her heirlooms, purposefully eclipsing his brothers in the process.

“Curvo, if you value your hands,” Maglor hissed from right behind Ashira’s shoulder, “I suggest you keep them to yourself. Let me guess? You’ve demanded rooms and put them on my tab? I’ll have you know that this lady is my manager, and she won’t tolerate any of your shenanigans.”

Ashira’s head swivelled around in shock; she was his assistant, not his manager, and it was neither within her power nor any of her business whether Maglor’s brothers made him pay for their rooms.

“Hey,” Curufin exclaimed in mock-outrage, “I agreed to bunk with Moryo so as to not overtax your wallet. I’m sure – being a pop star and whatnot – it won’t hurt you to indulge your baby brothers. I mean, are you not happy at all to see us?”

Within an instant, the sophisticated grace melted out of his face; he now looked soft and almost painfully young, his round, wet eyes shimmering in the dimmed overhead light and his pale lips contorted into a pleading moue.

“Don’t look at them,” Maglor whispered as his hand curled around Ashira’s wrist to pull her into his chest – still bare and smelling faintly of the flowery hotel soap – before slotting his arm around her protectively, “they have used this one against us more than once. Don’t fall for their tricks.”

“I’m sure we could…” Ashira said, stilling as her lips brushed against his warm skin, and sighed. This was too close for comfort and her head was spinning as every breath she took filled her lungs and her swimming mind with the essence of his overly dramatic but ultimately kind essence.

“Ah,” Maedhros – finally disentangled from the other surprise visitor – jeered, “I see you’ve found a new victim for your cheap puppy eyes trick.”

“You will not put your job on the line for them,” Maglor decided harshly, “they are both more than affluent and can pay for their own room; do not fall for their sad gazes, it’s all pretence!”

And – as if his verbal dress-down was not enough – he clipped both of his brothers on the ear for their insolence, much to their yowling dismay.

By now, they had undoubtedly awoken half of the other patrons having the misfortune of being allotted rooms on the same floor as these hooligans.

“Time to go to bed,” Ashira declared and – to her surprise – got obedient nods from all of them.

“Ashira?” Maedhros asked softly, prying her away from his brother gently, “you’ll come with us though, won’t you? I wish I could claim confidently that Tyelko and the twins are less chaotic than these two, but that would be a bare-faced lie. We’re…okay though. Once you know us.”

In his eyes, she could see that it mattered a great deal to him still that she’d come to see Maglor in a different light – as if seeing him bare-chested singing in the middle of the night had not already upended all her thoughts on the subject – and so she nodded demurely as well.

“Oh, Káno, are you telling us that you’ve found a woman who likes you?” Caranthir mocked mercilessly.

“Of course not,” Maglor laughed wryly, “she works for me. You are the first to state that I cannot get anyone to bear me if they’re not related to me or get paid for it; sometimes – as well you know – I have to do both.”

“Na,” Curufin interjected, “Nelyo likes you just fine and I guess Finno doesn’t mind you all too much either, do you, cuz?”

“You’re a pest,” Fingon hissed, “you’d do your father proud. Now, let the lady retreat before she hands in her notice.”

“You wouldn’t,” Maglor cried out, pulling Ashira back against him and staring down into her eyes imploringly, “you wouldn’t abandon me because of those creatures that share my blood and my name, would you?”

Bopping his nose playfully, she laughed: “Oh, I think they are delightful! See you tomorrow, boss. Please be in your room when I come to pick you up!”

“Will do, aye, aye,” he promised with a mock salute, and pressed a quick kiss onto the crown of her head, “I am sorry for the chaos and the impromptu concert. I will behave better tomorrow, this I solemnly swear.”

This surprisingly earnest oath made his family fall into awed silence, discomfort creeping up Ashira’s spine, and she turned on her heels to leave.

In the privacy of her own room, she finally allowed herself to crash onto her bed, hugging one of the many fluffy pillows to her chest.

She had never even imagined how handsome her employer would be beneath the forced gayety and the neon garments; she had also never had the slightest idea about how quick and sparkling his humour was or about the depth of his love for his – this much she had to admit – truly naughty brothers.

Sure, he was still petulant and easy to rile up, but seeing him disparaged – even in jest – without him flying into a temper tantrum showed her that he was more than the spoiled pop princess she had gotten to know in her professional capacity.

And that body was really worth both her eyes and all her attention. And the way he smelled. And how he had held her in his arms as if she was the most precious person in the world. And the pleading in his eyes when his brothers had suggested that she’d stop working for him…

No, she chided herself, no, she would not think of her employer in such terms; it was indecent and beneath her dignity.

As her thoughts flowed towards sleep though, she sat up suddenly in bed upon remembering what she had agreed to; no matter what her own boss loved to claim, this was merely her job, and they were not a family.

Why had she then accepted to meet Maglor’s parents? Wouldn’t it be awkward for him to introduce her as his little helper – the woman who ironed his clothes and made sure he didn’t lose his head or any other vital possessions on the road – to those who knew him best?

Maedhros’ face floated up behind her eyes as well; he had looked so honestly worried about the things she had said about his brother, and he seemed determined to change her mind.

She could feel the trouble ahead, but she was too tired and overwhelmed to come up with an alternative battle plan on the spot now.

Wondering if they had also gone to bed or if they were jamming in that overly bright room even now, she tried to force her thoughts away from the pristine skin and the discreetly bulging muscles of her charge and onto more innocent and restful images.

Oh, if her mother could see her…

Lots of love from me, as always, I hope you're both well 💖💖💖

#fanfiction #the silm #the silmarillion #Maglor #Maglor x OC #South Asian OC #South Asian representation #Maglor is a brat #writing #my friend Shalini #so much fun #also #Maedhros #Modern!AU #Singer!Maglor #Workplace romance

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sidehugsnsideblogs · 2 years ago

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FCSU #73 Fear and Hope

The relative peace Farrah had found was shaken one evening at family prayers. LeRoyce announced that a couple girls were to be taken away for "special training" for a few weeks including Farrah's eldest daughter, Hope. Mother Maggie would be supervising them but no other information was given. Mother Maggie was Royce's first wife and was the disciplinarian of the family.

At twenty-four Farrah had managed to survive the cut-throat Culton household by making herself as invisible as possible. Royce liked her well enough, not enough for the other wives to be jealous but she wasn't disliked like Marie, who became a family target. Farrah blended nicely into the middle, it was there she felt safest. Her daughters, too were treated well.

Unlike other families where only full siblings bonded, the Culton girls stuck together in one giant clique. The younger ones looked up to their big sisters and followed them around till one day they aged up became the core group, then the cycle would repeat with their younger sisters.

Late that night she knocked on Rachel's bedroom door. "May I come in?" Rachel looked weary but allowed her entry. Farrah sat on the edge of her sister's bed. "This special training trip with Mother Maggie, do you know anything about it? I would like to know if Hope needs her winter coat..." Rachel snorted, interrupting her. "Is that your real concern? Not Mother Maggie's strictness? Not the lack of information?" She said sarcastically. "Sorry, Emma was just here too trying to find out what was going on." Emma's daughter Serenity was the other girl selected.

"Do you know anything about it?" Repeated Farrah quietly. Given the community's focus on perfection Farrah was afraid to use her normal speaking voice. Rachel threw up her hands and fell back on to the bed, letting her manufactured smile fall. "No. Nothing! Last time we visited the Prophet he only let me speak of household matters. Then I was dismissed and he and LeRoyce went over the Priesthood business. When we left LeRoyce already had his instructions and I was left in the dark." Her voice wavered slightly. Farrah was shocked, she'd never seen Rachel this emotional.

"I have sat in on every Priesthood meeting since I married Leroy Culton, and now I am being replaced by my own son!" Rachel spoke in a harsh whisper, she couldn't risk being overheard carrying on like this. Farrah was shocked, she was aware that LeRoyce was taking on more and more responsibilities as he neared adulthood but in public his mother seemed proud and supportive. LeRoyce had even been claiming to speak for the Prophet the way Royce had for his father.

Rachel tried to regain her composure. "There are about a dozen or so different properties the FCSU owns scattered throughout the country. There's Becca's and Vangie's apartment, some motel in the middle of nowhere, the Newport Land, all of the Prospect, of course and the Swamp House. She could be going to any one of these places."

"The Swamp House?" Asked Farrah, anxiety sneaking into her voice. "It's a dismal place," warned Rachel. "It is a rusted out abandoned shack out in Henford with no heat or electricity. The air is so humid it feels damp and it seeps into your bones."

Farrah lay awake in her bed, imagining her daughter, alone in the Swamp House. It was almost too much to bear. Early the next morning she rose silently and packed Hope a bag. Though she knew it was against the rules she tucked a picture and some of Hope's favourite flowers in amongst the clothes.

The next morning several girls were lined up and shuttled off to their special training. The mothers were told to sing a soft, lullaby hymn to keep them calm. As soon as the van was out of sight, they burst into tears and held each other for support. Something about this didn't feel right.

#fcsu #fundie sims #fundie tumblr #sims4 #sims4story #cult blog

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luimagines · 3 years ago

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The Chain Confess While Your Hurt/ Upset Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

This section will include the W Trio! Warrior Wild and Wind!

As per usual Reader in Wind’s scenario is the same age.

Warrior’s cut can be easily taken out of context- (in fact it technically is) but reader discretion is advised for that one. It’s basically, reader strips, teases, is shameless, and Warrior panics.

Nothing bad but you never know.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

“Warrior you can’t be serious.” You bare your teeth in a snarl and place your hands on your hips. “You did not just ask me to strip and crawl down some time forsaken tunnel while you get to wait behind and hope that the others are on their way to help us.”

“Ok, when you put it like that-”

“Why do I have to do it?” You growl. “Why don’t you strip and crawl down there? Why was I your first option?”

“You’re smaller than I am, I don’t think I’ll even fit.” Warrior groans. “It’s not like I’d just ask you-”

“To put on a show or something? Is that what you’re after?” You raise an eyebrow.

Warrior chokes on his own spit at your bluntness and he feels his face flush from it. Admittedly, he wouldn’t be opposed but he’s not going to say any of that out loud. “It’s like not that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh then what ever did you mean, dear Captain? I’m almost tempted to do it just to get a rise out of you.”

Warrior begins to regret ever suggesting this. He’ll die. This will be the way he dies. He knows for a fact that if you do, it’ll get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t on the forefront of his mind when he first mentioned it because the mission is first but he regrets. Oh, he regrets.

But now that it’s out, he can’t take it back.

“I mean, I can try to do it.” Warrior offers to take your place to save his pride. “I can go first. It was my idea.”

“No, no-” You put a hand up to stop him and grip the hem of your shirt with the other. “-It’s not like it was a bad idea. And since the ever gracious Hero of Hyrule volunteered me-”

“Please don’t say it like that. You do not have to do this. Please stop, oh my- For Din’s sake!” Warrior whips his hands over his eyes as you rip your shirt over your head and turns on his heel for good measure. “I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? Put your shirt back on. What if the others on the other side or something? Or monsters? Or spikes!”

“Spikes? Really? Is that the farthest your imagination goes?” He hears you snort.

You have no idea what’s going on in my imagination, Warrior gulps and puts his other hand on his face out of embarrassment. He knows his face is beyond ruby red and he doubts that he’ll ever live this down. If Cia and Lana are watching he’s equally dead. “Have you no shame?”

“Pretty much.” He can hear the shrug in your voice and the way your belt buckle hits the ground.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Warrior whines, forcing himself to not turn around. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this. You. Do not.”

“Too late. Shirt is off. Pants are off. Shoes are off. Hair is up.” You start going down the list. “Sword... is going to have to stay behind.”

At least at that he hears you hesitate.

“Please take a weapon.” He nearly begs. “Please take a weapon with you through the tunnel.”

You don’t respond for a second and he peeks a little beyond his fingers. He doesn’t turn around, as much as he wants to look you in the eye for this and settles for staring at his shoes.

“I’ll take my carving knife.” He hear you say and he can hear you shuffle against the stone floor.

“Not a bow or maybe something a bit more sharp?” Warrior offers.

“I’m going in.”

“I’m so sorry.” Warrior takes a breath. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Quit being a baby. I’ll be right back. Watch my clothes.”

“I’ll watch over them with my life.”

“Good. See you on the flip side.”

He waits in the time it takes for you to shimmy through the tunnel until only your feet are showing before he makes his way over to your clothes and picks them up. The tunnel is dark and long and he’s not sure what to do in the mean time you’re gone.

He sits down in front of the tunnel and begins folding your clothes.

“WARRIOR!!” You shout down the tunnel in a panic. “This is bad! FIRE! LOTS OF IT!”

He gets to his knees at the information once it reaches him.

“I’m coming back and praying it doesn’t come my way!”

“Be careful!” He shouts and knows that he can’t really do anything to help.

“OH GOD SOMETHING EXPLODED!” You shout and he can barley see you through the light that’s beginning to shine through.

There’s a panic in his chest and he shoots to his feet to stand by the tunnel’s entrance.

“Fire! There is fire! I am on fire!” You scream.

The second your hand comes even close to the entrance, Warrior gets on his knees again and pulls you through the tunnel.

He’s not so concerned about the way your pulled out of the tunnel or how you scrape against the stone.

You do have some burns that he’s concerned about and he’s quick to rip his scarf off and place it around you, covering you and snuffing out the flames that have appeared around you.

“I don’t know what happened.” You say and wince as he pats the flames out. “One minute everything’s fine and the next there’s fire and something explodes and I’m crawling all the way through that nasty tunnel again with flames up my-”

“Ok, ok, hold on, I think I have an extra potion.” Warrior pulls his scarf up to your neck and wraps it around you like a blanket.

“Everything hurts!” You cry and slowly go to lay down on the stone, it’s cool against your burns and you sigh.

“Here.” Warrior takes out the potion from his pack and uncorks it, giving it to you gently as he sits beside you.

“At least I’m not alone.” You sip it from the side and let the magic do its job.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“No, it was just your idea. You didn’t make me go through there.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“I’m not even that hurt, calm down.”

“I didn’t even go after you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t fit.”

“I could have tried.”

“Well at least it’s only me and not the both of us. Time would probably have both of our heads if we were both stupid.” You snort and sit up again, the relief instantaneous on your wounds.

“I wish it was me instead.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Why? What is wrong with you?” You scrunch your face, the idea of getting hurt for the sake of getting hurt is unfathomable to you.

“I love you. Do I need a reason?” Warrior sighs and runs his hand through his hair before stopping half way with bulging eyes and a panicked face.

You also stop drinking the potion, letting a small drop fall from your lips and down your chin.

“Warrior.”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t just say that.”

“Link.”

“We don’t have to speak about this ever again. Or ever speak again. To each other. If you want. I’m going to die now. Ok. Bye.” Warrior stands up suddenly and begins to walk away from you.

“You better not die on me!” You growl and pull his scarf tighter around yourself, fighting through the swamped fabric to get to your feet as well. “I’ll kill you if you die. Don’t leave me here alone. I’ll kill you if you leave me here.”

“I’m going to find-”

“My clothes.” You cut him off. “Where are my clothes? Find those.”

“Ok. Ok. Yeah, of course, right- you’re still- Ok.” He paces around a bit before turning on his heel in a circle, finding your clothes somewhere off in the corner where he left them. He’s quick to make his way over to them and pick them up.

He clears his throat when he drops them at your feet and turns his back to you. “Any other idea where to go from here? Or how to get to the others?”

“Link.” You call his name again.

Warrior gulps and puts his hands over his face, his whole body tensing up. He nearly jumps in his skin when he feels your hand on his shoulder and your lips on the shell on his ear. He’s shaking.

Hylia help him. You make him weak.

“I love you too.” He feels you grin and he doesn’t even try to stop the shudder that rips through his body.

You give him a tiny kiss on his ear and he borderline whimpers from the contact.

“Oh this’ll be fun.” You giggle and Warrior bites his lip at the tone of your voice.

“Go easy on me?”

“Not a chance, soldier boy.” You laugh.

Warrior almost regrets this.

Almost.

Wild

Wild wasn’t sure what he was seeing or experiencing. There was colors and feelings and voices that he knew he was supposed to know... but when he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why any of that would be familiar. Nothing made sense and he couldn’t even remember what his dream was about.

He tried not to be upset by it.

Every time this happened it he knew he was dreaming about his past- but any recollection of it seemed to slip through his fingers. Always so close and yet so far.

He rubbed his eyes of the not shed tears and looked around the camp.

Time and Twilight were still sleeping- so at least they won’t have to know that it happened again. Legend and Hyrule were once again asleep next to each other with Sky sprawled full eagle next to them. Wind and Warriors were next to each other, sleeping back to back and sharing his scarf like a blanket. Four was on watch and when he noticed that Wild was awake, he nodded with a small smile and went back to looking into the fire- which really meant he went back into his thoughts.

You on the other hand, were sleeping alone, curled up on yourself and clutching your blanket tightly with both of your hands.

You looked like you were in pain.

Wild felt his heart call out to you, as it usually does and watched you for a moment, trying to see if there would be reasonable cause for him to intervene.

You could be in real pain and just asleep but he wouldn’t be able to help with that. Or you could be trapped in a nightmare and he would gladly wake you up- but you weren’t showing any signs of the latter.

Wild hums and shimmies back down into his bed roll, readying himself to attempt to go back to sleep.

He’ll make you something special in the morning. Hopefully that help balance out the upset night you’re both having.

Suddenly there’s a gasp and Wild twists over to look in the direction it came from.

After waiting a few seconds, you sit up and rub your eyes, smacking your face a little as you look around the group. Your movements are a little frantic as you look around, your eyes land on Four for a split second and wave to him before hopping around and twisting to come face to face with him.

Wild freezes, not expecting you to look as shaken as you do.

There’s a whole wave of unshed tears in your eyes but you seem to relax slightly at the sight of him.

Wild doesn’t know what to feel about that.

You gulp down what sounds like a desperate breath and blink, sending the tears down your face. “Wild-” You croak. “-Are you ok?”

Him?

You’re asking him if he’s ok?

“Yeah- I’m-” He clears his throat to not sound so groggy. “I’m ok.”

“Anything hurt?”

“No.” He tilts his head. What an odd question. “I just woke up from a memory is all.”

Maybe you’re asking him why he’s also awake.

“Oh. Good.” You nod and rub your eyes again. But then you panic. “I mean- Not good good! But like.... I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You stand suddenly and rub your arms frantically to fight the mild chill in the air.

“I’ll be right back.”

Wild doesn’t even get the chance to ask you’re ok as well. You nod once again to Four, who’s now paying a little more attention to his surroundings, and leave the camp entirely.

Wild stands up as soon as you’re out of sight and kicks away the blanket from his feet, making his way after you as quietly as he can manage.

Four looks in his direction and raises an eyebrow, not saying anything.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” Wild hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Four to hear him. “I’m just gonna check on them.”

“Hurry back.” Four replies. “I gotta wake the Old Man soon and I don’t want to explain why two people, one of which is you, are missing.”

Wild nods and picks up his pace.

He prays you didn’t go far. The night in this forest seems to be particularly dark, and it’s hard for him to see what’s in from of him. If you went too far ahead, he’d have no way of getting to you.

Luckily, he steps a twig which tips your hand. He sees the movement in front of him, of the shadows jumps to look behind.

“It’s me.” He says in a little more normal voice. “It’s ok. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh...” He hears you say. There’s a slight wobble in your voice. “Did you need something?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you right now.” Wild makes his way closer, pushing a branch away from his face and stepping into your personal space. “It’s a bit late for an evening stroll. It’s even more dangerous to go without telling anyone where you’re going.”

You chuckle but it’s half hearted. “I know, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It’s just... Nightmare and all that. I just wanted to walk it off.”

Wild bites his lip and tries to not audibly hiss. “Do...” Would you trust him like this? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“With you?”

Ouch.

“I mean, I’m offering.” He shrugs and smiles, even if he doubts you’ll see it.

“No...” You say after a long pause. “It’s.... I mean, not with...not with you. I’m sorry. It’s really personal.”

Wild takes a breath through his nose and ignores the hurt. “Well, I’m here if you need me. But Four’s also awake, if you want to go and talk to him instead. I mean, if you want to talk about it at all... I can stay here... and wait... until you’re done... Maybe try to fall asleep elsewhere.”

“No.” You whine and Wild has a split second thought that you might be crying. “Don’t- don’t leave me. Please. I think I... I think I just need to see you or hear you... What did- Why are you up? ...Again. You said it was a memory?”

“I don’t really remember.” Wild reaches forward and places his hand on your shoulder, followed quickly by his other one. He really wishes he can see your face. “I feel like I should but I don’t. It’s happening more often now than before and I don’t know what to think of it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs moving his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. In the process of doing that, the back of his fingers run across your cheek and he notes that it’s wet.

You are crying.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He tries again, heart aching in tandem with your pain, even if he doesn’t know what caused it.

“Wild-”

“It doesn’t have to be with me, just-”

“But I want to talk with you. Just not about that.”

“But you shouldn't hold it in. Talk to me, please. How can I help?”

“Wild, not with you-”

“Why not with me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you because it’s about you!” Your voice cracks and he can feel your hands fly to your face to cover it.

Wild can admit that he was being a little pushy towards the end there but your words strike him physically. He can feel his heart speed up at the thought and he’s quick to gulp down a breath. A nightmare? With him?

“Did I hurt you?” He asks in a whisper, leaning closer but loosening his grip on your shoulders.

He doesn’t know what hurts more.

The thought of him hurting you or the thought that you think he’s capable and willing to hurt you.

Does he scare you?

Do you actually hate him?

How does he fix this?

“No...” You finally answer him and step into his arms, placing your face (hands still there) into the crook of his neck. “You got hurt.”

Oh.

“You got hurt bad.”

Oh.

“They hurt you so bad, Link.” You break into a sob and wrap your arms around his neck. “There was so much blood- and- and- I couldn’t do anything. And you weren’t moving. And I tried calling out to you but you weren’t answering me and- and they were gonna take you away and kill you and I couldn’t- You couldn’t even fight back-”

He doesn’t even think to ask you who’s this ‘they’ you speak of. Wild tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your hair. “Shhh... It’s ok. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m ok.”

That explains why you were so shaken, why you asked him those questions, why he’s beginning to understand where you’re coming from by not wanting to tell him this...

“I know.” You whine and press yourself tighter. You focus on his heartbeat and try to convince your adrenaline filled brain that the boy in front of you if alive and unharmed and safe.

Wild reach up and tangles his fingers into your hair. He starts petting you, letting you cry into his shoulder without once letting go.

“I’ll be ok.” He tells you. “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

You nod and move your hands from your face, wrapping them around his chest. Wild smiles somewhat despite himself and nuzzles you with the side of his head.

“I know you can’t actually promise that.” You mumble and take a deep breath, calming yourself little by little. “I appreciate the thought though.”

“I love you too much to not keep it.”

“You love me?”

Wild freezes and nervously laughs. “Did I say that?”

“That’s what I heard.” You sniffle and lean away from him. “Is that what you said?”

Wild can see what little moonlight is left to look you in the eye and he swallows. “Yes.”

“Do you mean it?”

“...Yes.”

Wild’s heart is pounding now and he’s trying to calm down to hear beyond the blood in his ears.

He sees you smile and you go back to leaning against him, your nose just barely brushing up against his neck. “I love you too. Stay with me?”

“Yes...” Wild holds you tight again and gulps. “Yes. I will. As long as you’ll have me.”

Four for his part, had woken up Time ages ago, not wanting to put up with whatever mess you two would have found yourselves in. Time had followed in the direction Four had pointed him in and had found both of you there, arms around each other and asleep against a tree just beyond the camp.

Time sighs and is tempted to leave you there but his conscious won’t let him.

Wild is embarrassed to be caught but you’re too sleepy to consider why you’re awake again.

You hold Wild closer in your half consciousness and he’s forced to carry you back to the camp under Time’s judgmental and knowing stare.

Wind

“Ha ha haha ha!” You cheer and wave the key in front of Wind’s face. “I got the keeyy~!”

“I see that.” Wind pouts slightly and crosses his arms. “And I would have gotten it too if you weren’t faster than me.”

“But I got it! I win!” You skip and go to open up the locked door on the other side of the room.

“We’re not done yet.” Wind reminds you and there’s a new thing in the other room that he haven’t seen before.

There’s a pedestal in the middle with an open book and multiple candles in a circle around it. The air is strangely sweet and warm and it would lull you to sleep if you were allow yourself to relax.

“This is nice for a change.” You comment. “Smells way better than-”

“Than the past three dungeons in total.” Wind interrupts.

You pause and look at him, shrugging. “I mean...I was gonna say ‘our group’ but you’re not wrong.”

“Our group? What’s wrong with our group?” Wind asks you with a tilt to his head. Do they smell? Is he smelly? Do you think he’s smelly?

“You’re all gross and smell bad.” You say with a scrunched up nose. Wind would think it was cute if it wasn’t for your words.

“I don’t smell that bad.” Wind argues. “I don’t smell at all actually.”

“You’re all smelly.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“All teenage boys smell bad!”

“Ok fine! Who’s the worst?” Wind finds himself asking, if only so he doesn’t fight with you. “Who smells so bad that you can’t even stand to be near them?”

This causes you to pause for real this time and he stops next to you to let you think before you both go any further.

“You do.”

“What?”

“Kidding!” You smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “Since he’s not here, I’d have to say Sky, next is Twilight but he has a good routine of keeping clean so it’s not as bad.”

This confuses Wind slightly and he steps further into the room to investigate as he talks. “Sky? I thought you’d say Wild or Hyrule. I’m not surprised about Twilight being that high on your list. He always smells like some kind of animal.”

“I think it’s that pelt of his.” You admit. “Sky just smells strong. It’s not bad or anything but he always somehow smells like a cucco and I can’t unsmell it no matter how hard I try.”

“Ok. But why not Wild or Hyrule? They can smell pretty funky too.”

“Wild jumps into too many rivers for it to count and I think there’s something about Hyrule’s magic and his friendship with fairies that keep him from smelling too bad.” You walk up to the pedestal and get on your tip toes to look at the book. “He tends to just smell like sugar water and lemon drops.”

Wind gulps a bit as he tears himself away from staring at you when you bend over and tries to find any hidden latches on the walls or any floor tiles that seem out of place.

Nothing.

“What about me though?” He says to fill the silence. “Where do I fall on your list of smells?”

“You smell like sea salt and river water after it’s rained.” You try to latch your foot onto one of the carving and hoist yourself higher. “It’s not bad and it’s not too strong either... so like maybe an eight of ten.”

“Out of the ten of us?”

“Oh, I meant like on a scale how good verses how bad it is. Compared to the ten of us, you’re like number three. Four actually smells the cleanest with Warrior right after him, then you.” You push yourself up and try to find purchase with your other foot, not paying attention to how the flame on the candles grow.

“Four? The blacksmith?” Wind gives up on his search and turns around to see your perilous position. “Hey get down! You might hurt yourself!”

Wind doesn’t notice the flames either, but you’re tipping the pedestal at an unsafe angle.

He doesn’t want to come off as over protective and make you feel like you can’t protect yourself, knowing what that feels like, but the idea of you going face first into the floor has him incredibly nervous.

He dashes up to you and pushes it back into place.

“Oh.” You perk up and grin up at him. “Thanks. Come see what’s in this book. I don’t know what it says but it looks important.”

Wind frowns a little and lets go. The pedestal stays standing as it should and he’s a little less nervous about you falling. He comes around to your side and you hop off to make room for him. As he tries to copy your movements to get up onto it, his hand brushes your shoulder and your hair.

Startled by the unexpected proximity, you take a step back and knock over one of the candles.

“Good job.” Wind says automatically at the sound.

“Thanks Link.” You stick your tongue out and go to pick it up. “I can feel your love and support for miles.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well do you have any idea of what to do next because I sure don’t.” You look away and suddenly notice the size of the flames. They keep growing bigger and bigger and you latch onto the back of Wind’s shirt to pull him away. “Something’s happening.”

On cue, the flames grow large enough to touch and you can begin to feel your eyes begin to close.

Wind takes out his boomerang to fight the ever growing flames and he tosses it in hopes of extinguishing it but there’s no such luck to be found. What’s worse, you fall on top of him and he’s forced to catch you as you fall unconscious.

A deep laughter resonate around the room and the flames grow upward and sideways, parting to crate two arm like figures and two beady eyes with a mouth in the middle.

“A life force is always sweetest when young.” It laughs again and tries to reach for you. Wind brings out his deku leaf and blasts the flame away from touching you, standing over your body in an effort to protect you.

“What did you do!?” Wind finds himself asking the creature. It’s in anger more than it is to learn what’s happened but the creature responds to it regardless.

“Those who read my book, are under my spell and those who are under my spell, become mine to consume. The young always have a bit of fat in them still... makes them all the more delicate a treat. You’d join your friend in the same way had you read my book for longer, but I suppose this works either way.”

Wind begins to panic and he doesn’t think his deku leaf will be enough to fight the flame, nor will his sword do any damage. There’s not enough time to reach for a different weapon and there’s no way he can run past the flames without being hurt. Maybe he would survive if it was just him, but he’s not going to leave you behind.

Not now, not ever.

Wind gets up on his feet and take a deep breath. It’s thick and laced with enough smoke to make him cough but he stands tall and firm.

He needs to buy time.

Enough time that he can think of a plan and execute it without hurting you in the crossfire.

The creature closes in on the two of you and Wind is pressed by the lack of options.

Suddenly, Wind spots Wild through the gaps of the eyes and mouth on the other side of the room. Wild stands there shocked and confused but shoots the pedestal with the most apathetic ice arrow he can manage.

The flame dies instantly and the creature is cut off with a horrible ear piercing screech.

Wind covers his ears from the sounds as it dies out and misses Wild call his name in concern when he’s noticed. Instead, when the noise is gone, he turns on his heel and crouches over you. He shakes your shoulder violently and begins to whine in concern when he doesn’t get an answer.

Wild jogs up next to him and places a hand on Wind’s shoulder. Wind turns to the older hero before he can even speak and yells. “Where’s Legend or Hyrule or someone who’s good with magic? That thing put them to sleep with a spell in that stupid book and they’re not waking up!”

“What happened to you two?!” Wild replies as he dashes toward the ice brick that he’s formed.

“Don’t look at the pages! Don’t try to read it! I think it makes him stronger.” Wind cries out as he rolls you on your side.

“What even was that thing?” Wild dashes back to Wind’s side with the book under his arm.

“I don’t know but it wanted to eat them.” Wind can feel the panic tear into his heart and soul at your unknown fate and he hates that he doesn’t know what to do. “Wild help!”

“Ok. Ok. Here, let’s get them out of here first and we can go get help the others.” Wild stuffs the book in his slate and reaches over to pick you up, trying to be gentle in case you have any injuries that he can’t see.

Wind takes out his sword and takes the lead, making sure nothing else from the room surprise attacks them and that there’s nothing in front of them that will also attack.

“What if they don’t get better?” Wind looks back at Wild and finishes with looking at your face. He’s briefly reminded of that time Tetra was turned into stone and how there wasn’t much he could do to help her. The difference here is that you’re still flesh and blood and you look peaceful despite the circumstance of your sleep.

“They will.” Something catches Wild’s attention in the distance and he goes to place you on the ground. “I think I see Time. Stay with them, watch over them. I’ll be back.”

“Ok.” Wind takes a step to let him pass and waits for a second before sitting next to you. He reaches over and runs his finger through your hair, brushing it gently from your face.

He turns away then and sighs, settling his hands on his knees. “I hope you wake up. I need to be able to tell you that I like you.”

There’s no response- as he expected and it’s tears at his heart a little.

“I just figured this out for myself and I don’t know if there’s a way for the two of us to be together after all of this. But I don’t know if I want to live with the what if if I don’t say anything.”

“Say what?”

“I like you, a lot and there’s a lot of- wait.” Wind jolts up and shifts his eyes to look in your direction.

You’re looking at him with what he would describe as a dreamy look, sleep still holding onto you and rims of your eyes but you’re smiling and happy and soft-

“You’re ok!” Wind cries and pushes his sword out of the way, jumping into your arms and resting his head against yours. “I was worried.”

“I’m ok.”

Wind grins at your sleepy voice and it makes him giggle. Only for the other shoe to drop and he shoots his head up to look you in the eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Try everything.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s ok. I like you too.” You giggle and try to sit up, brushing your hair back again and poking him in the nose. “You smell like smoke now.”

“Is it bad?” He blinks and pulls at his tunic to sniff himself.

Yes, he does smell like smoke but he can still faintly smell the salt you mentioned earlier.

“No.” You smile and crawl into his personal space, using his lap as a pillow. “It’s warm.”

Wind’s breath stutters a little and he gulps, hesitantly putting his hand in your hair to run his fingers through it.

He looks back up just in time to see Wild and Time return with knowing smiles on their faces. He flushes deeply, but lets you go back to sleep peacefully, no longer afraid of any what if’s.

You’re warm in his lap and he smiles.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

254 notes · View notes

yaku-soba · 4 years ago

Text

i’ve seen this film before (this is an old story)

༶•┈┈ oikawa tooru x gn!reader | angst

༶•┈┈ general m.list

tags/warnings: angst (with an okay ending), swear words, oikawa doesn’t become a pro, kinda college au, author was listening to the folklore album and also mother mother while writing this, i think that’s warning enough

word count: 1.48k

a/n: this was originally supposed to be some sort of prose poetry for my poetry sideblog but it didn’t work out so </3 also, trying out a somewhat new writing style hehe :3

“someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story.”

― richard siken, war of the foxes

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

it goes like this: you fight over something small (it's never just something small), and after a while with whom the fault lies doesn't matter anymore (a double-edged sword: the fighting and the screaming and the shouting and the mocking).

it goes like this: radio silence, no missed calls, no unopened texts. oikawa, a character study: lover becomes roommate becomes a shadow you see slipping out the door if you wake up early enough. take-out ordered for one, a bed too large and cold. blankets that swamp you.

it ends like this: you cave first (you always cave first). oikawa is too proud to apologize and you are too tired and it is easier to brush all the broken pieces of each other under the rug (it's old, you don't remember where it came from, only that it's the colour of mold and smells like mothballs, despite your best efforts) and pretend the we are fucked up, we are fucking this up away. you hate the way this story ends, there is no other ending to this story.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

"tooru," you say, and the click of the door as he shuts it behind him rings like a gunshot. "do you know what day it is?"

oikawa is breathtaking, as always. "no," he says, casting his eyes to the moldy rug at your feet and then away, off to the side, "what day is it?" oikawa is breathtaking, and as always, he's a bad liar.

you smile, make no effort to pull it to your eyes. "it's pasta day," you answer, and it's as hollow as the ring-pop he gave you as a promise when you were younger (when you had thought you were in love; when you were in love).

he nods. "thanks for cooking dinner." he chucks off his shoes and socks in an act of practiced nonchalance.

there is no pasta day.

"welcome home," you tell him belatedly. he hums, says nothing in return.

(stilted conversation: the second stage of a terminal relationship.)

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

once, you were young and in love.

it's been proven: youth and love makes one foolish.

the story, or the prologue - it goes like this: you meet oikawa at an impressionable age (the boy next door, the golden boy, the boy the coaches eye in a game, the boy all the girls talk about, the boy). he proceeds to make quite an impression on you (a burn from sparklers on a beach at a festival, a failed ollie that left a scar on your knee, bruised wrists from volleyball, the - invisible, but you know it’s there, just as oikawa knows - stitch over the exit wound in your chest). you grow up beside him and along the way, convince yourself that sticking with him is a natural progression (cherry blossoms bloom for only two weeks).

you and oikawa, him and you. it has always been the two of you. this story is very old, this story always ends the same way.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you’re fucked up. you and oikawa, him and you - somewhere, along the way, you’d gotten fucked up. you don’t know who fucked it up first, it doesn’t matter anymore. (nothing matters but the brush of oikawa’s lips on your lips and the delicate flutter of his lashes and the rent that you cannot afford without a roommate).

oikawa is waiting on the couch when you come home (you came home later than usual - you’d seen him talking to a girl who had batted her lashes at him prettily the way he used to do to you). you shut the door behind you like a judge’s hammer, you slip out of your shoes and socks like water through earnest, cupped palms.

“late night?” he asks (no welcome home).

“yeah,” you reply (no i’m home). “i wanted to finish more of my project.”

oikawa hums, looks at you from beneath those damned lashes. “that essay?” he shifts, lifts his feet from the moldy-looking rug to sit cross-legged.

“yeah,” you say again. (you’d submitted the essay a month ago. you’re working on a presentation due in a week now).

“i ordered pizza,” oikawa says after a pause, “it should be arriving soon.”

you nod, step over the genkan and into the one-bedroom apartment. “thanks,” you tell him, “i’ll be right out.”

the bell rings while you’re changing into loungewear. you step out of the room just in time to see oikawa take the pizza out of the delivery girl’s hands - the same girl you’d seen touch his arm and smile (there is no home).

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa’s working part-time at a local diner that keeps long hours. you’re working on a degree.

here’s the thing: he could probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of his own if he’s smart about his money.

here’s the thing: you can’t.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“someone has to leave first,” wakatoshi tells you over lunch, “richard siken said so.”

“who?” there’s a tear right down the middle of your carrot-heart.

“someone who left first, or someone who was left. does it really matter?”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa with his long lashes and bedhead. oikawa’s sleepy smile in the mornings (you remember more than you know), the exact dip of his smile, the map you have of the lines of his palms.

the point is: oikawa staying out and not coming home (you stopped counting after the first month, but your heart still knows), waking up to a cold bed because oikawa started leaving earlier (to go the gym, he says). hesitancy in hands where there once was security, the subtle fall of a satellite out of orbit, the gradual fall out of the childhood familiarity of being young and in love. the point is -

the point is always oikawa.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa gets a new, better, actual job. he’s a volleyball coach at a high school, now.

you find out almost a month later, through takahiro and issei.

“oikawa’s confident they’ll make it to nationals this year,” issei says conversationally, sawing into his steak, “says his kids are promising.”

“what?” (you’ve seen this film before.)

“you know,” takahiro says, “the volleyball kids he’s coaching.” you did not know.

“ah,” you say anyway, fingers slipping around the fork in your hands and grasping onto the far edge of a cliff, “how could i forget.”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you finish your degree. you get a (relatively) stable job at a nearby design office.

here’s the thing: they pay you well for a fresh graduate. here’s the thing: you can probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of your own if you’re smart about your money.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“i’m moving out,” you say the moment oikawa opens the door, “thank you for everything.” (despite everything, you mean it. he’s taught you so many things.)

he smiles (it looks the same as what you imagine you’d smiled like the day of your first anniversary). “okay,” he says, and you think that that’s that.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a moment.

“yeah,” you say, “i am too.”

“thank you,” he continues, eyes almost the same shade as the day he’d brought you on a picnic, “i’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

you do (you feel the same, it is not the same love as when you had been fourteen and sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and nineteen, but it is still love).

“me too,” you say because there is nothing else to say, “you’re important to me. you’ll always be important to me.” it’s true: he was your first kiss and your first love and your first best friend and the first person you’re leaving first.

oikawa smiles, and disappears into the bathroom.

you stare at the ugly rug at your feet.

“is this okay?” you ask the broken pieces of you and him (curled around the jagged edges of each other, thorn to petal, bruise to open wound), “this is an okay ending, right?”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa as the boy you loved, oikawa as your youth, oikawa as a part of the past you will always hold close but not be held behind by.

a study in relationships: someone will always leave first, it is a very old story.

introspection and a universal truth: youth and love makes one foolish, being foolish is not always a bad thing.

the point is: someone will always leave first, sometimes people fall out of love, sometimes familiarity is not enough to hold them together.

an old story, another universal truth: someone will always leave first, it is not always a bad ending.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! :D do drop me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general taglist :”)

p.s if you liked this, it would Be Cool if you leave me an ask / scream in the reblog tags because it would satisfy my need for validation 💔💔

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#kyouka writes

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itsthewritergal · 4 years ago

Text

My lips are sealed - F.W. x reader

This is my first ever long fic! This will probably be about four parts :)

Warnings - mentions of abortion but nothing in detail, please don’t read if it may trigger you xx

Part Two

Part Three

Y/N held the test in a sweaty palm. She never knew how long two minutes could be, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the shop. She paced the staff room floor waiting for the results. She drummed her fingers along her thigh in an attempt to distract her mind. It didn’t work. She knew that the shop was busy but she had to know. Her alarm cut through the tension, quickly grabbing the test. She looked at it in despair.

Positive.

“Y/N I know you’re on your break but we’re swamped” George said walking into the staff room. Y/N quickly hid the test into her bag, wiping the tears off her face

“I’m coming” She said plastering a fake smile onto her face. George gave her a wary look, noticing the way her voice wavered, she walked past him quickly.

George kept a watchful eye on Y/N for the rest of the day, something was wrong. He just didn’t know what, Y/N was usually good at telling the twins when something was going on, which was why George was so confused why Y/N wasn’t saying anything.

----

Fred closed the shop door with a content sigh and a grin on his face,

“Well that was a good day! Anyone wanting drinks? I’ll get the first round” He suggested raising an eyebrow at both George and Y/N knowing that they almost never turn down an opportunity to go drinking

“Yeah sounds good” George grinned “Y/N?” He asked turning his attention to the girl who sat behind the till in her own little world, paying no attention to the conversation “Y/N” He said again, making her jolt her head up towards him

“What?” She asked confused, not realising she had been ignoring them both “Drinks?” Fred said with a grin

“Yeah sure” She said with a forced smile.

“Perfect! You two go, I’ll meet you there in a moment, I’ve just got to grab my coat” Fred grinned ushering George and Y/N out of the shop.

They sat in their usual booth in the corner of the crowded pub. Y/N still just as distracted as she was in the shop, “What’s going on?” George asked drawing Y/N’s attention away from picking at the nail polish on her fingers

“Nothing” She said quietly “I’m just super tired” She lied easily, George didn’t pick up on it.

Fred slid himself in next to George, placing their drinks down on the table.

“Drink up” He smiled

Y/N lifted the drink to her lips but with one sip she felt herself about to throw up. Climbing out of the booth she ran towards the toilets.

Y/N sat on the bathroom floor her head over the toilet. She let herself cry for a few moments, suddenly feeling completely alone. She heard a knock on the door, it was muffled.

“I’ll be out in a second” she said picking herself up off the floor, splashing some water on her face, there was yet another knock. With a huff she unlocked the door, she was greeted with a concerned looked George.

“You okay?” He asked,

“Yeah I’m fine, I think it’s just a bug. I’m going to go home” She said with a smile

“Call me if you need anything” he said giving her a comforting hug.

George made his way back to the table once Y/N had walked out of the pub.

“What’s wrong with her?” Fred asked

“Think she’s coming down with something”

“That’s not good” Fred said with a sad look “I’ll go see her tomorrow and check on her” He promised.

----

George was late, which left Y/N and Fred to manage the shop alone. It was a Monday morning which meant that nobody was in Diagon Ally, leaving both Y/N and Fred sitting behind the till. Fred was in the middle of telling Y/N all about the new products that he was working on. Y/N didn’t noticed how he got distracted by her and fumbled over his words every now and then.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you laugh” He said quietly

“We haven’t exactly had much time to ourselves recently” She said with a sad smile

“Not since the party” Fred said. Y/N refused to meet his eye, she had attempted to push that night out of her head “I’m sorry that I haven’t spoken about it” he added

“it’s fine Freddie” She dismissed, not wanting to admit that it meant a lot to her

“It was a drunken mistake” He started “I think we should just move on and not talk about it” He said with a wary smile, not wanting to let on that he in fact wanted to do the exact opposite

“Yeah I suppose that would be best” Y/N smiled sadly, knowing that the last thing she wanted to do was forget about it.

“You know I-”

“Morning morning!” George cut Fred off with a shout “Anyone fancy coffee?” He asked

“Not for me” Y/N said the sick feeling still evident in her stomach

“You feeling ok? When do you ever turn down coffee?” Fred laughed

“I think I’m still feeling a bit off from yesterday” She lied

“If you’re coming down with something you really should go home” Fred said with a concerned look

“I’m not, I think I just ate something dodgy” She said. Fred opened his mouth to speak when her phone cut through the shop “Sorry I’ve got to get this” She apologised walking a little away from the counter as she answered the phone.

“Hi is that Y/N Y/L/N?” The lady said

“Yeah it is” She answered

“It’s Lorraine from St Mungo’s, we can fit you in on Thursday, if you are still interested” she said, her tone was kind and it made Y/N feel at home

“What time?” She asked

“11, Is that okay?”

“I’ll be there” Y/N confirmed.

Y/N made her way back towards the twins who looked at her in confusion. She sat herself down without another word. Knowing that she didn’t want them to start grilling her with questions. Y/N decided to talk to George separately later, she didn’t want to get Fred involved.

-----

George was restocking the love potions carefully when Y/N tapped him on the shoulder.

“I need to ask you something” she said

“What’s up?” He asked turning to face her

“I need to take Thursday off” She said quietly not wanting to draw Fred’s attention

“Is everything okay?” George asked noticing how she picked at her nail varnish

“Yeah I just have an appointment” She said unsure of what else to say

“I’m sure me and Fred will manage” George grinned slightly, turning back to the potions. “Although as thanks for being so understanding you can restock these” He grinned thrusting the box into her hands. With a laugh Y/N took over.

-----

The shop was quiet all day, yet Y/N kept herself busy. She knew the moment she stopped she would think, and she didn’t want to think about anything. She had managed to avoid both the twins most of the day, she just wasn’t feeling up to being sociable. At the end of her shift she grabbed her bag and her coat and made her way towards the door.

George pulled Y/N aside just as she was making her way outside “Is everything ok?” He asked, looking her up and down with a concerning eye

“Yes of course it is” She smiled “Why do you ask?” She asked nervously

“I had a phone call from St Mungo’s, you had the shop phone as you’re secondary number” He explained “They wanted to confirm your appointment for Thursday” He said

“They didn’t tell you what it was did they?” She asked quickly panic beginning to rise up

“No, but it sounded serious” George said “I’m your friend. What’s going on” he asked

“It’s just a check up” She lied

“Didn’t sound like it” he said “I’m worried about you”

Y/N studied her shoes closely, George said her name once more, she lifted her head up and looked at George

“I’m pregnant” She said quietly holding his gaze

“Oh Y/N” he sighed “Are you-” he trailed off unsure of whether to ask the question which was on his lips.

“Yeah I am” She answered knowing exactly what he was going to say

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked,

“No I’ll be okay” She smiled slightly “just please don’t tell anyone” She added

“I promise, my lips are sealed” George said with a sad smile

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp #harry potter imagines #fred weasley imagines #imagines #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #hogwarts fic

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: shipwreck/overboard/injury

HELLOOOOO DEAR ANON THIS IS LIKE A YEAR MAYBE TWO LATE. BUT. ITS DONE. I DID IT. ITS DONE. originally this was gonna be a 15k zolu story about zoro n luffy taking a wrong turn in the east blue, ending up in the calm belt, and like. getting stranded there in the grand line before somehow finding their way to the east blue. but. this came out instead after many tries. so! i hope you enjoy and i am SO sorry for the wait! <333 no without further wait -

tumbling overboard, faces full of fear

- read on ao3!!!

It’s a storm, their first after Thriller Bark when it happens. Franky is manning the helm, the only one familiar with the Sunny’s system, (the only one besides Brook whose hands don’t reach for the spokes of Merry’s Wheel instead of Sunny’s, who doesn’t swerve the ship to hard to account for a thrice broken rudder, who doesn’t have the dregs of grief in him for a beloved ship) when a wave swamps the deck.

Thunderous and overwhelming, it swallows the deck, rushing up to the trees and covering the sea-strong grass on Merry’s lawn. His crew-mates are laughing, joyous, unafraid even in this storm when –

A flash of red. A yell turned scream. Terror.

His captain, dragged overboard by the waves in an instant, Zoro reaching out but collapsing half way through because he was too injured to move, to breathe, to get his captain –

No one else sees. No one else sees the widening of Luffy’s eyes matched in Zoro’s, the panic as an outstretched arm just misses the railing, as Zoro is too slow, too injured to grab on, the wrenched scream out of Luffy’s throat, drowned by the wind – no one.

No one but Franky.

“NAMI!” He yells, grabbing Usopp by the collar as he does so and pressing the wheel into his hands. “KEEP US STEADY!”

Nami, hair plastered to her face, eyes wide, has confusion and rage etched on to her features, mouth opening to give a sharp retort but –

Franky points, to where red is quickly sinking beneath the waves, and doesn’t wait for Nami’s expression to change.

A step, two, three, up onto the railing, and then a lunge upward and outward, arms over head. Franky dives, like he’s dived a thousand times before, into the heart of the storm where nothing awaits but water and rage and crashing waves.

His captain is down there, sinking, drowning, because of the fruit he ate.

Like hell if Franky is going to let him die.

The water presses against his eyes, digging in and choking the breath out of his chest. The currents try to drag him around, grabbing at his ankles, his arms, his perfectly coiffed hair, but Franky has faced off against the world and demons alike. The waves have nothing on him.

Still – the air tries to escape him, hurting, his chest becoming painfully tight. He wants air. He needs air. The panic, human instinct, is setting in, but his captain is still down in the waves without a fighting chance. Franky doesn’t breath, and presses on.

It’s… dark down in the waves, the flashlights in his eyes that he installed doing little to abate it.

He presses on, peering in the dark.

Luffy – come one! He thinks, almost desperately. Where are you?

Looking, looking, looking –

Something slaps against his face. Reflexively, Franky tries to swat it away before his hands land on worn straw and soft ribbon. Luffy’s hat.

Which means –

Franky kicks, harder and harder and harder, arms helping after one hand places the string around his neck.

Luffy! I’m coming for you!’

A second, two seconds – Franky is running out of breath.

Another second, four – he’s not going to make it.

Five, six and –

Red.

There’s red.

Franky reaches out and grabs his captain’s brilliant shirt, quickly hauling his captain, limp and drowning, into his arms.

Luffy’s so light. Dead weight but barely anything in this giant ocean. Barely anything when compared to Franky.

(His face is gentle in the dark depths, as if the ocean took every crease and worry in his face, every laugh line and scrunched Shishhishi! And smoothed it out into something as empty as the sea floor. Franky doesn’t like it. Not at all.)

There’s no time for any more contemplation. They have to get up.

The sky is dark above them. Franky can only tell its up by his internal altimeter.

He’s not going to make it with what breath his has now. Only one chance.

Franky breaths in, salt water pouring into his body. It stings, it stings, it stings but –

It’s a coup de burst. If there’s no air to use, he’ll use the water.

(It burns, but Franky once took a melding iron to his skin and never looked back. This is nothing.)

A second, two, precious when Luffy is still sinking, still drowning, here in his arms.

Three.

Franky grips tight to his captain, and rockets upward. Water presses against his face, trapping him, wanting him to stay in the waves, stay in her embrace, welcome him and the person who ate of the devil with opening arms, but Franky has a dream.

His captain has a dream.

He won’t stop now.

Luffy’s face lolls against his shoulder, unconscious, unalive here in the dark waters. Hang on, Franky wills, desperation aching in scrap metal bones.

Then –

Glimpses of something lighter, a grey instead of black, illuminated by flashes of light.

The surface! He thinks, triumphantly, and breaks the tumultuous, crashing surface with a thunderous, victorious gasp, sucking in air like a drowning man.

Which, to be fair, he almost was.

The air is wet and still rainy, the air mixed with water, choking him, but her forges onward, trying to find somewhere steady to breath. It’s hard.

In his arms, laid across his shoulder, Luffy still isn’t breathing.

And the Sunny isn’t anywhere insight.

He doesn’t have the chance to check for a pulse, no flat surface to pound his captain’s chest back into breathing, so Franky does what he can. Luffy’s rubber, isn’t he?

(Not in the water, something whispers.)

He can take it.

Franky pulls his captain from his shoulder as waves push him up and down, giant swells carrying him across the sea, far away from their crew, far away from their ship. He takes his captain in his arms and crushes him, close to his, squeezing him and all the water in him out.

It takes two tries.

Two tries for the panic to set in.

Two tries for his captain to start breathing.

But – a choke, a gasp, and Luffy is moving, coughing out sea water against his back even as the waves swamp them, as the storm presses down, as everything, everything is too much.

Luffy is alive, breathing slowly against Franky’s chest, and they’re lost in a storm, in the middle of the Grand Line -

But they’re safe.

They’re alive.

They’re breathing.

Super, Franky thinks, and focuses on keeping him and his captain alive.

When Franky was a child, he had drowned, once. Fallen off the rail tracks with a bag of tools and nails tied tight around his waist, too heavy for him to swim with, too heavy to do anything with.

He had thought he was going to die then, without telling Tom how thankful he was, without telling Iceburg he was actually kind of cool, without teaching Yokozuna how to swim or Kokoro how to make a super cola float. It weighed on him, then, the absence of a dream achieved.

Then – Tom had wrapped his arms around him, dragging him upward, upward, upward, with sturdy arms and reassurance, with a heartbeat resting next to Franky’s head. He had had fear in his eyes – it’s a look Franky will never forget. A look of fear, terror, absolute love.

You frightened me, Franky, Tom had told him that night as Franky rested against his side. Frightened me. Never do that again.

Franky hadn’t – not till a train was coming towards him with his father on it, slashing him to pieces and leaving him to sink on an isle of scrap.

Now – Now Franky isn’t thirteen and terrified of water anymore. Now, Franky is 34 and desperate, cradling his captain in his arms, half swallowed by the sea.

He wonders, looking at Luffy, if. Luffy would see the same eyes in Franky that Franky saw in Tom. If he would see the fear and desperation, the terror, the love Franky has for his captain, even as Franky risks life and limb for his captain.

(It’s not much for a man who is made of metal rather than flesh, but it’s all he can give.)

The waves have calmed around them, swells dying down to gentle ocean waves, a miracle in the Grand Line. It’s still drizzling, but the last of he storms have disappeared.

For now, at least.

It’s still the Grand Line.

Franky still isn’t sure how he managed to survive the storm, managed to keep his legs moving and Captain secure. He’s attributing it to some minor miracle now, some moment of truth, some blessing – something like his captain, and the wonderful order he pulls the world into, like a final piece clicking into a well-oiled machine.

He’s floating now, carefully inhaling enough air to keep him more buoyant, careful above the waves, arms spread eagle and captain laid out on his chest. He shifts, trying to keep Luffy out of the water as much as possible, but his hands and feet still trail in the water.

(The straw hat hasn’t left Franky’s neck, though it has shifted to his front. He’s too afraid to shift it, to let it go.)

The water takes a lot out of him, Franky knows. Like Luffy had just used all his gears, all in an instant, all dragging him down. He’s lethargic after baths, eyes sleepy, body sluggish until he dries off.

Luffy’s quiet now. The only sound Franky can hear that of his breaths, puffed against his chest, the sound of his own inner mechanisms, and the waves, lapping at his side. It’s not right.

His captain shouldn’t be this sluggish. This quiet. Franky shouldn’t be this useless.

But he’s alone in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but his own body to use, useless. Useless.

(He’s only been useless once in his life, unable to do anything has his parents tossed him overboard. Even with the train, he had been able to stand. Been able to fight.

Here?

Nothing.)

He misses the Sunny. Staring up into the drizzling rain, he misses his ship, his crew, his family. His misses his captain, he misses solid deck beneath his feet he just… misses not having to wait.

That’s all there is now, though.

Waiting, and waiting, and waiting, just for the ship to –

A stirring on his chest.

“Mhm… Fran… Franky?”

“Luffy!” Franky shouts, craning his head to see his captain blinking blearily on his chest. Luffy’s eyes are hazy but slowly locking on Franky. “You’re awake!”

“Wah – Franky? Where... where are we?” Luffy lifts his head, trying to view Franky himself, before thumping down on Franky’s chest, too tired to keep himself up.

Franky drifts his hand up, letting the waves ripple to rustle Luffy’s hair. “Out at sea, waiting for the Sunny, Bro! You went overboard in the storm.”

Luffy blinks twice, before letting out a quiet “Oh.”

He slumps down on Franky’s chest, still tired, still exhausted, and Franky thinks that’s the end of it. He contemplates sending up a plume of fire, a flare, but realizes that would be useless with no ship in sight.

Then –

“You saved me.” Luffy says, voice stronger but sentence simple. “From the water. Thank you.”

Something in Franky’s chest constricts. He remembers watching Zoro dive in to save his captain, coming out soaking wet and Luffy clinging like a limpet. Remembers Sanji throwing shoes aside and placing drinks down in an instant to lunge overboard, entering the water in a perfect swan dive. Remembers countless saves, drags out of the ocean, chests pressed and breathes giving, each to save their captain from a watery grave.

Franky remembers.

But never- never has that look been directed at him.

It’s – trust. Affection. Adoration. Surprise - for saving his own captains life. A look that should never have crossed his captain’s face, who selfishly selflessly gives his blood and bones and life and will to his crew without a second thought.

Past the tightness in his throat, Franky manages to choke out a “No problem bro! You’re the captain! ‘Course I gotta save you!”

He attempts to strike his signature pose, almost toppling them both into the sea as it does. Luffy laughs though, stumbling himself upward to sit on Franky’s stomach, feet crossed and finally out of the water now that he is conscious. He smiles down at Franky, bright as the sun even as rain drizzles down on him. “Shishishi!”

(Suddenly, Franky is glad Luffy didn’t see his face then, half drowning, and fully terrified. He wants the endless faith Luffy has in his crew – faith he knows he already has, but faith he still feels he has to earn.

His captain is 17, with a dream of the world on his shoulders. He deserves nothing but the best from Franky, and if that best is the super! protective shipwright that Franky knows he can be then –

That’s what Luffy is going to get.)

They drift for a bit, Luffy settling on Franky’s chest and starting to chatter endlessly, Franky keeping them afloat with careful moments. A sea king approaches, slammed down with a single fist from Luffy, echoed by Franky’s shout of super shot bro!

It’s still raining, but the drizzle seems to be lessening. Franky is soaked and Luffy is too, but instead of the fear of the waves and storm, the fear of being lost forever at sea, there’s just peace.

“Shishishi! Franky! I’m glad I got stuck out here with you!”

“Yeah bro?”

“Yeah! Being alone hurts the worst, but when I’m with you guys I’m never alone! Shishishi!” Luffy says, carefree smile despite the words that fall from his lips. Franky’s smile freezes on his face but before he can ask what Luffy means by that, Luffy starts shouting, jumping up on Franky’s stomach and almost rocking them over. “LOOK! THE SUNNY! GUYS!!! GUYS!! OVER HERE!!!”

Franky grabs on to his ankles, shocked out of his crisis. “Woah! Hang on, bro!” But Luffy’s right – in the distance, floating before them, small but most definitely there – is the Sunny.

They’re saved.

Saved.

And Franky knows what he’s going to do now. He takes the straw hat from his neck and sets it down on Luffy’s head with a ruffle before giving Luffy a devilish grin. “Hang on tight, bro!” Luffy gives a laugh, and grips hard to Franky’s chest. And with that, Franky sucks in another breath, larger, just like he used to explode out of the sea, using the last of his cola and –

“COUP DE BOO!”

They’re flying, flying, flying, soaring through the air with sea spray around them, sun finally peeking through the sky, Luffy laughing with Franky and –

It’s beautiful.

They land perfectly on the deck, to screams of joy from the crew. Luffy bounces off of Franky chest into the waiting arms of the crew, gathering each of them in long rubbery arms. There’s still the dregs of fatigue on him, etches of sunburn on his cheeks, and Franky, even with synthetic skin, is no different. Still – Franky clings tight.

They’re safe, they’re home, and Zoro is standing upright without that look of desperation, now that Luffy is clinging to his arm, and Luffy looks vibrant and loud instead of gentle and peaceful so –

Everything… everything is alright.

(Five weeks later, Franky finds himself alone and burnt, newspaper in hand with that awful, terrible, terrified look on his face, the kind he never wanted Luffy to see, the kind he saw on Tom’s face.

Being alone hurts the worst! Echoes in Franky’s mind, and he can’t, he can’t he can’t – Luffy is alone.

And this time, Franky is useless to save him.)

#anon im so sorryy this is so late but i hope you enjoy!!!!#op #one piece #whirlywhat #whirlywrites #franky #monkey d. luffy #luffy #zoro #roronoa zoro #nami #usopp #overboard #lost at sea #drowning #Anonymous #whirlyanswers

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donttalkaboutmemes · 2 years ago

Text

The Rescuers (1977) Sentence Meme

Under the cut you will find 100+ sentences from the 1977 version of The Rescuers to use for your enjoyment!

1. “This emergency meeting of the International Rescue Aid Society is now in session.”

2. “You have been summoned from all corners of the globe because we have reason to believe that someone is in distress.”

3. “Our society has never failed to answer a call for help.”

4. “Have a care, there.”

5. “This is no time for levity. Serious business, you know. Serious business.”

6. “Dash it all. It’s not much to go on, is it?”

7. “Please may I have this assignment?”

8. “It’s not like the old days when it was a mans world.”

9. “It could be dangerous. I mean, anything could happen to her.”

10. “I was about to suggest that you should have a co-agent with you.”

11. “Come on. We’ll be a great team together!”

12. “Through storm and rain and dark of night, never fail to do what’s right.”

13. “Maybe we better get back. It’s so dark in there.”

14. “Dark? Who’s afraid of the dark?”

15. “What did you do to make him so mad?”

16. “After all, waking him up in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t you be grumpy, too?”

17. “Boy, the things kids collect.”

18. “Do you think she could be still here in the orphanage?”

19. “Maybe she’s been adopted.”

20. “If folks find out that mice moved in here, I’ll get kicked out. Lose my job.”

21. “I am a mite too old to be chasin’ mice.”

22. “You listen to me, darlin’. You’re somethin’ extra special.”

23. “Someday a mama and a papa will come to the orphanage looking for a pretty little girl just like you.”

24. “Keep the faith, sweetheart.”

25. “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it or bag it or wrap it up tight, but it’s there just the same making things turn out right.”

26. “He doesn’t eat much, does he?”

27. “An old codger like me could use a little ginger.”

28. “You can trust me. I won’t tattletale on you.”

29. ��She wouldn’t have anything to do with trashy people like them.”

30. “Suit yourself, but you’d be wasting your time going down there.”

31. “She could be in real trouble. We gotta find her and help her.”

32. “Who could be ringing at this time of night?”

33. “You found it! You’ve found the diamond!”

34. “Can’t you control a little girl?”

35. “I’m sorry, but a lady does have to pack a few things, you know?”

36. “You know that flights are always late.”

37. “Fraidy cat?”

38. “Listen here, buster! I’m as fit as a fiddle!”

39. “Just sit back and leave the driving to me.”

40. “It’ll wrinkle my dress.”

41. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

42. “I sure wish we’d have taken the train.”

43. “I just love takeoffs!”

44. “He just went through a red light!”

45. “That little brat has escaped again!”

46. “Send up flares! Light up the swamp so I can find her.”

47. “He’s in trouble! You get down here right now!”

48. “This new batch really packs a wallop!”

49. “You look like you could use a swig of this. It’s good for what ails you.”

50. “I ain’t gonna hang around this creepy place long.”

51. “I’d like to give her a few whacks with my rolling pin.”

52. “We swamp folks would like to run her clean out of the bayou.”

53. “Why did you have to go and spoil everything?”

54. “It’s that poor little youngin’. She’s tried to run away again.”

55. “This fog is awful. You can’t see a thing.”

56. “So you tried to run away, huh? Well it didn’t work, did it?”

57. “All she ever thinks about is that little bear.”

58. “I’m not scared of them like you are.”

59. “I can go by myself! Thank you!”

60. “What is your alibi this time, nitwit?”

61. “We know who caught that ungrateful little brat, don’t we?”

62. “She’s insane! Utterly mad!”

63. “You don’t have a way with children? You must gain their confidence, make them like you.”

64. “You’re the boss, boss.”

65. “A mouse! Kill it! Kill it!”

66. “She tried to kill us! That terrible woman!”

67. “The society’s counting on us. We can’t quit now.”

68. “High tide or not, that little brat’s going to find me that diamond.”

69. “My dear, don’t be so shy.”

70. “I am going to let bygones be bygones.”

71. “I’ve tried as hard as I could! Honest!”

72. “We must try harder, mustn’t we?”

73. “Will you take me back to the orphanage like you promised?”

74. “Don’t you like it here? A big, beautiful boat all to yourself?”

75. “If I don’t get back to the orphanage, I’ll never get adopted.”

76. “Adopted? What makes you think anyone would want a homely little girl like you?”

77. “Please let someone find my bottle, there’s a message in it. Because running away isn’t working.”

78. “Don’t cry. We are here to help you.”

79. “We found the bottle with your message and we’ve come to rescue you.”

80. “Didn’t you bring somebody big with you? Like the police?”

81. “I know it’s late, but we have to escape tonight. Right now.”

82. “Those vicious monsters! They ought to be locked up in a cage.”

83. “We’ll be so far ahead they’ll never catch us.”

84. “Are you ready to help rescue that little youngin’?”

85. “On your feet, you lazy critter!”

86. “I was just a-waitin’ for someone to holler charge!”

87. “You are gonna go down in that hole and you are gonna stay til you find me the diamond.”

88. “I’ll just keep him up here where he’ll be safe.”

89. “Boss, you’ve really got a way with kids.”

90. “What a dreadful, frightening place.”

91. “It used to be a pirates cave.”

92. “You get that diamond or you’ll never see daylight again!”

93. “The pirate sword. Use the sword.”

94. “Just look at it, filled with power for its owner.”

95. “I know there’s enough to cut it into two equal shares!”

96. “You idiot! Cut up a perfect gem?”

97. “Half of it is mine, you double-crossing crook!”

98. “Buck up. We mustn’t be quitting now, must we?”

99. “If either of you try to follow me, you’ll get blasted!”

100. “Today she’s being adopted.”

101. “You are a darling.”

102. “You are a brave little girl to do what you did all by yourself.”

103. “Mice can talk like anybody. Didn’t you know that?”

104. “It’s another call for help!”

105. “Adventure, thrills, intrigue, travel, exotic places! Come on darling, let’s go!”

#ask meme #askbox meme #rp meme #roleplaying meme #sentence meme #lyric meme #disney meme #the rescuers

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megthemewlingquim · 4 years ago

Note

“You want me to give you your book/phone/item back? Make me.” with Loki and he takes her journal?? Or vice versa? You decide😂

Wishful Thinking

Summary: Loki finds your diary, and playfully teases you about it. You don't think anything of it until he looks at what you've written.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual fantasies, mentions of shyness in bed, playful teasing, smut, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms (only one is written)

A/N: A week has passed since Kinktober started, which means this is my Day 7 entry! I'm enjoying this a lot, but this week I am swamped with midterms, too. Say goodbye to my sleep schedule.

“What are you writing, pet?”

Loki's smooth voice takes you out of your thoughts. You begin to ignore the lo-fi music playing on your laptop as you see him come into the bedroom.

“Oh... it's — nothing.”

“Nothing?” he chuckles. “No, pet, I'm sure it's something. You've been writing in it for a long time; ever since we met, actually. I often see you writing it in the late hours of night, when I read my books and you're beside me. It must be important to you.”

Now you're blushing, you're sure of it. You close the black journal with a shrug, set the pen aside. “It's just a journal. I write stories in it.”

“You told me once that you used to write in high school and in college,” he says. “You've picked it up again?”

You nod. “Mm hmm. But it's nothing special.” You don't make eye contact with him for very long. In fact, your eyes go back to the page you were writing on as you open the book back up.

He closes the door behind him and stares me down, practically undressing me with his eyes...

“What are you thinking, pet?” he says.

Laying me down, almost tenderly, onto the bed, he shuffles me out of my pants and underwear. Then, never breaking eye contact with me, he kneels for me at the edge of the bed.

The God of Mischief and Chaos, kneeling to me!

And then he

The journal is snatched from you right when you begin to read the "good parts".

“Hey!” you exclaim, jumping up to try and take it back. He holds it above the both of you, and you curse yourself at being just a little smaller than him. “Loki, no!”

“Darling, what's wrong with this? I know it's private, but it's just 'stories', as you say. You shouldn't be so worried about me reading them. You want me to give you your journal back? Make me.”

“But — but Loki — ”

“But what, pet?” he asks. He must sense your desperation. “There's something you're not telling me.

"Let's see what's got you so riled up.”

“Wait — ”

Before you can protest further, he opens the journal and flips through it, feeling the black silk bookmark in the middle. He finds the most recent page you were on.

His eyes scan the text, and his face remains blank. You, on the other hand, in your embarrassment, sink back down onto the bed with your head in your hands.

You're not angry at him, you're just so, so embarrassed. Why did you have to write everything in pen? Why did you write it all while he was there? Why —

“Sweetness?”

Loki's voice is soft, so soft. Gentle.

You don't look up. “What?”

You hear him sink down to get to your eye level. “Look at me, love.” You hear the book close with a snap.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He sighs. “Okay. I'm not going to force you. I'm sorry I've upset you.”

“I'm not... I'm not upset,” you whisper. “Just embarrassed.”

“Oh,” he says. “There's no need for that. There's no need for you to feel embarrassed. Quite honestly, I'm extremely flattered that you write all of these beautiful, sinful thoughts about me.”

You scoff. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“I am. You're not... you've never been able to be... er, vocal... about your wants in bed with me. I've tried to coax you, but you've never brushed your shyness away. I always feel like I've failed to satisfy you.

“But this...

“This can help. If you'll let me, I'd be glad to help you.”

All while he's speaking, your embarrassment turns to confusion, to surprise. Your head raises, and your eyes are wet. “Er — what?”

He smiles. “You don't have to be embarrassed about anything. Not anymore.” He kisses you, then, smiling into it. It’s a soft, quick peck, but then you reach for him again, and kiss him more firmly and for a longer time.

“I love you,” you say, “I do.”

“As do I, my love.”

He pauses. “So...” A grin spreads across his face. “I’ve read that you’d like me to kneel for you and... make love to you with my tongue. Am I correct?”

You shudder at the mischief in his tone. “Oh — yes, please."

“Maybe we should get to that, hmm? Lie back, please.”

“Do you — do you want me to — ”

“Shh. Just — ” Loki kneels at the edge of the bed. “Just lie back and enjoy this, leannan.”

All of the breath in your lungs is knocked out of you when he says the last word, and it’s even harder to breathe when he snaps his fingers and makes your pants and underwear disappear.

Instinctively, you curl up and cross your legs.

He tilts his head at you with a tiny grin. “Now, don’t get all shy on me.” He gently spreads your legs and, without breaking eye contact with you, starts to lick and caress your pussy with his tongue. It sends subtle shivers and warmth all through you, and you release all of your held up tension in one shaky breath.

He grabs your waist with both hands and slowly pushes you down so that your back is on the bed. Then, he raises your legs - without even stopping his ministrations - and brings them over his shoulders. To finish, he wraps his arms around your legs, so you’re locked into his grip.

“You’re divine,” he whispers.

You have courage enough to thread a hand though his hair. As your pleasure grows, your whimpers and sighs become more and more frequent, though they don’t become any louder.

He doesn’t even speak to you. He’s fully concentrated on bringing you pleasure, and even that arouses you.

When you start to twitch and shudder as your orgasm approaches, all he does is look at you, his eyes daring you to come. And you do, freezing up entirely and sighing out your feedback.

When you’re done, you sit up.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Lie back down. We have a lot of time to make up for, love. And a lot of other journal entries to read.”

#kinktober #loki of asgard #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki #loki smut #loki friggason #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x y/n

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

��Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV�� or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

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

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

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

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #taz amnesty #reader request #meet ugly

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mollymawkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

My lovely friend @simplymyselff requested Jaskier hitting Geralt with his lute (maybe because he was afraid of him being a ghost) and patching him up because he feels guilty, so this is my attempt at it. Enjoy! CW: minor injury, blood, terminal stupidity from both of the boys.

There is someone in Jaskier’s chambers.

He woke up with a start a minute ago when a crashing noise broke the silence of the late evening. From his bed, he could see the window in the tiny living room of his student lodgings gaping open, the panes gently swaying with the light breeze of the summer night. He’s sure he closed it before going to bed; some drunkards had been belting out sea shanties in the street below and he needed to get some sleep before tomorrow’s exams.

There had been a quick scuffle, and then nothing, but Jaskier can see a large shadow moving in his living room from where he’s pressed against the wall now, his heart beating wildly. The light of the almost full moon bathes the room in an ethereal atmosphere, and the silhouette is moving from one side of his tiny living room to the other, silent. Slowly, it approaches the open door of Jaskier’s bedroom, and all he sees is a flash of white before he grabs the nearest object and swings with all his might towards the tall figure. It might not be of any use against a ghostly apparition, but Julian Alfred Pankratz is not going down without a fight.

There is a splintering of wood, a discordant twang, and a loud and heartfelt “Fuck!” that is definitely not at all ghostly, before Jaskier is thrown against the wall by a strong arm.

The most terrifying man Jaskier has ever met is snarling right to his face, a hand splayed across his chest to keep him still and a blade teasing at his neck. Pale hair form a halo around his head in the moonlight, and a pair of yellow slitted eyes are glaring at Jaskier with rage. Blood is running down the man’s face, dripping down his chin and onto the dark, studded armour cutting quite an impressive figure. It tells a lot about Jaskier that even in the throes of terror, he can’t help but remark how devastatingly handsome the man is.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man growls, and his voice is just as sexy terrifying than the rest of him.

“Who- what- excuse me?” Jaskier sputters, caught off guard by the stupid question. “I live here!”

“Why did you attack me?” The hand against Jaskier’s chest presses harder, and he feels his ribs start to protest against the weight.

“You just broke into my lodgings! I thought you were a ghost!” His voice definitely does not come out in a squeak.

The man’s glare doesn’t abate, but he does release Jaskier and sheathes the wicked-looking knife back into the holster on his hip. Jaskier flinches when he raises a hand, but it is only to prod at the gash on his forehead that is still oozing blood sluggishly. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh, excuse me for wanting to make sure! You could- you could have been a thief! You could still be a thief! What are you doing in my chambers?”

“Hm. ‘m a Witcher. There’s a spirit in your flat.”

“You just said ghosts weren’t real,” Jaskier definitely squeaks this time.

“Not a ghost. A godling.”

“... a what?”

“A godling. A mischievous spirit, like a lutin. Harmless, though it can play some mean tricks. I was trying to bargain with her to leave the city when she bolted and slipped in your flat. I followed her, but she must have hidden somewhere.”

“Oh gods,” Jaskier moans. “Am I going to be haunted? I really don’t need that, I’m in the middle of my end of term exams…”

“No, she slipped away when you… distracted me. It’s unlikely she’ll be back. I just hope she’ll follow my advice, or she might meet people who are less inclined to let her find a nice forest or swamp to settle.”

“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t break into people’s homes in the middle of the night. Unless it’s really important, I guess.” Jaskier looks down at his hand still clutching his makeshift weapon, and lets out a wail that has the Witcher taking a step back in startled concern. “My lute! I broke my lute!”

The wrecked instrument is nothing more than a pile of kindling, strings and pieces of the body still hanging sadly from the neck.

“I hum… I think I should leave you to it,” the Witcher is looking increasingly uncomfortable as Jaskier falls to his knees and cradles the broken instrument to his chest.

Jaskier raises his head and narrows his eyes at him. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah. You threw a fucking lute at me.”

“Don’t remind me. You need to tend to that wound. You’re bleeding all over my rug.”

“It’s a head wound. It always bleeds a lot.”

“Well, I’m not gonna risk you fainting from blood loss because I attacked you. Though I had a good reason to.”

“I’m okay. It’ll stop eventually.”

“This is nowhere near reassuring.” Jaskier declares cheerfully as he rises from the floor, broken lute forgotten. “Let me help with it, at least. As an apology.”

The Witcher makes a face like he wants to say no, but Jaskier is already lighting the candles on his desk and unearthing the poorly equipped medical kit he never uses himself, except for pain relief medicine after drinking too much wine.

“Come on, sit down, let me give that a look,” Jaskier ushers his patient towards the bed, and the Witcher looks utterly confused and out of place but complies, sitting with his hands on his lap and his hunched shoulders failing to make him look smaller than he is.

Silence falls upon them as Jaskier cleans the wound with unpracticed but careful movements, and he becomes increasingly aware of the level of closeness their position demands. Jaskier is standing between the Witcher’s open legs, one hand cradling the man’s head while the other dabs a wet cloth over his bloody hairline. The student finds himself blushing furiously, thankful that the other man is oblivious to his current predicament, staring right ahead of himself, which happens to be the open collar of Jaskier’s light nightgown.

“I’m sorry,” the Witcher says as Jaskier turns to trade the bloodied cloth for the little jar of balm he uses when he cuts himself with snapping lute strings. He looks back at the Witcher in surprise, but the man keeps his gaze down as he answers Jaskier’s silent question. “For your lute. I’m sorry it’s broken. I can pay for a new one.”

A wave of fondness for the weird man leaves Jaskier rather breathless. He hides it behind a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s okay, really. I got it in a game of Gwent last year. At least it wasn’t my lucky lute, and it never made a great sound anyway.”

“How many lutes do you own?” The Witcher asks with an arched eyebrow, raising his head to meet Jaskier’s eyes for the first time since he sat down, which causes the student to smear balm all across the man’s forehead.

“Let me think… there’s the one I use for classes, the fancy one for formal events, the one I take for gigs in taverns… my first lute, which is also my lucky lute… that’s four. Five, if you count the one I’m still mourning.”

“Why the fuck do you need so many lutes.”

“So I don’t find myself without one when I use them as weapons against thick-headed Witchers,” Jaskier deadpans. “Can you imagine a bard without an instrument? That’d be utterly ridiculous. Why the fuck do you need two swords?”

“Some monsters require silver. Others require steel.”

“Hm,” Jaskier hums thoughtfully as he applies the last of the balm to the already healing gash. “Well, yes, I guess that makes sense.”

He steps away to clean his hands in the little basin he keeps on the vanity in his bedroom, and immediately misses the warmth the man radiates. When he turns back, drying his hands on his own nightgown, he finds the Witcher standing in the middle of the room, looking unsure as to what to do now. Jaskier wishes he had an excuse to keep the man from leaving.

“Well, my friend, I think you’ll survive this terrible wound,” he says instead, stepping closer and patting the man’s breastplate awkwardly.

The Witcher hums, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, and he raises his own hand to trap Jaskier’s against his chest. “What would I have done without you. My hero.” His voice drips with sarcasm, but it has Jaskier’s heart beating wildly beneath his ribcage. After a slightly too long silence, the Witcher steps away, back into the living room where the window is still letting in the warm summer breeze. “Maybe… I mean, we could…” The man pauses, a frustrated crease to his brow as he tries to find the right words. “I might come back. To check on you. Make sure the godling hasn’t come back to… haunt you.” He finishes with uncertainty, then curses under his breath. Once again, fondness seizes Jaskier’s heart, and he smiles softly in the darkness of his living room.

“I would love that.”

The man’s shoulders sag with relief, and he turns towards the window, swinging a leg over the ledge. It’s all very romantic, Jaskier thinks. Like one of those books Priscilla likes to say are terribly cliché. He quite likes it, though. “Wait!” He calls before the man jumps from his window. The Witcher turns to look at him, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon, and Jaskier finds himself breathless for the second… no, third time in the evening. “What’s your name?”

“Geralt,” the man offers after a second.

“Well,” Jaskier scrambles for something to say, trying to stretch the surreal moment as much as possible. “Use the door next time, Geralt.”

This has Geralt smiling for real this time. It’s more of a smirk, to be honest. But it suits him nonetheless. “I will,” he says, and jumps, disappearing from Jaskier’s life as quickly as he stumbled into it.

#prompt fill #fic writing #the witcher #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #my writing #the witcher fanfiction

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danascully77 · 4 years ago

Text

X-Files Secret Santa Gift

Hi, @frettingoverthis! I was your secret Santa for the @thexfilesnet Christmas event! As you requested, I wrote a MSR fanfic based on the early years. It’s a bit silly, a bit smutty, and a bit mushy. I hope you like it! <3 (Also, I’m down to write another chapter with more smutty bits if you’d like). Happy holidays!

By the time they get back to the motel, Scully is absolutely freezing. She had blasted the heat in the car, but the cold air has settled into her bones and her body is visibly shivering as she heads to her motel door.

“Shit.” She curses under her breath as she drops her keys, her hand too shaky to navigate the key into the lock.

“I got it.” Mulder is behind her almost instantly, grabbing her keys from the door and nudging her out of the way with his hip.

A blush settles across her cold cheeks and she feels a tingle of warmth for the first time in hours. Spending a night on a rock in the middle of frigid water after abandoning a sinking boat was not what she expected from this investigation, but then again, none of Mulder’s cases ever are to be expected.

“Thanks.” She mumbles as Mulder swings her door open for her. A pout settles over her features when she spots Queequeg’s food and bowl near the frame of the door.

“I am sorry about your dog.” He looks almost bashful apologizing.

“It’s not your fault. I dropped his leash.” She admits, holding out her hand for her motel keys.

Mulder nods and hands them back to her as a harsh shiver races up her spine. He knows better than to address what Scully would consider a weakness and instead asks her about food. When she confirms he nods and takes a step toward his door. “I’ll order pizza.”

“I’ll be over after I shower.” Scully smiles, shutting her door to see a small grin on Mulder’s lips.

The past year has been a year of growth for her and Mulder and she lets a smile of her own grace her features as she strips her wet clothes off of her body.

She makes quick work of ringing out her wet clothing and hanging them over the edge of the tub so that they can dry, and eagerly steps into the heated shower. A sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, easing some of the tension in her shoulders from sitting hunched over most of the night to conserve body heat.

When she finishes her shower, she pulls on a silky pajama set and wraps a heavy robe overtop before quickly drying her hair. It’s a bit wild and unruly, but she has become comfortable enough with Mulder to not fret too much about it.

Once finished, Scully steps outside, shutting her motel door to walk down the sidewalk to Mulder’s room. This is one of the rare motels that doesn’t have adjoining doors, a recent staple in their travels. She knocks once and hears him call “it’s open,” before stepping inside.

“Perfect timing. The pizza just got here.” Mulder smiles and waves his hand to the pizza box on the small table in the room. He is already eating a slice, sitting along the left side of the bed. She realizes he must have also showered because his hair is slightly damp and he is no longer smells like swamp water. Her eyes try not to linger on his t-shirt and sweatpants clad body as she toes off her shoes.

After grabbing her own slice, she sits in the loveseat adjacent to his bed. His room is slightly cooler than hers and another small shiver tingles through her body.

“Still cold?”

“Hmm?” She asks around a mouthful of food, unaware that Mulder had been studying her for the past few minutes. “A bit. The shower helped, but I can’t seem to shake the chill.”

“Come here.” Mulder pulls the covers aside and pats the spot next to him. An eyebrow arches on her face, eliciting a chuckle from Mulder. “Don’t worry, agent Scully. I promise to stay on top of the covers.”

The grin he shoots her way ensures he will be respectful and Scully gives him an eyeroll even as she stands, bringing her pizza with her, and sliding into the bed beside him. She allows him to push the covers over her lap and tries to ignore the spark of liquid heat that shoots up her leg from where his hand brushes her thigh over the covers.

Mulder turns the television on to a random lifetime movie and for the next few minutes they eat in content silence. He abandons his position on the bed to grab another slice before returning to his place over the covers.

Scully can feel the heat emitting from his body and tries to subtly slide closer to him. If he notices he doesn’t say anything, letting her brush their arms together.

Licking her fingers clean of any lingering grease, Scully shuffles lower in the bed, tugging the covers higher on her body. The rational part of her brain is telling her to leave his room, but warmth is finally starting to seep into her chilled frame and she can’t bring herself to move.

Instead, she remains tucked in the sheets and absentmindedly watches the program.

A quiet yawn slips from her lips and she feels her eyes fluttering shut. Outside of their motel, the beginnings of daylight is making its presence known to the world, but neither of them notice. The thick blinds are drawn shut and Scully feels the efforts of staying up all night to fight a giant alligator catching up to her.

Mulder watches her out of the corner of his eye.

He is shocked by how young she looks. He knows of course, that she is still in her twenties, but outside of her pantsuits her youth is impossible to ignore. She looks so tiny and small wrapped in her robe, her blow-dried hair curled around her cheeks.

Just as he is sure that she has dozed off, her sleepy voice startles him out of his admiration of her youth.

“Would you really eat me if you had to?”

Mulder’s cheeks flush as his mind takes a dirty route involuntarily and he is grateful her eyes are still closed. He knows she would have given him hell if she had noticed the innuendo shining behind his eyes.

“Well, it’s just like you said. Survival instincts and all that.”

He turns just in time to see her bottom lip pucker out in a pout. The lack of sleep is making it hard for her to maintain her aura of professionalism and her true reactions are flashing like a neon sign across her face. Mulder relishes in the chance to see casual Scully.

Her eyes flutter open sensing his attention and she trains her sleepy vision on him. “I would have attempted fishing before I ate you.”

Mulder watches with giddy mirth as a cheeky grin takes up the expanse of Scully’s face and she tucks her chin down to her neck in amusement.

“God you’re cute.” The comment slips from Mulder’s lips before he can stop himself and he immediately realizes it is the wrong thing to say. Her smile disappears and she pushes herself to sit straighter against the headboard.

“I should go back to my room.”

Mulder watches as she moves the cover off of her lap and immediately tries to back-track. “Scully, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mulder, it’s late.” She checks the clock next to his bed. “Or really early. I should get some sleep before we have to check out.”

“Wait.” Mulder says again and leans over her lap to grab her hip, keeping her from sliding out of the bed. “Stay. The bed is already warm and you just stopped shivering.”

Scully’s hesitant, arched eyebrow tells Mulder everything he needs to know. He smiles and leans back to his place on the bed, holding his hands up next to his chest in a mock surrender pose.

“I’ll be a gentleman. Scout’s honor.” He senses she is still uncertain and drops his hands to his lap in a moment of honesty. “I don’t plan on sleeping until we are back home. I’m too riled up.”

“Still thinking of Big Blue?” Scully smirks, the first sign that her resolve is slipping.

“Maybe.” He grins back at her.

Despite her better judgement, Scully slides back under the covers. “I’ll stay. But only because it is warm here.” She ends her statement with a firm nod of her head as if solidifying her justification. Which she’s justifying by attributing them to lack of sleep.

“Of course.” Mulder says and hides his smirk by biting his bottom lip.

Scully takes a moment to situate herself under the covers and cradles her head on one of the pillows, facing away from Mulder. “Do you have an alarm set?”

“Yes, Dana.” Mulder teases.

Scully rolls her eyes, but doesn’t reply.

In truth, she has no idea why she is staying in his room. It goes against FBI protocols and is dangerous territory for self-control. Scully ran from a risky relationship, having joined the FBI to halt the irrational decision making in her personal love life.

Yet, staying in his motel room, in his bed, is only proving that she hasn’t run far enough. Mulder’s cheeky spooky charm ignites hot desire within her and she longs for her reckless college self to take over and jump his bones.

Instead, she huddles deeper under the covers and wills her body to go to sleep. She will just have to settle for being close to him.

By focusing on his body heat warming her backside, Scully feels the exhaustion of the night weighing her down and within a few more minutes she is fast asleep.

To Mulder’s credit he does keep his hands off of her but as the credits roll on the lifetime movie, Mulder tucks his legs under the covers feeling a shiver in his body. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but a thirty minutes later he is in dreamland.

The sound of the alarm wakes Mulder and he quickly reaches over to switch it off. He feels stiff, having fallen asleep upright against the headboard, and as he moves his hands over his lap to push the covers back he lets out a soft gasp.

The warmth in his lap is not from the blankets, but rather is emitting from the redhead fast asleep on his thighs.

In her sleep, Scully had rolled over and wrapped her body around his. Her head is perched on his lap, her arms encircling his waist, and her legs are tucked around his own. A small piece of her hair is blowing up and down with her breath as it dangles in her face and Mulder gently flicks it behind her ear.

He sends a silent prayer up to Scully’s god that she is facing away from his lap, his morning wood hard and rigid behind the back of her head and he knows he needs to extract her without waking her to save himself from embarrassment.

Mulder gently presses his hands against her arms, intending to pry her from his body, but the action causes Scully to stir in her sleep and bury herself further into his lap. Her head nuzzles against his cock and Mulder has to bite his lip to keep from grunting.

Attempting to push her off once more, she reacts the same way and her arms tighten around his waist.

“Shit.” Mulder curses under his breath and sinks back against the headboard. If he knew Scully wouldn’t be equally as embarrassed to find herself in this predicament, Mulder would find their current situation amusing and possibly adorable.

Staring down at the redhead, Mulder feels his cock jump against her skull and clenches his fists.

“Now is not the time.” Mulder chastises himself. He’ll think about this later tonight when he is alone with his hand down his boxers. Right now, he needs to get her off of him.

Mulder carefully pushes the blankets off of their bodies, exposing just how intwined around him she truly is. Her shorter legs are tucked up and between his own, her knee possessively placed across his thighs.

“Scully.” Mulder whispers, gently shaking her shoulder. “I need you to roll over.”

“Mmmm five more minutes.” Her sleepy form answers, nuzzling closer. It is clear she isn’t quite conscious yet, trapped between reality and dreamland.

“You can keep sleeping. I just need to stand up.” He tries again.

“Warm.” She grumbles.

“I’ll tuck you back in, just roll over.” Mulder’s attempt to reason with a half-asleep Scully fails miserably as her half-conscious mind processes the words. She does roll over, but not how he intended her to.

Instead, she flips herself the other direction and presses her face against the length of his erection covered by his sweatpants.

The movement makes Mulder freeze in surprise and he stares down at her with wide eyes. He is afraid to move, worried that she’ll wake up to realize just how close her lips are to his cock.

His hands hover in the air over her body and he rolls his eyes. “So much for god answering people’s prayers.”

“Scully, roll onto your back.” His attempt falls on deaf ears, Scully having already fallen back to sleep. Her mouth is open slightly and Mulder watches as a small trail of drool drops onto his sweatpants.

He has to throw his head back and shut his eyes for a moment to keep the visual of Scully coating his cock with her spit from his mind.

Glancing back down to his lap, Mulder assesses the situation once more. He thinks that if he can quickly throw her towards the center of the bed that she’ll be shocked enough to be able to slip out before she becomes fully aware of her surroundings. Then he’ll just throw a “good morning” in her direction and act like he has no idea why she was startled awake.

She might ask questions later, but it will give Mulder enough time to disappear into the bathroom and adjust his cock to save them from embarrassment.

He nods to himself to affirm his plan and on an intake of breath, Mulder puts his plan into action.

It almost works.

He manages to throw her toward the center of the bed with a quick thrust of his hips, but what Mulder didn’t account for was Scully’s reflexes. As her body is whipped over to the side, her arms lock tighter around his waist as her body thinks it is being thrown over a ledge.

She awakens with a gasp and as Mulder tries to extract himself from her grasp, he feels himself being tugged forward. The action lands him half over top of her body with his cock directly in front of her face. His hand braces behind her head on the bed to keep from pressing himself into her and he holds perfectly still.

It takes her a second to realize her predicament, but once she does she gasps loudly and pushes herself away from him, extracting her body from underneath his body.

“Mulder?” She questions after there is a safe distance between them on the bed and they are both sitting up, facing the other.

“I wasn’t trying… you were on my lap… I just wanted to stand up.” He fumbles, face turning a light shade of red.

“Are you blushing?” Scully grins at him. It’s one of the first times she has seen him flustered and it surprises her.

Mulder opens and closes his mouth twice, her sudden shift in questioning taking him off guard. “You’re not mad?” He ventures a question back to her.

“As curious as I am about how exactly we ended up like that and how you got under the covers…” she trails off with an eyebrow arch in his direction, “… I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He asks again, skeptical about her reaction.

“Mulder, I trust you. I know you weren’t trying to do anything to me.”

His eyes go wide. He hadn’t even considered their position as being anything more than embarrassing, but it’s true. She could have thought he was sexually assaulting her and the idea of that makes him want to puke.

“I would never.” His tone is stern and apologetic.

“I know.” She smiles and reaches across the bed to place her hand on his arm.

Mulder nods and looks down at her hand on his arm before they both glance down to his lap. His erection is clearly visible, tenting his gray sweatpants.

“I…” Mulder starts, reaching down to adjust himself over the top of his pants. As he does he accidently makes eye contact with her and his sentence cuts off in his throat.

“It’s okay.” Her voice sounds raspy to her own ears and she clears her throat to gain some dominance over the situation. “It’s a natural reaction. Many men experience morning erections due to…” “Scully, please stop talking.” He cuts her off.

“Right. Sorry.” She stammers and stands off the bed. “I should go change and collect my things. I’ll meet you at the car.”

Without further communication, she bolts from the room and Mulder sighs. His hand flies down his boxers and he flops across the bed, grunting as his hand makes quick work up and down his shaft.

“I forgot my… shoes.” Scully stops, mid-step in his doorway her voice squeaking on the last word.

“Jesus, Scully!” Mulder groans and jumps off the bed, his hand shooting out of his sweatpants, snapping his boxers against his hips.

“Sorry… I… I didn’t think…” She stutters and Mulder groans again. “Right, right. Going.” Grabbing her shoes, she darts from the door again, slamming it on its hinges.

“Fuck.” Mulder groans and runs the hand that wasn’t down his pants across his face.

The car ride back home is tense and awkward. Neither of them address the elephant in the car and Scully is pretty sure this is the sole reason that article 314 of the FBI handbook forbids agents fraternizing in motel rooms. Nothing good comes out of it.

As Mulder pulls up outside of her house she feels the tension thick in the air. She doesn’t want to leave things like this between them, but isn’t sure how to broach the topic.

“I’m sorry I put us in this predicament.” Mulder’s voice startles Scully out of her internal query.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have insisted you stay in my room.” The sincerity in his voice unnerves Scully. She is pretty sure she hasn’t heard this tone from him since their very first case together when he told her about Samantha.

“Why did you want me to stay?” Scully makes sure to lower her tone as well, as if afraid of scaring a small kitten away.

“It was just nice to not be alone for once.”

The answer comes so quickly and quietly that Scully thinks she imaged it at first. But a glance at his face tells her she hasn’t misheard. Mulder is looking at the steering wheel, a nervous expression across his features.

Scully wonders, not for the first time, what exactly happened in Mulder’s past relationships to make him so hesitate about emotional conversations.

Needing to comfort him, she reaches across the car to place her hand on his thigh. The touch makes him turn toward her with a reserved expression on his face. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I know I crossed a line today.” Mulder responses, not believing her.

“Mulder, we both did. It’s not like I exactly put up a fight when you suggested to stay in your room.”

A look of realization settles on his features. “Why did you stay?”

It’s Scully’s time to blush softly and she tries to retract her hand from his thigh, but his larger one suddenly drops from the steering wheel to hold it in place. The action traps her hand and her eyes lock with his.

“It was nice to not be alone.” She echoes his reasoning.

They both smile gently at the other before Mulder brings her hand up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it. Scully flushes a darker red and is grateful for the darkness of the vehicle.

“See you Monday?” Mulder husks, finally letting her have her hand back.

“Monday.” Scully confirms and opens the car door. She slides out and shuts the door before walking around the front to head into her apartment.

Two steps away from the vehicle she turns around and waits until Mulder rolls his window down.

“Everything okay?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to come up? I think there is beer in my fridge.”

She doesn’t even need to hold the breath she inhales because Mulder answers almost instantly. “Chinese tonight?”

“I’ll order it once we get upstairs.”

Mulder rolls the window up, turns the car off, and follows Scully into her apartment building. Neither is sure what the night entails, but one thing is certain: they will not be alone tonight.

#christmas exchange #secret santa #msr #x files

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tazmuir · 5 years ago

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Hello! I loved Gideon the Ninth so much!! and would like to draw fan art, would you mind sharing any helpful summaries of what each character looks like? or must us fans hunt through the book for every offhand line of description? (not that I'm not planning on rereading it anyway)

I have let myself drift back onto Tumblr after two weeks, am deeply affrighted and excited at the idea that anyone has drawn my kids (I had an AMA on Reddit and as said there, my editor every so often hollered into my inbox about amazing shit people were doing, but I was too busy complaining back to him that my face had gone numb and that I no longer slept, but instead the darkness of the grave claimed me for four to five hours each night). Thank you so much to anyone who has already done this. Many people on my team have yelled and yelled.

Back early on in the piece I made a document for him about what characters looked like in terms of basic ideas/outlines for copyediting, covers and sense purposes, and I’ve dug out that document and slapped it up here for general delectation. As a note: I imagine specific things when it comes to my characters (I am a Kiwi: I write Kiwis In Space as a default) but as I have nothing but joy in my heart for how anyone would want to draw these characters, feel free to glance over this, then toss it out the window. It would bring tears of beauty to my eyes if anyone was like “Yes, but when I was reading I imagined Naberius Tern as a huge monitor lizard,” because absolutely yes, Naberius Tern was just a huge monitor lizard, godspeed.

I had only described below the specific cavalier-necromancer pairs, so that’s what you’ll find below, sorry if anyone wanted Teacher.

SECOND HOUSE

The only ones who seemed even vaguely compos mentis were the Second House: as it turned out, they had been the ones to call Teacher to the access hatch, and now they sat ramrod-straight and resplendent in their Second-styled Cohort uniforms, all scarlet and white. They both affected the same tightly-braided hairstyle and the same amount of extremely gilt braid, and also the same serious-business expression, and they could be told apart by one having a rapier and one quite a lot of pips at her collar.

Captain Judith Deuteros and Lieutenant Marta Dyas are alike in posture, bearing and extremely crisp military uniform (think a cross between US Navy whites and the Regency navy). Unlike every single other necromancer on the cast, Judith never wears necromancer robes, but is dressed in the exact same way as Marta. Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is; Judith is imposing, solemn-faced and reflective, Marta is more keen-eyed and restless. I imagined both as Tongan.

THIRD HOUSE

[Coronabeth] was tall and regal, with some radiant, butterfly quality – her shirt was haphazardly tucked into her trousers, which were haphazardly tucked into her boots, but she was all topaz and shine and lustre. All necromancers affected robes in the same way cavaliers affected swords, but she hadn’t tucked her arms into hers, and it was a gauzy, gold-shot, transparent thing floating out around her like wings. There were about five rings on each hand and her earrings would’ve put chandeliers to shame, but she had an air of wild and innocent overdecoration, of having put on the prettiest things in her jewellery box and then forgetting to take them off. Her buttery hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, and she kept tangling a curl of it in one finger and artlessly letting it go.

The second twin was like someone had taken the first to pieces and put her back again without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but wore it like a very beautiful shroud on a mummy. The cavalier had lots of hair, an aquiline face, and a self-satisfied little jacket.

Coronabeth is massive, taller even than Palamedes, larger-than-life – statuesque, very bright gold hair, golden/bright skin, violet eyes. Ianthe is the same height but gangly and washed out. Skin colour defined heavily in Corona’s case as golden/olive-hued brown/tanned; Ianthe similar, but less radiant/more pallid whatever the case. Both have long hair: Corona’s should be big and bouncy, Ianthe’s flat/sleek.Naberius is shorter than both, brown-haired (brown can be light, medium or dark, it’s not defined) and blue-brown hazel eyes. Also has lots of hair, cut short, but sense of pompadour/waves. I imagined all three as Pakeha/white.FOURTH HOUSEBoth Isaac and Jeannemary are around fourteen and have pretty much the same body shape still: Jeannemary is semi-muscular and has lots of corners, Isaac is skinnier. Both are natural brunettes, though Isaac has bleached hair (orange, fauxhawk) and Jeannemary is described as having curly hair. Both have multiple ear piercings and eyeliner and the visual is somewhat Glassons storecard punk. Both have dark brown eyes. Jeannemary has a somewhat dusty, fierce, monochromatic appearance (brown hair, brown skin), and I imagine her as Māori. Isaac I imagined as NZ Chinese.FIFTH HOUSEMagnus Quinn is a man in his middling to late thirties, with short, curly hair: he is a frank-faced, nice-looking guy of medium build with a face inclined to wholesome smiles. His outfits should be absolutely exceptionally well-tailored and not very flashy. Imagined him as Samoan. His wife Abigail is perpetually neat, wears round spectacles and has long, glossy dark brown hair – she is the least described of a cast not very specifically described. Much like Magnus, she should always be beautifully and tastefully dressed, though in her case she would affect trousers as well as a robe. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

SIXTH HOUSECrouching in front of the hatch was a rangy, underfed young man: he was wrapped in a grey cloak and the light glinted on the spectacles slipping down his nose. Standing next to him holding a big wedge of broken sculpture and the flashlight was a tall, equally grey-wrappered figure with a scabbard outlined at her hip. She had hair of an indeterminate darkness, cut blunt at her chin.Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary-looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses so thick they could make spaceflight grade, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, and the head of someone with resting bitch face.

Palamedes is seriously underfed with a bony, thin face and glasses: medium brown hair cut short and with no particular thought for aesthetics, dresses just in greys, eyes particularly lovely clear grey. Camilla has very dark cold-brown hair – chin-length, straight and with a fringe – dark eyes. She’s compact and has lots of lean muscle, and I imagine her of being Middle Eastern extraction, though due to Sixth House parameters both will be fairly mixed. They’re actually second cousins, so there ought to be a faint resemblance.

SEVENTH HOUSE[Dulcinea] was a slender young thing whose mouth was a brilliant red with blood: her dress was a frivolous concoction of seafoam green frills, and the blood on it seemed more somber against such a backdrop. Her skin seemed transparent – horribly transparent, with the veins at her hands and the sides of her temples a visible cluster of mauve branches and stems. Her eyes fluttered open: they were huge and blue, with velvety brown lashes.

Dulcinea is a girlish woman who looks extremely fragile and sickly, like a neurasthenic Victorian maiden. Eyes should be extremely blue. Hair is light brown in long curls; skin is pale. Pretty in a frivolous, invalid way. Gives the impression of being slight. Outfits should be gauzy and nightgownish. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

The man who’d put the sword to her neck was uncomfortably buff. He had upsetting biceps. He looked like a collection of lemons in a sack. He didn’t look healthy; he was a dour, bulky young person, whose skin had something of the strange, translucent tinge that the girl’s had. He was waxen-looking in the sunlight […] He was dressed richly, but with clothes that looked as though they’d seen practical wear: a long cape of greyish-green, and a belted kilt and boots. There was a long, shining length of etched chain rolled up and over his arm, and a big one-handed sword hung at his hip.

Protesilaus is massive, buff, and also sort of sickly and indistinct-looking in his colouring – he is described as being made up mainly of muddy, ashen browns. Think Greek warrior, but with no vibrant colouring. Biggest on cast, even bigger than Colum Ash. Imagined him as mixed Pasifika.

EIGHTH HOUSEIt was a pair who were both boys – well – a boy and a man; one was a wan, knife-faced kid dressed in antiseptic whites and useless chainmail you could cut with a fork, it was so delicate. [Silas] was draped in it even down to a kilt, which was strange: necromancers didn’t normally wear that kind of armour, and he was definitely the necromancer. He had necromancer build. […] He gave the impression of being absolutely no fun at all. He was prim and ascetic-looking, and his companion – who was older, a fair bit older than Gideon herself – had the air of the perpetually disgruntled. He was rather more robust, nuggety, and dressed in chippy bleached leathers that looked as though they’d seen genuine use. One finger on his left hand was just a gross-looking stump, which she admired.

Silas is in his teens, has shoulder-length white hair in a braid and dark eyes. He has extremely pale skin, and coupled with the white robes and silver chainmail (all of which somewhat swamp him – he’s sort of slender and purse-mouthed) gives the impression of being arrestingly white all over. Pointy chin, oval face, disapproving expression, a little insubstantial. Colum, his older, larger nephew is much taller, broader and in his early thirties. He has medium brown hair in a short back’n’sides crop, dark eyes, and appears jaundiced in skin tone – he’s very weatherbeaten and tan-skinned, scarred, and though he’s dressed in the same colours he tends to contrast heavily with them and his leather armour is also beaten-up. He looks tatty and ill-used, expression is apathetic or forbidding; Silas always looks perfectly clean, crisp and white. Facially there should be a similarity. They’re both Pakeha, with Silas being significantly the palest person on-cast.

NINTH HOUSEThe light fell on [Harrow’s] painted grey face and black-daubed chin, and her short-cropped, dead-crow-coloured hair. […] She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high-browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and vicious mouth.

Harrow is a scrawny teenage girl with black hair cut short (as befits someone in a monastery) and truly black eyes: she never appears except in black and white skull facepaint. She has a pointed, rather triangular face, not very long, a triangular heart rather than a triangular diamond or oval. She wears black robes and long-sleeved, long-trousered clothes – all black – with no skin showing: the main decoration on this is bones. She wears a corset of rib bones and could have any other bone decoration, which has been written of in the book as bone bangles and multiple bone stud piercings in the ears. She’s more femme-androgynous than outright butch; in Book 1 she’s a bit birdlike and free of specific masc or femme gender markers in terms of outfit or build. I imagined her as being mixed Māori.Gideon is true butch: tall of height – at least, taller than Harrow – extremely, shreddedly fit with the muscular arms of a swordswoman or boxer. She should have a strong-jawed, boyishly pretty face with a big douchebag grin. Cropped hair same as Harrow, except that hers as an oblate is more of an in-your-face mop (could be partly-shaved except that implies more care than Gideon possesses) and is intensely, vividly red. I envision her as mixed Māori, darker-skinned than Harrow. She also wears skull facepaint, though hers tends to be much less careful and baroque than Harrow’s. She often affects a pair of black aviator sunglasses. She wears the same black cloak as Harrow, without any decoration, and a plain black shirt and trousers underneath. Her eyes are an extremely vivid amber with more of a yellow/golden tint than a russet one.

#wild spoiler nobody cared about: camilla and palamedes are second cousins #am I allowed to go look at the art now or will I fall about and die of joy #gideon the ninth #appearances etc #I have not come back to the Internet because my inbox was full and I was afraid. Thank you everyone who has read my book.#Naberius Tern is a monitor lizard in a wig. I'm not good at this #reply #otonin

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