#with the sorta cutting back and forth between two “sections” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neysaadept · 3 months ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 9

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 9 - Why Do You Keep Saying No?

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Smoking. Slow Burn. Murder. Depictions of Flaying. Implied Rape. Mentions of Date Rape Drugs. Strangulation. Restraints. Mental Institutions. PTSD. Childhood trauma. Psychological Trauma. Implied references to child abuse. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.6k (and I thought the last one was long)

AO3

Chapter 8

Two weeks have gone by since Indio and you turn inward, boxing up your feelings with a neat bow to return to status quo but you’re sure Prentiss wasn’t buying it. Thankfully, she was too busy with section chief duties to really bother you. Instead, you branch out and integrate further with the team at work. JJ found out you liked to run and meets you at Quantico a couple of days during the week once the kids were off to school to do it together. She took you around different parts of the campus to better familiarize the area. You and Rossi spend a lot of time talking about the history of profiling and the integration of its use into modern investigation techniques in his office as the two of you knock out paperwork. You also have a spirited conversation on why the Bears suck and where you were when the Cubs won the World Series. You, Tara, and Rebecca finally have a night together which you felt comfortable doing. You went to a nice Italian restaurant, knocked back a bottle of wine, and shared the basics on how you and Rebecca met, played pretend girlfriends as vengeance, and all about the HSC she was curious about.

You almost felt normal. But since you didn’t know what that was, perhaps you were just being human.

You and Brian kept in touch by phone and text since you weren’t needed face to face yet. He reminds you of your upcoming psych check in tomorrow which you send back an eyeroll emoji to express your disinterest but of course you would go. It was mandatory for as long as you said yes to joining the CIA.

Your side project with Penelope was also set up as FlamePit23 came up empty with any identifiable information. She ran an algorithm for most used words, phrases, and idiosyncrasies to assist the team pretend to be this woman. You, on the other hand, convinced Prentiss that it should be you posting as this user when the three of you talked about this in Garcia’s lair.

“It should be me,” you urged. “If this some how works and there’s a meeting, it needs to be a non-BAU related agent since Bailey outed you all at that fucking press conference. You know he’s looking into you if not already since the news of the shipping container broke.”

“Have you done this sorta thing before?” Penelope asks with that curious need that went beyond knowing a skillset. She wanted to know you!

You shake your head back and forth in debate before nodding. “Yeah.”

Her eyes widen and she squeals reading between the lines. “Are you a spy like Emily?!”

You lean back with a huff. “I can neither confirm nor deny this.”

“Oh my god! You’re a spy!” She points at you with excitement and then claps.

“I’m not not saying I’m a spy …”

Emily holds her hands up to stop the back and forth. “Regardless of how Whitlock came to possess these abilities, I’m authorizing her to make contact. But,” she looks sternly at the two of you, “you do this together and inform me the minute Sicarius takes the bait. Understood?”

“Yes Ma-!” Garcia was starting to say but the glare from Prentiss forced her to clamp her mouth shut.

You didn’t care. “Yes, Ma’am.”

And you so loved how Prentiss’ glare turned into a flustered eyeroll. Penelope noticed too.

There was also the case of Penelope blabbing out about your military training that piqued Luke’s interest since he was a former Army Ranger. Since there is downtime, he offers a chance to cut loose with you and spar instead of just beating on the heavy bag. With how you’re feeling, this was exactly what you needed. Not the psychiatrist. Good old fashion physical exertion with an opponent.

What you didn’t realize as you were getting ready in the locker room, is that the entire team, sans Prentiss, are going to be spectators … and there were bets. They knew Luke’s background and since yours was up in the air with how much military training you had coupled with what you learned from the CIA as a special agent, there was debate on who had the edge. Odds were 3/2 in Luke’s favor, but the team was split. JJ and Rossi bet on Luke and Penelope and Tara on you.

The four of them put out folding chairs at a safe distance from the blue sparring mat in a semi-circle, though JJ has her turned around to sit backwards on it for her own awkward comfort. There were other agents using the bags and practicing maneuvers scattered about the rest of the room, uncaring what the BAU was up to. Luke was first to arrive from the locker room with the appropriate red headgear and MMA boxing gloves, a black tank and shorts. You both decided on bare feet. He pats his chest and looks to JJ as she starts whooping. Rossi was amused.

Penelope was animatedly giving the double thumbs down as Tara booed. “You’re going down, Alvez! Whitlock’s gonna kick your ass!”

“Bullshit! My boy’s gonna drop her in five!” jeers JJ.

“Booooooo! A pox upon Alvez!” Penelope fires back.

“What in the hell’s going on here?” Prentiss’s voice carries over the trash talk. “I go looking for my team to check on deadlines and you’re all nowhere to be found. I only had this clue.”

She holds up a hot pink stinky note with the elegant scrawl of Penelope’s that said:

GYM AT 1200 MY LOVELIES

It was signed with a heart.

“Well,” she stood there with no answer and thrusts the note further, curling her other arm around her stomach. “Would someone like to explain why you’re all not at your desks working and Luke’s dressed like that?”

“Ah, just having some fun, Prentiss,” says Luke, knocking his gloves together. “Blowing off some steam.”

“And to be fair, you weren’t around to give a heads up,” explains Tara.

“You weren’t in your office,” says Rossi with a shrug. “We did look.”

“You all have access to my calendar to know where I’m at,” she shoots back while crumpling the sticky note, making Penelope pout. “Seriously. You all have better things to do-“

“Better things like what?” you ask, having joined the group after silently watching Prentiss berate the team. You watch as she turns around, her disappointing eyes switch immediately to surprise.

Like Luke, you wore the same red headgear and gloves but had your hair tied back in a ponytail. You also play with the mouthguard dangling from between your teeth as brown eyes look you up and down. You wore a blue sports bra and matching cross training shorts that showed off your lean, muscular build. The section chief never had a chance to see what was under all that clothing, unlike JJ who you ran with.

Rossi smirks and makes an educated announcement. “I think Emily’s in.”

“I, uh …” She has to tear her eyes away and looks at the expectant group. “Fine.”

You wonder why she gave in so quickly but shrug it off. “Hold on.”

Realizing Prentiss didn’t have a seat, you jog over to get another chair and set it up for her. Tara and Penelope raise a brow towards one another with interest. JJ commends the chivalry. “How nice of her to treat the boss right.”

“Oh, just shut it, Jareau.” But there wasn’t any bite in the words as she sat down and crossed her arms.

She ends up by Penelope who rocks side to side on her chair in thought before leaning towards Emily. “So, are you in on the betting since you’re all interested in the fight now?”

Penelope’s way of saying she was well aware of how quickly Emily’s tune changed after seeing Whitlock in different clothes without actually saying it. At least she wasn’t poking fun of her for it … yet.

Oh, what the hell, she thinks and nods. “What’re the odds?”

“3 to 2 favoring Luke. Me and Tara are on team cutie. Rossi and JJ are with Luke.”

Prentiss watches you and Luke discuss the terms of the fight. He had a height advantage and Ranger training, but you had similar training too. She had her suspicions that special forces were in charge of your training considering your secretive background. You clearly put forth effort into keeping in shape due to the demands of being a CIA operative, much to her wandering eyes delight. And since you were not not a spy, she was certain you had more in your bag of tricks than even those betting in your favor knew.

“Put me down for Whitlock,” she says without tearing her eyes away from you.

Penelope has to fight so hard that it wasn’t the only thing that Emily wants to go down on with Whitlock, but she behaves! She deserves a medal for that even though she should say it because Emily crumpled the cute note she wrote the team!

You and Luke tap gloves and both take three feet backwards to provide enough room to start. He put himself in a standard krav maga stance, relaxing his posture with a foot forward and his hands before him with his fingers spread out.

You just stood there, studying him, with your chin tucked down and standing similar to Luke. You were defensive without him easily reading you, which is what you want. You had been strenuously trained how to take down men like him in the field, and not just by military means alone. This would not be a flashy fight, but a fight to end quickly and decisively.

When you lock eyes you both nod as the agreed upon way to start the fight, and it begins.

Luke opens up offensively with straight punches that you anticipated. You duck down and back sweep Luke off his feet.

Rossi blinks in disbelief at what just happened in a few seconds. JJ looks the same but was able to verbalize what they both saw. “Holy crap!”

“She went all Karate Kid on him!” cheers Penelope but then has to admonish you playfully in the next breath. “But do not put him in a body bag! You are not Johnny Lawrence!”

Your brain was aware of the audience but as they were not a threat, it was background noise. The focus was Luke rolling off his back to stand up, which you allow. Now he knows you’re quick and would adjust his strategy, as would you. He lunges forward with an arm as a feint, but the true attack comes when he raises his dominant leg to kick into your side. You strike your forearm down for the block and with a focused yell, you thrust your palm forward and connect against Luke’s chest. You hear him wheeze at the sudden loss of air you force out of him as he goes down.

“What sort of training did you say she had again, Pen?” asks Tara. “Not that I’m upset that we’re winning so far, but this is pretty intense.”

“Just military.” She shrugs. “Nothing specific.”

“Looks like a bit of Marine training, maybe,” Rossi says offhandedly, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. Having served himself, he could see traces of the training he had but he could also tell you were drawing off other techniques in those few moves.

Prentiss wasn’t so sure that the military training you shared was what you were relying on either. You were anticipating Luke far too easily which indicated a more stringent martial arts training like Muay Thai or Jeet Kune Do. You were extraordinary to watch in these few moments with how you took command of the fight. You were stunning.

“Luke!” JJ shouts. “Stop falling on your ass and do something!”

His answer is a cough as you put more distance between him, allowing him a chance to get up. This is not how you would normally be out in the field, but this was a friendly fight and would give him one more chance. You watch as he puts an elbow to the mat to swing his body around and get to his feet. He sees you standing at attention, studying him.

“Okay …” he starts to say before taking several deep breaths while rubbing his chest. “That hurt.”

You remain impassive as you visualize dozens of scenarios that Luke could take. As he starts to come at you again, you block his punches with forearms, moving him around the mat with quick feet. You set him up how you want and fire back with two punches and a hook that he blocks but he misses how your heel turns at him, setting Luke up for a spin kick that connects right in his gut. Your feint works.

“Luke get up!” Which JJ does herself. She hopes that her voice will give him some strength to turn this fight around. Rossi is left shaking his head in amazement.

“Holy shit, girl!” Tara howls while clapping.

“She hasn’t won yet!” reminds Penelope.

“Eh, she will.” Emily points to you as you rush to the ground to hook one of Luke’s arms under yours and his head under the other. “Luke fell into her trap. She was playing him the whole time.”

With a firm grip of his tank, you tuck your head against his shoulder and plant your legs wide to counter any leverage he may have.

Luke struggles to find any give to overpower you. He tries to push up with his legs but is unable to flip over. Next, he tries moving his shoulders but with how you are able to control his upper torso, there was no momentum to even start. He grunts and pants, trying in vain to get off his back or get his legs around you, but your head was safely tucked in against his shoulder from any advantage he could find. As a last resort, he flails his arms to try and get a grip on anything, but your head was just out of reach as intended.

Rossi sighs, throwing his hands up. “I think we’re gonna have to call it.”

JJ sits down with a strangling groan as Penelope rises to her feet and applauds, cheering your name. “I knew you’d win!”

With controlling breaths, you confirm the victory with Luke. “You yield?”

He strains against your hold one last time before going limp. “Yes!”

And just like that, you untangle your arms free from him and hop up to stand. He looks up at you while catching his breath, arms flopping over his body to work out the tension your hold causes. “What the fuck, Whitlock...” His chuckle betrays his amusement despite his words sounding vicious. “I never had a chance, did I?”

“Kinda the idea to be underestimated.” You grin, offering a hand to help him to his feet. “Maybe you’ll have better luck next time.”

“Oh, you know it! Now I know what to expect.” He laughs, patting you on the back before you half hug each other with respect.

As Rossi and JJ were taking out money to settle the bet with Garcia, Tara and Emily were heading over to you. Tara playfully pushes your shoulder with a big smile. “That was impressive.”

You shrug and start feeling self-conscious. Prior to the CIA you would have bragged about your win and talked trash at Luke at how easily you won, but you have learned humility. “Thank you.”

Prentiss is surprised by the lack of bravado and found it quite interesting. This was a perfect time for playfully belittling Alvez losing after a commanding victory. But no. You were displaying genuine gratitude for showcasing your abilities.

One thing’s for sure, you can handle yourself in the field far better than I initially thought, she muses. “You had a lot more than military training.”

You blush and bring up a gloved hand, bringing your index finger and thumb together. “Maybe a wee bit.”

“Luke’s on to something, though,” she says, and you quirk a brow in question. “Think you can find time and pass some of this knowledge down to the team?”

“Uh …” you start rubbing the back of your neck at the unspoken compliment from Prentiss. It took you off guard and have to force your eyes to tear away from the intensely expecting brown ones that were fixed on you. You look around at the team and gently nod. “Sure. I, uh, I can do that.”

“Ladies!” Everyone’s attention was on Garcia now. “We have enough money to cover girls’ night tomorrow thanks to our CIA cutie de-mol-li-shing Lukey there!”

JJ comes up and punches her partner in the arm which makes him yelp. “Lucky I get drinks outta this but you!” She points at you. “You, me and darts.”

Prentiss smiles at the challenge. “My money’s on JJ then.”

You look quickly at Prentiss as you need to clarify something since the section chief hasn’t been acting like a sore loser. “Does that mean you bet on me?”

“I did,” she confirms with a nod. She knew who was going to win the moment you stepped into view, and it wasn’t just because she was caught off guard by how attractive you were. “I know a winner when I see one.”

“And this winner is finally going to go out with us!” Penelope joins the group flashing the wad of bills in the air in front of your face. “You flaked out last time.” Your eyes start to widen with apology, and she juts her lower jaw out petulantly. “No! You can’t bail on us again!”

“I’m sorry. I got CIA shit I need to deal with again,” The lie easily rolls off your tongue and the team accepts it. The only difference is that Prentiss was here this time when you said it and she was not convinced. She kept her poker face as you continue. “Full time consultant for the FBI still needs to go home and take care of things.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! You won us mad money to blow at the bar! You deserve to partake.” Tara says, trying to stroke your ego and win you over.

You half grin and shake your head no. “I’m really sorry. But hey! Think about it this way, there’s more food and drinks for all of you.” It was difficult for the BAU ladies to be upset with you for too long with that point. “I’ll even throw in another fifty as compensation for my absence.”

“Deal!” JJ swoops in to answer so fast to seal the deal.

“Good, now, I’m off to shower.” You look cheekily at Prentiss. “Think our boss might want us back working soon.”

“Astute observation, Whitlock. Fun’s over. Back to work. Except for you, Alvez.” She waves him off with a cringe. “You smell.”

The group laughs and he looks hurt. “What? And she doesn’t?”

Prentiss takes a hard look at you, and you fight a tremble that wants to erupt under her examination. Your skin was barely flushed with exertion, hair unkempt and loosened from the fight. There was just a small perceptible sheen of perspiration on your body or clothing, unlike Luke who had to work hard at trying to get at you or escape your hold. “Not that I can tell.”

Rossi whistles. “Take a hint, Luke, and go before you put the other foot in your mouth.”

Back at Langley, Brian was in his office between meetings working on getting his five recruits together for the holidays that were quickly approaching. It was going to be tricky as the other four were on various assignments around the world for the CIA just like you before Wilson roped you onto the BAU. He had to start pulling strings now and organize the right moves to get everyone stateside that would not compromise mission integrity. The other four recruits were not deep into a long-term op as you were so it would be easier, but not guaranteed. If he could pull it off, he knew it would make everyone happy, especially you and his wife. He started to think about this since mentioning it last month with you and instead of waiting until after your BAU assignment, he was trying to make it an earlier surprise.

Barton: Hey, I know you said not to bother you but there’s an Emily Prentiss from the FBI on the phone that wants to talk to you.

Eliza Barton was his executive assistant, and she knew that if Whitlock’s new boss wanted to talk, that she could inform Brian as she did just now over chat. Of course, he had to wonder what you did to prompt this call.

Korogoth: Go ahead and transfer the call.

His phone immediately rings and picks up. “I’m actually surprised it took you this long to call me. So … “ he leans back in his chair, “what did she do?”

“I’m sorry?” He heard Prentiss’ confusion.

“Whitlock. What did she do to prompt this phone call?” he clarifies.

“Oh. Nothing. She’s been a great addition to the BAU.”

That caught him by surprise, He wasn’t able to formulate a response because when people called him about you, it was due to your rough around the edge’s smartass remarks or skirting around orders that were still within bounds but questionable. Hearing a compliment was unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m pleased she’s acclimating herself to your team. Which makes me wonder what I can do for you.” The only other potential issue he could surmise was the stipend, but the money was easily allocated to the BAU budget. There were no issues with finance that he was aware of.

“The team and I want to know if you can reschedule her CIA commitments this weekend so she can join us for some socialization. Obviously matters of national security we understand.”

He had to think really hard what CIA commitments you had which ended up being none. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

There was a pause before Prentiss spoke up again. “She said last weekend and this she couldn’t come out to girls’ night because she’s unable to take care of all of her CIA duties being a full-time consultant.”

He rolls his head back in understanding. You were lying to the BAU because you didn’t want to hurt their feelings and used your non-existent CIA duties as a cover because no one would be able to verify it. You just didn’t know how tenacious Prentiss was when she put her mind to a task and clearly the section chief wanted you there with the team. It actually warmed his heart that the team took to you in this way and were disappointed you couldn’t be with them like this. And here he was worried that your gruff, humorous demeanor would rub your teammates the wrong way and cause friction as it had done with teams in the past. Which it did in the beginning, but Brian wasn’t aware of your fight with Prentiss yet.

“I think there’s been some mistake. She doesn’t have anything going on that requires her attention.” Yes, he was going to throw you under the bus and force you to be social. And yes, he warned you to be careful since you hadn’t been integrated into these situations in a long time, but this might do you some good as long as you kept the majority of your history quiet.

“None?” Prentiss sounded confused.

“Yeah, none. Her only obligation is to the BAU.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

He smiles against the receiver knowing that her mind was already working out a solution to your behavior. “Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

“Nonsense. You can call me anytime regarding Whitlock if need be.”

“I appreciate that. Though that doesn’t surprise me.”

He furrows his brow. “Why’s that?”

“Oh, she let me know you recruited her.”

His chest tightened with surprise. You barely tell anyone that unless it was with good reason. What reason did you have to tell Prentiss this? “She did?”

“Yeah. She couldn’t go into the details, but it came up during an off the clock meeting.”

Since when did you have off-the-clock meetings? Brian was baffled by this odd course of events. “Well, she must trust you to offer that up. And considering we worked together once upon a time, Whitlock’s on target with that.”

“Isn’t that nice of you to say. But I do need to be going now. Too much work and not enough time to do it.”

He chuckles. “Same here. Oh, but before you go?”

“Yes?”

“It was complete bullshit that Bailey got the job, and you didn’t.” When he learned that Douglas Bailey was tapped to take the deputy director’s role instead of Prentiss, who made the short list, he was furious. He had to do his own reorganization of the CIA executive roles, but he put qualified candidates in place when the org chart was settled and not some bureaucratic tools of upper management that cared only for budget cuts, dissolving departments, and a whole lot of ass kissing. Yeah, there was a new normal after the pandemic, but there were ways to be efficient without favoritism.

There was a lengthy pause on the other end, but Brian was patient enough to wait it out.

“Thanks, Brian. That means a lot.” Another pause. “Actually, before we hang up, can I ask a favor?”

Friday night came and you are curled up on the couch reading Nona the Ninth with Metallica blasting through the surround sound at the safehouse. The condo was located in the Penn Quarter, one of many units in the seven-story complex. The unit you are occupying is available on loan to CIA agents that were displaced and needed short-term lodgings. This was never used for CIs* or anyone under arrest due to the high foot traffic in the area. Operatives had ample places to eat whether they were allowed to roam about or ordered delivery only. Public transportation was easily accessible to go anywhere in the DC area. Best part is you have a parking spot in the garage, a hot commodity in a city.

The condo was modern in design with white walls, hardwood floors and track lighting shaped in a V overhead. There were white chairs and a glass table close to the kitchen but left enough area open to walk through. The couch matched the design of the chairs with comfortable throw pillows, one that was cradling your head against the couch arm. A large screen TV was mounted on the wall to the left of the patio doors that led to a cramped balcony, but the view of the gardens below was spectacular. Generic pictures and fake plants rounded out the area to attempt hominess.

Living here for the last month has been nice but you didn’t commit to making it your own yet as you were still trying to come to terms with being in one place for an extended period of time in the states. As you are winding down from the day at Quantico, you treat yourself to a tumbler of Moscato. There are wine glasses, but you are not picky about what glass you use, just what is in easy reach. It is the perfect evening that you’re comfortable with … until there was a knock at the door.

You put the book down against your stomach with a concerning face. There was nothing on your agenda tonight so no one from the CIA should be here. Everything had to go through Brian for approval to set up a meeting here and if it was him stopping by, he would have texted you.

So, what the fuck?

You swing your legs off the couch to sit up, setting the book on the oval glass coffee table. You pad over barefoot to the open kitchen and grab your Glock that is holstered on the brown speckled quartz countertop. You pull it free and remove the safety, leaving the holster behind as you approach the foyer when another knock occurs. With your gun pointed parallel to the door, you lean forward to look through the peephole and see … Emily Prentiss?

What is she doing here and how the fuck did she find me?

You unlock the door and slowly open it unable to smooth your features away to look any less confused. Emily was dressed casually in two-inch flat-heeled boots, jeans, a red blouse that you couldn’t help noticing it accentuated her chest and had the usual long coat on. Your brain was finding this hard to comprehend right now that Emily Prentiss was standing at your door.

She returns the favor and studies you as the music shuffles to the next song - Training Season by Dua Lipa. You had positioned yourself in a defensive stance by the door, ready to bring your gun arm around if needed. Brown eyes enjoy the view as you had pajama shorts on and a black CIA tee which spoke of all the work you were supposedly doing with the agency – which was none. She locks eyes with yours with a self-satisfied smile.

I need someone to hold me close, deeper than I've ever known

Whose love feels like a rodeo, knows just how to take control

When I'm vulnerable, he's straight-talking to my soul

Conversation overload, got me feeling vertigo*

She breaks the silence. “Busy working, huh?”

You scramble for an excuse, totally out of your element and comfort to be your cocky sure self. “I …Hey!” But that didn’t stop Prentiss from inviting herself in. “The hell, Prentiss!”

She strides through the foyer with hands in her coat pockets as you put the safety on your gun on the way to the kitchen. “Please, come on in!” you say venomously and place your gun back on the counter. You did not appreciate her behavior at all.

You could tell she was taking it all in to figure you out, but there was nothing of note to process as you still hadn’t brought your items in from storage. Everything was all chosen by the CIA as Emily soon surmised.

“Why did you lie?” she asks, eyes going to the tumbler and book on the coffee table. The only signs of you.

“Oh, no. You, first. How the fuck did you find me?” How dare she, how dare the BAU, break into parts of the CIA to find out where the hell she was. Penelope wasn’t doing that anymore!

She turns around and with one word shatters your anger into anxiety. “Korogoth.”

Why would Brian give up your location without your knowledge? That wasn’t the protocol you put in place. Unless … unless he fucking knew you’d run off and avoid a confrontation with Prentiss and come straight to him asking to be moved. Which really would only delay the inevitable conversation that you were going to have right now. You were well aware of the irony that you wanted to be included with the team at work but socially was fucking scaring you shitless. It always scared you shitless, which is why you’ve kept any personal involvement at work. Meeting Tara for dinner with Rebecca was different. It was a small intimate gathering and you would have done that with anyone that she was dating.

You once again stand before Prentiss with no retort because clearly your father figure wanted this to happen. As that shut you down, Emily continues. “So, why did you lie?”

You work your jaw and cross your arms, refusing to answer.

With a small tilt of her head, Emily nods. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me, but you’re going out with us.”

Your heart clenches as your eyes widen. “What? No!”

“You’re disappointing everyone,” she says, and you realize that meant her too. Because if she wanted to separate her feelings, she would have said the team.

“Won’t be the first time,” you point out petulantly.

Emily’s brown eyes squint. “And it won’t be now. You’re part of the team and the team’s going out.” With that declaration, she’s off to your bedroom.

“Hey!” You call out and stalk after her, but she already turned the corner.

By the time you made it into the main bedroom, Prentiss already opened the doors to your closet and was rifling through your minimal ensembles. “Geesh, Whitlock. You’re not giving me much to work with.”

“That’s fine because I think I made it clear I wasn’t going out,” you affirm before sitting on the queen size bed.

The bedroom was white and had hardwood floors like the rest of the condo, filled with basic modern furniture and pictures. Your personal duffel was stuffed under the bed that contained pieces of you and remained hidden. Nothing of importance was in the closet or in plain sight.

“And I think I made it clear you’re coming,” she says pulling out a pair of jeans to toss at you.

You set it aside with a huff. “This is ridiculous.”

“So’s hiding. Oh, this works.” Prentiss had to reach far inside to the back of the rack and finds a dark grey long-sleeved V-neck crisscrossed ribbed fitted top. She turns while taking it off the hanger and tosses it at you. “Get dressed.”

You look up at her with a scowl as you set aside the blouse. “Whatever you think’s gonna happen, regardless if Brian approves, it’s not.”

“Then tell me why not,” she presses and when you don’t respond, Emily comes to sit next to you on the bed. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is you’re scared of. And I swear to god if you cite it’s classified, I’m going to bury you in so much paperwork that you’ll think your first three days with me was a vacation.”

Fuck, you couldn’t help laughing at that. “Well shit. Can’t have that.”

You look to Prentiss and realize that the two of you are almost brushing shoulders with how close you are, but what really caught your attention was the sincerity in her eyes. She was pushing this because she cared. Emily said it herself; you are part of the team, and she cares deeply for the team. This was quite the shift since those tenuous first days when you were seen as a threat.

She saw you as a member of the team. It was a bit of a mind fuck to wrap your head around that truth.

You think back to the last time someone took this much interest in your well-being and you had one answer. Brian Korogoth saving your ass at twelve years old and that was a long fucking time ago for someone to give a shit about you that wasn’t just in the best interest of your country or as a CIA asset. Your three brothers and sister were thrusted together under similar circumstances and became a found family because you needed each other to succeed with Brian being the strong, caring hand that guided you all to be better people.

Prentiss didn’t have to do shit and went above and beyond to track your ass down just for a social night with the team. There was nothing in it for her except for your well-being.

You lower your head and stare blankly at your lap because your eyes threatened to tear up with a surge of affection that came over you. “You may find this shocking, but I really suck at being part of a group.”

She leans forward a little to try and catch your gaze, but you wouldn’t look up. “I don’t find that surprising at all.”

Your brow furrows and in one blink, are side eyeing her. “Why?”

Prentiss fans her hands out as she speaks. “Well, you being a not not spy comes with a lot of loneliness and awkwardness. You get wrapped up in everything that you’re supposed to be and forget what it means to be you.”

Oh, if Emily only knew it went far deeper than that, though she wasn’t entirely wrong. She understood the pressure of undercover assignments where you never knew if a subtle fuck up would mean your death. “Not completely untrue, but not the entire picture either.”

“Fill it in for me. What am I missing?” she urges gently.

You blow out a strong breath between your lips while rubbing the palms of your hands along your bare thighs. You are displaying how vulnerable you are, but you blame Brian for putting you in this position. “What did he tell you. Brian.”

“Where you live an-.”

Your only focus is what she said first. “No one is supposed to know where I am. So, why’d he tell you?”

She purses her lips and shrugs. “Because I presented an important case.”

“Which was?” you ask warily.

“That you needed to take better care of yourself.”

Fuck it all, that’s what Brian wants too.

Great.

“Helps that I can flex my section chief credentials to get clearance,” she adds casually which made you blanch.

You look at her in a panic and had to stop from grabbing her shoulders to shake the truth from her. “What does that mean exactly?”

Prentiss straightens her posture and was about to intercept your hands but settles back onto the bed, seeing the unbridled panic in your eyes. “Hey,” she says your name soothingly, “just on the list to know where you live. Nothing more. I wouldn’t go behind your back like that. Neither would Korogoth.”

Your shaky breathing slowly calms, and your hands find a place in your lap and behind where Prentiss was sitting. “Oh, okay. Yeah.”

She looks at you curiously. “Is this about what happened with the AWOL situation?”

You laugh humorlessly. “If only.”

That made her brows raise with some concern. “There’s more?”

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that.” Then wince. “Not exactly. It’s… fuck …” You bring your hands up to rub your face and grumble. “Uhrr!”

“Okay, I get it,” Prentiss backs off knowing that the burgeoning trust that is going on between you was about to snap. “Don’t need to answer, but please let me tell you that Korogoth also confirmed what you told me a few weeks ago.”

You managed to peek through your fingers with one eye.

“He confirmed everything you said without my asking for it. And that your stipend isn’t from the AWOL mess. That you earned it as a long standing, and decorated, agent of the CIA.” she assures. “Since he cleared me enough to get your address, he wanted to make sure I knew how incredible of an agent you are despite the whole ….” She brings her hands up and gestures wildly, “… mystery surrounding you. But to be fair? I’m well aware of it now too.”

You bring your hands down. “He said that, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“And you really think that of me?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Huh. Okay.” You nod, making a decision.

“Okay?” she slowly rests her arms on her legs, waiting for clarification.

“Yeah,” you give her a timid smile. “I’ll go.”

Emily’s grin spreads brightly across her face as she reaches for your arm. “Great. I’ll let the girls know.”

“No, don’t,” you say, stopping her from reaching for her phone. The accidental brush of your fingers sends a rush of heat through you, and you drop your hand.

“I’m confused. Why not?” she asks, curling her hand away hiding the similar effect it had on her.

Chapter 10

You grin. “Let’s surprise them.”

*Criminal Informants

*Lyrics from Training Season, Dua Lipa. The song was not from 2022 but this fits so well. So canon divergent we go!

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean @unoreverselu @fluffypalmtree

Let me know if you would like to be tagged as well. Thank you for reading!

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily x reader #prometheus #emily x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,” You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force. “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #female reader #monster romance #orc x reader #angst #orc

563 notes · View notes

mmamagoto · 4 years ago

Text

are u guys prepared for this i put all five of the muses here on this one. so of course it’s under a cut for being long as hell

nicknames:

gender: female

age:

date of birth: april 30

origin of birth: listen they’re all from the human world on this blog so let me just save myself the trouble of typing that four more times

race/species: cat (scottish fold)

spoken languages:

romantic/sexual preference: middles toward aromantic

occupation: royal assistant and whatever else they can toss under the umbrella of ‘assistant duties’

hobbies: space, sports (or more specifically, competition), stereotypically Cool Boy things like dinosaurs and creepy crawlies, annoying natori

criminal record:

disorders: none

eye color: kind of a hazel thinking emoji they’re pretty tbh

height: markedly shorter than every other cat in this dang film

scars: possibly a few very minor ones from some scrapes and clumsiness upon first coming to the cat kingdom, but they’re probably not very noticeable

birthmarks: none

overweight: i’m. not sure thinking emoji she’s definitely a solidly-built little thing but considering she’s a cat it literally could just be her body type lmao. even so, she doesn’t consider it an issue, and neither does anyone else tbh

underweight: no

favorite color: olive green, pink

favorite food: yakiimo

wants to get married / is married: n. no

gotten pregnant / had a child: no

wants a child: not really. she’s content with her cool big sister role

likes children: yes. she has kind of a natural rapport with them

can sing: i mean. she can probably carry a tune

play an instrument: probably not

can dance: ???

gotten tattoos:

gotten piercings: nah

smoked/drank/done drugs: has probably definitely had Drinks. also like probably catnip/matatabi, which all things considered i’m not sure if it counts lmao

had a broken heart: not really

been in love: not really

a cuddler: Probably bc i’m still very amused by her and natori having to share a room during a trip to another kingdom and natori Suffering the entire time

a kisser:

scared easily: she’s skittish which is Unfortunate bc she is the ‘reacts to jump scares by punching them’ type

jealous easily: it. depends on what it is. she tends to be more the envious type, where she covets Unique and Cool objects over companionship

hot/cool tempered: generally very cool. she’s a tolerant creature, and i feel like that tends to get overlooked thinking emoji

trustworthy: mostly, particularly when compared with her two coworkers lmao

single: yes

extroverted/introverted: she’s adaptable

considered mean: this one is so funny to me bc i think, when compared with natori who is kind of in a similar position to her in the hierarchy, she’s often seen as the more approachable one which is ironic bc between the two of them she’s the uhhhh. less Understanding one. she will sell you for a corn chip

fears: sugoroku space, dogs (just slightly), stick bugs but every other kinda bug is Fine By Her, natori with a ruler in his paw

siblings: marsh (older brother)

parents: unknown

pet(s): none

nicknames: mostly (even now) referred to by titles by everyone except lune

gender: male

age:

date of birth: august 2

origin of birth: see above

race/species: cat (probably a persian)

spoken languages:

romantic/sexual preference: i kinda lean toward bi or panromantic tbh

occupation: retired king so. mostly just a NEET at this point

hobbies: traveling (mostly to show off but stILL). other than that, now that he’s retired, he’s struggled with finding hobbies that aren’t just napping or following natori around. he’s not a patient or committed creature, so when he tries something new and it’s Too Hard, he tends to lose interest very quickly. that said, he definitely relies very heavily on other people, natori, natoru, and entertainers, etc. to provide him with things to pass the time

criminal record: he’s offended at this very notion

disorders: does. does strabismus count

eye color: has marked heterochromia, with one blue eye and one red eye

height: Tall for a cat jjfkdeia

scars: none

birthmarks: none

overweight: actually, no

underweight: no, tho without all the fur, he definitely has a scrawnier, less conventionally cute look to him jfjfie;a

favorite color: gold

favorite food: oden

wants to get married / is married: he maybe kinda sorta misses being married (or, more specifically, having a significant other)

gotten pregnant / had a child: yes, so long as adoption counts

wants a child: a grandkid sounds kinda nice

likes children: yes, but to absolutely no one’s surprise he’s a bad influence on them and has No Clue how to interact with them when they’re upset. he also is 100% the type to throw hands with a preschooler

can sing: OF COURSE

play an instrument: no, tho he certainly likes the idea of being able to. he’s badgered natori into trying to teach him before inevitably getting bored with the practice when he’s not instantly a genius at it (see above in the hobbies section, aha)

can dance: definitely. unless it’s not a ballroom dance. then no one wants to see that

gotten tattoos:

gotten piercings: mm, probably not

smoked/drank/done drugs: absolutely

had a broken heart: yes

been in love: twice

a cuddler: It Depends. he was once someone’s Ultra Pampered house cat, so he’s of the five of them probably the most amenable to being pet and held, but he’s also temperamental and finicky so uh. Pet At Your Own Risk ig

a kisser:

scared easily: not really. he’s too impulsive to be scared psh

jealous easily: 100%

hot/cool tempered: HE CLIMBED HIS WAY UP A TOWER WITH NOTHING BUT HIS CLAWS AND SHEER OFFENDED WILLPOWER.............. and all with two swords strapped to him..............

trustworthy: not too much

single: it’s. Complicated

extroverted/introverted: extroverted, mostly, but he has his random introspective moments when he generally wants to be alone

considered mean: I MEAN. it really depends jfjfei;a i will go to the grave with this headcanon that he’s honestly well-liked as a ruler but has a definite reputation of being difficult-to-please and mercurial

fears: being genuinely or legitimately Disliked, pissing off lune to the point he turns his back on him, squeamish with squirmy things

siblings: none

parents: unknown. the previous queen is his mother-in-law

pet(s): none

nicknames: an endless cavalcade of affectionate nicknames from his father and no one can convince me otherwise

gender: male

age:

date of birth: october 27

origin of birth: see above

race/species: cat (the fandom seems to have him pegged as a russian blue and i’m not gonna disagree sO)

spoken languages:

romantic/sexual preference: probably heteroromantic

occupation: king of cat kingdom :v

hobbies: butterflies and moths, idk does urban exploration count for a cat lmao

criminal record: no

disorders: none

eye color: shares his father’s heterochromia-- one blue eye, one red eye

height: notably smaller than his father but still taller than natoru like everyone else jfkfd;a

scars: none

birthmarks: none

overweight: no

underweight: no

favorite color: aquamarine

favorite food: lots of different street foods, tbh, but his favorites are probably takoyaki and taiyaki (particularly when filled with cheese laughs)

wants to get married / is married: is married! and very happy with that marriage

gotten pregnant / had a child: no

wants a child: it’s crossed his mind, but not with any real intent

likes children: probably. he’s never really interacted with them

can sing: i mean. again, he can probably carry a tune

play an instrument: i feel like he probably can. at least one thinking emoji

can dance: yes

gotten tattoos:

gotten piercings: ........i should give him his manga earring. it’s cute

smoked/drank/done drugs: has definitely had some alcohol in his life. also the catnip thing again

had a broken heart: not yet

been in love: yES

a cuddler: i’m. not sure

a kisser:

scared easily: not in the least, but it’s mostly bc he’s a gaddang pollyanna

jealous easily: not particularly. he’s a gregarious creature

hot/cool tempered: cool-tempered, but without natori’s aloofness so he most likely comes across more reasonably or genuinely

trustworthy: Absolutely

single: no

extroverted/introverted: like natoru, he’s adaptable. and like natori, i feel that he’s become quite practiced at playing the part of an extrovert, but perhaps with more genuineness

considered mean: ABSOLUTELY NOT

fears: saying goodbye to any of the familiar cats in his life, Abrupt Change, vehicles are a little iffy nowadays

siblings: none

parents: cat king (father). the previous cat queen was his grandmother (uh, not persephone)

pet(s): none atm, but probably had numerous ones throughout his childhood, including a rabbit which ‘ran away to the mountains (aka the ninth kingdom)’ at some point. according to natori, that is

nicknames: poppet, a long time ago

gender: male

age:

date of birth: unknown. tends to use the cat kingdom’s new year celebrations as an excuse to celebrate

origin of birth: see above

race/species: cat (oriental longhair)

spoken languages:

romantic/sexual preference: generally idles between homoromantic and demiromantic

occupation: royal advisor/assistant. on paper, he’s retired, but it’s never stopped him before

hobbies: keeping goldfish, music, cooking

criminal record:

disorders: none

eye color: coppery brown

height: close to the king’s height. i keep waffling back and forth on just which of them is taller

scars: none

birthmarks: it’s not necessarily a birthmark, but he does have some kind of marking on him Somewhere (x-files theme) it’s well-hidden by his clothing

overweight: no

underweight: no

favorite color: lavender

favorite food: fish

wants to get married / is married: He Doesn’t Know

gotten pregnant / had a child: no

wants a child: like natoru, he’s mostly content with his role as uncle/mentor

likes children: yes, tho he’s easily stressed by them lmao

can sing: y e s

play an instrument: i’m not really sure yet thinking emoji

can dance: yes

gotten tattoos:

gotten piercings: he would never

smoked/drank/done drugs: like the others, has definitely had a taste of alcohol fjfjkd;a

had a broken heart: yes

been in love: he’s not sure

a cuddler: generally Not

a kisser:

scared easily: his composure drops pretty quick lbr

jealous easily: a little. a teensy bit. okay it’s much more than a teensy bit

hot/cool tempered: cool-tempered, but, as mentioned above, with a very distinct aloof edge that probably often leads to him being perceived as unapproachable

trustworthy: .............it depends

single: yyyyyyye-- no? yes. no. nobody knows

extroverted/introverted: introverted, mostly, but he plays a very convincing extrovert

considered mean: not especially, but again. probably perceived by many as being difficult to approach

fears: they are Many and Varied and most of them connect either to the collapse of the cat kingdom or the human world in its entirety

siblings: manami, sachiko (younger sisters)

parents: EXTREMELY UNKNOWN......

pet(s): three goldfish

nicknames: lune calls her sweetie in the manga and it kills me every time i remember it

gender: female

age:

date of birth: march

origin of birth: see above

race/species: cat (...not sure what breed she might be thinking emoji)

spoken languages:

romantic/sexual preference: biromantic

occupation: queen of cat kingdom

hobbies: she hasn’t really spent the time trying out hobbies just yet. has gotten a little into butterflies and moths bc lune likes them. has her eye on a number of more artistic pastimes

criminal record:

disorders: none

eye color: a very pretty blue jfjf;a

height: pretty much the same exact height as lune tbh

scars: none

birthmarks: none

overweight: no

underweight: no

favorite color: plum/wine

favorite food: nikuman, pastries

wants to get married / is married: is married! and like lune, is also very happy with the setup laughs

gotten pregnant / had a child: no

wants a child: atm, not particularly

likes children: also like lune, she has very little experience interacting with them. at least, recently. but i can not see her Disliking children so. u know

can sing: probably

play an instrument: no

can dance: some dances, yes. i like the idea that lune is casually teaching her behind the scenes lmao

gotten tattoos:

gotten piercings: no

smoked/drank/done drugs: a. again, like all of these cats have probably had some alcohol lmao

had a broken heart: s. sort of

been in love: yes

a cuddler: next to the king, she’s probably second most amenable to being pet and held, but she’s not really the type to actively seek it out

a kisser:

scared easily: not particularly, but she’s definitely more wary than lune is

jealous easily: not too much

hot/cool tempered: definitely cool

trustworthy: generally

single: no

extroverted/introverted: definitely introverted, but she’s not awkward in most social interactions. she’s more awkward now than she used to be simply bc she’s still not entirely certain what to expect with her new position and clout

considered mean: definitely not, to the point that i headcanon those who don’t know her terribly well are sometimes surprised by how remote she can come across laughs

fears: somewhat insecure in her new position, a lot of her current fears come back to being ridiculed or making a fool of herself, damaging her reputation right off the bat so that no one will ever take her seriously, or that it will bleed into lune’s reputation, too rip

siblings: none

parents: unknown, however for this blog’s canon, she did spend some time as haru’s pet in the human world

pet(s): none. she’s still kinda baffled by the idea of cats having pets in the first place lmao

natori very hesitantly but cheerily introduces her to his goldfish and she isn’t sure what to say fjfjk;ea

yuki, to lune: i didn’t know cats could have pets lune: sure! i had a pet rabbit once yuki: yuki: what

#;dash games #long post #g o d this took me forever sorry #lots of headcanons and facts :v

5 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get Day 2 of Kinkmas with Fives/Miko, Miko gets interested in some toys after talking to Zahra about spicing up her and Fives sex lives, Fives overhears and buys a dildo for Miko so they can do a dp without a second person. - vickyships

Sure thing, buddy. Hiko... or Fiko.. Fucko... or whatever this ship’s name is needs more content.

btw this is 3k words wtf did I write this????

(Ao3)

Also, if you enjoyed my work, here’s Ko-fi link if you’d be so kind ❤️ .

=========

The blood in Hector's veins simultaneously froze and was set on fire when he heard one phrase he never thought he would hear from the mouth of his girlfriend. He knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping on her and Zahra's conversation, but he just wanted to know if there was something she'd like for Holidays this year. He did not expect to hear that.

The two letters, so simple and innocent, combined together made his ears ring as he understood the consequences of them.

- ...I so want to try DP with Hector...

He could hear the excitation in her voice, combined with Zahra's supportive giggling that sent shivers down his spine and forced him to move out of the spot, so that he wouldn't be caught. This was not how their trip to the mall was supposed to look like, he thought, wandering through the isles, while girls went their way. Or maybe Miko has arranged the situation so he could hear them?

But as he kept on walking aimlessly, the image of his naked girlfriend using some fancy sex toy mobilised him, and he ventured forward, even though he wasn't even sure if the their city had a sex shop, though if it did, it would be in this hellhole of consumerism.

And if the video games has taught him anything, is that one should always explore every nook and cranny of the area to find the loot. He had to use all of his skills and powers, as if he could cast a revealing spell, or one to help him find a way. His eyes scanned the multicoloured signs and names, searching for a name that would seem innocent and innocuous to the uninitiated, but would be obvious to the correct clientèle.

And then, he noticed it.

"The French Library"

Perfect name. So simple, yet effective at hiding in plain sight. Hector smiled, and with just a bit of nervousness, walked into the shop's front-end, masquerading like a book shop indeed.

- Uh, hi.

He asked the shopkeeper, trying to act naturally. Finding the place was one thing, but a second barrier of entry was the vernacular, the slang, the lingo. A correct passcode would lead him to another section of the shop, where he might find the precious, forbidden item he was looking for.

- Good afternoon, how may I help you? - a women just slightly older than him greeted him - Er, I am looking for... - he leaned against the counter - *Special* items... - Oh, would you like to pick-up the on-line order? - Er, no. - Hector corrected, straightening his pose - I mean *special*, special items.

She blinked.

- Those that tie to the er, nature of French love... - he noticed a curious look on her face, and frantically thought of any other euphemisms - Er, the, the ones that, are, of, eh, certain...

Sweat appeared on his forehead

- I mean... - he suddenly brightened - Baguettes! I would like to browse your baguette section!

The woman sighed.

- Sir, the sex-shop is that way.

She pointed him to the exit, and as Hector followed, he noticed a colourful, pink neon reading "Adult store" just on the other side of the isle.

- Oh, heh, uh, thanks! So-sorry for the, uh, well, everything.

He turned on the spot and rushed out of the shop, feeling the shopkeeper's eyes on his back. The woman sighed. She wasn't paid enough to deal with that.

===================

A few minutes later, as Hector walked into the mall's lobby, he was surprised by Miko jumping into his arms. He didn't have to ask to know where Zahra took her to; the smell of new perfume testers gave her away. But Miko's eyes grew wide when she spotted the small bag he was holding, and he needed to dodge her quick moves and skilled hands to take the gift bag out of her reach, as she frantically tried to get it.

- Gimmegimmegimmegimmegimme! - Come on, baby, you can open it at home. - he laughed, as Miko jumped up and down, growling at the Hector and the bag he was holding way above his head - But I got you exactly what you wanted...

Her angry expression suddenly soften, and she gasped, before closing her arms around his neck... Though she still tried to snatch the present from his hand, like and angry cat.

- Did-Did you really get it? - Well, it's time of giving, isn't it? - he looked into her glimmering eyes, cupped her cheek and kissed her, rendering her utterly defenceless, as she melted in his arms. - Well, I got something for you too. - she quickly recovered and pecked his cheek.

The two waved Zahra goodbye and eagerly walked towards the exit, putting on their gloves and scarves. Though the air was cold, there was little snow this year, making it an easy ride for Hector's used car. Less than ten minutes later Miko eagerly jumped from the car and ran up the stairs to their apartment.

A small one, overlooking a very noisy road, but still, one they could call theirs. As long as they pay rent on time, that is. Miko turned on the small Christmas tree, cut from two old motherboards, to which they soldered a set of LEDs to make it look more festive.

But Miko's eyes were even brighter than that, jumping in place as if she was an animation from a select screen of a fighting game. Hector rolled his eyes and handed her the curved package.

- Okay, you can open it early. But I guess we move to the, uh, bedroom.

By that he meant "to take a few steps deeper into their flat", to the bed right next to their impressive gaming station, one of the few things they have managed to snatch from Hinobi. Miko grabbed the gift and jumped onto the bed, dragging Hector with him.

- Okay, but how did you know what to get me? - Well, uh, I kinda, sorta, overheard what do you want it, so I thought... - OHMIGOSH THANK YOU! - she squealed - I mean, it was also on my publicly available wishlist, scanned by every single ad bot on the Internet, but hey, oldschool.

Miko threw her hands around his neck and kissed him, just before she started ripping the paper of the curved-shaped package to shreds. But as its contents became more and more apparent, the jubilant excitation in her eyes vanished, and when Miko lifted the doubled-sided dildo up, her face was filled with confusion and consternation.

- Hector? - she looked at her boyfriend, equally flabbergasted by her reaction - Er, what's that? - We-Well, you know... - he started explaining - And I *know* what that is - she clarified - But..., er, where- how- why?

She waved the dildo back and forth, as if seeing if it could transfmogrify into the present she expected.

- Well, you-you said you want to try DP, so, I thought...

Miko blinked. For a moment, their eyes connected, giving him a glimmer of hope that he did nothing wrong.

And then she exploded.

- DUAL PULSATION! - she erupted - THAT'S THE NAME OF THE NEW CONTROLLER! - Oh. - hector eyes widened - That-that makes more sense.

Miko sighed.

- Well, you are a man. Minus ten to Subtlety, I suppose... - Hey, I'm not that oblivious. - he protested - I thought that maybe, you know, I wasn't...

He shied away for a moment, catching her attention.

- You what? - I wasn't doing that well, and...

Next moment he was pushed to the bedsheets, as Miko peppered his face with kisses.

- Oh, you dummy. You tall, gorgeous, handsome dummy. - she smiled - I'd never think that.

She kissed his jawline and, as she continued her kisses, her hands started slowly undoing his shirt and jeans, and she let out a pleasant murmur when she felt his fingers on her skin.

- Mhm, it's a good thing we're already on the bed, we can try it out... - Well, yeah, what else-

Miko lifted her head up and shot him once more with a freezing stare.

- Cos I wanted to test the controller I thought my my boyfriend bought me! - she pointed to the TV screen on the wall. - Right, right, sorry... - That's minus twenty to Subtlety. Geez, that thing has been advertised everywhere! Six axis of motion control! Haptic triggers! Built-in microphone to insult mothers of your online opponents! And it can split into two, hence "I wanted to try it with you"! - she raised an eyebrow.

She waddled towards him, losing some of the clothes he has managed to unbuttoned.

- I still love you.

Miko cupped his face and sat in his laps, letting him take over. His arms closed behind her back and she gently flipped her to her back, fighting with her legs and hips that soon surrendered and automatically locked with his. One by one, articles of clothing landed on the small space next to their bed, until Hector gasped at the sight of her breasts, before diving between them.

The pleasant moan that escaped Miko's mouth, combined with her body's automatic impulse to arch gave him the familiar satisfaction, but not as big as the feeling of her fingers digging into his trousers.

- Come'ere...

Following her order, Hector rose above her, letting her undo his pants and free his cock in one, quick swoop. Soon, the same fingers that mercilessly tested the durability of every arcade machine known to man, delicately closed around his cock, shortly before her lips did the same, engulfing his head with a gentle kiss.

Two clumsy moves of his legs later his pants and trousers joined the pile on the ground, leaving him completely naked. Miko took the dildo and brought it next to her boyfriend's cock, eyeing both of them carefully.

- Modelled after yours? - she looked up, seeing a faint smile on his face, fighting with the overwhelming bliss of her caresses. - Come... come on, Miko... I'm not that big... - You're big enough for me.

She kissed him once more and reached to their night-stand for a pack of condoms.

- Now, we gotta put an extra armor on it... - Miko cooed, sliding a condom on one end of the dildo - And on your little warrior too...

When her fingers touched Hector's cock, she heard a soft whimpering, and when she looked up, she found her boyfriend giving her a begging frown, to which she only responded with an sigh.

- High Five, you have already given me one present, you don't want to give me another surprise one, do you?

She stressed out her words, drawing his sight to her underbelly, where she was dragging her finger. She could feel shivers on his skin, as her allusion this time reached him completely.

- Besides I'd have to wait nine months to actually get it, and we both know that pre-ordering SUUUUUCKS, and, well, we're not ready for it.

She took a quick glance at their small bedroom, from which they could pretty much see almost every other corner of their flat. A small pang of melancholy hit her, from which hector brought her back with another kiss.

- Don't worry, Miko, I'll gladly wait until we upgrade our rig.

He smiled and slid on the condom himself, right before he leaned between her legs to do one last thing.

- Come on, open that lootbox.

She giggled when she felt his fingers dance across her slit, as he taunted her, delaying her the pleasure. With his other hand on her thick thighs, he felt her impatience, as she tried to prevent her legs from thrashing against their bed, while hector kissed her through the fabric of her panties.

- High Fiiiive! - she roared, initially in annoyance, though her voice broke when his mouth touched her wet panties. - I don't know, maybe it will have better value when left in original packaging?

But Miko had enough. She grabbed the edges of her panties and straight ripped them apart, leaving Hector no choice but to dive into her wet, overflowing sex, to take the first lick of her arousing juices. His tongue lapped the eagerly, while his girlfriend narrated his progress with short moans and short jolts of her muscles.

Though Hector would love to feel the full force of her orgasm splashing against his face - which was only fair after he finished on hers so many times - he wanted to try the present, and so, while his lips caressed her folds, he brought the tip of the dildo to her butthole, first sending just a wave of warm air to eliminate the cold, alien feel.

Still Miko shivered when he pressed the tip of the rubber against her ass, and their eyes met, giving Hector a clear sign to follow. He pushed the fake cock further along, listening to the moan that escaped through Miko's throat. Knowing how delicate her other hole was, he was gently moving if\t back and forth, while his tongue licked her slit, though with each push, he slid it just a fraction of inch further, hearing the approval in her rising tone.

But at some point, Miko loudly announced it is time for what her present was supposed to be.

With her legs high in the air, resting on Five's shoulders, she grabbed the dildo, allowing herself to push it as far as she found it comfortable, while Hector lined up his cock with the entrance that overflowed with her juices and his saliva.

Another wordless nod, and the two began. As soon as Hector slipped himself inside her, Miko's legs tensed and curved, upon the presence of two cocks in her body. Hector was glad that they were doing it in the middle of the day; only so many times they could blame her moans on fans cooling overheating graphic cards...

- You okay, babe?

After the initial shock, Miko could only babble with parts of words, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue his gentle pushes. And with that, their bodies began rocking against each other, each push of Hector's also delicately impaled her on the fake dildo, and though the position would be otherwise slightly uncomfortable, Miko was on cloud nine, panting with her tongue stuck out, as the presence of twice as many lovers in her truly turned her brain to mush.

But she was conscious enough to demand more. Hector could feel her moving her ankles that would otherwise be kicking his butt to speed up, and he gladly fulfilled her wish, diving deeper into her, and letting her slide further onto his rubbery double.

With each thrust, Hector was pushing her limit further and further, until he embraced his dominant position and simply leaned over her, allowing his hip to simultaneously slam his cock inside her, and let the dildo fill her ass up. With last ounces of her strength, Miko, held onto to the rubbery cock, feeling as if she truly was sandwiched between two lover, missing the illusory Hector's breath and kisses on her neck, which he always left when he was taking her from behind.

And so when he leaned over her and placed a single kiss on her collarbone, Miko lost it, thrashing her body as double wave of orgasms rushed through her loins, much to hector surprise. He watched as his girlfriend melts in front of him, until she could move no more and let her arms and legs become limp, while her chest was rising up and down, in erratic, fashion.

- I take it that you enjoyed it?

She responded with a vaguely recognisable words, but she sobered up at once, when she realised that Hector hasn't joined her in post-orgasmic bliss.

- Oh, w-wait. You didn't... - Yeah, but don't worry...

Miko got onto her knees, which was easier said than done, with her legs wobbling. She discarded the used condom, grabbed a piece of paper to clean herself up after exploding orgasms, and faced the cock that supplied one half of her pleasure. But then, she put one more condom on the two-ended dildo, and slipped the rubber from Hector's cock to use it on the other end of her present.

- I want you in all holes.

And with that, Miko licked her lips, closed her eyes and took Hector into her mouth, while her hands aimed the two ends of the dildo to her two entrances,

They both knew that they won't last long. Hector was on his edge anyway, and Miko's sex and asshole were still quivering from recent orgasms, so any stimulation would drive her crazy. And indeed, as she bounced up and down onto the curvy piece of rubber, she would have been already howling with pleasure, if not for Hector's cock in her mouth.

Hector's watched as Miko's eyes widened and bulged under not one, two, but three stimuli. At the same time, she felt her holes contract around her new lover again, while a wave of Hector's cum flooded her mouth, giving her just a split of a second to take one last breath. His body shivered with hers, and ultimately, the over-stimulation forced her to bail out, letting last of Hector's climax cover her breasts, as she rolled to her back, once more thrashing from the amount of pleasure.

But this time, she had Hector's mouth and his kisses to soothe the fire that consumed her, and his pecks delivered in strategic places allowed her body and mind to return to Earth, especially when he gently cleaned her body with paper towels, peppering each inch of her skin with more kisses.

Soon, Miko was purring in satisfaction as her boyfriend made up for the gift mix-up with more of his tenderness, and she eagerly leaned up her butt against his member, to feel the familiar stiffness she felt when she cuddled with him before falling asleep.

- Mhm, I think I like that present of yours. - she turned her head to meet his tired eyes. - Glad I could fill your tastes.

He cupped her face and their lips met in a long, soothing kiss.

- And don't worry, I will get you the real controller. - Hector apologised - I shouldn't have been thinking just about.... you know, sex and all. - That's okay. - Miko moaned, nestling herself against his body - That controller has five different vibration modes, so I was going to bring it to the bedroom anyway.

Hector blinked.

- Wait, what. - Oh, yeah. It would have been a steal, since it would be a controller AND a vibrator. Best deal ever.

Hector gulped, as realisation dawned on him.

- A-And did you discuss it with Zahra...? - Ssh.

Miko put a finger over his mouth.

- Don't spoil what I got for you... And her.

============

A/N: "Dual Play" is based on name of "Dual Shock", a default PS controller, its shape is based on the "boomerang"/"banana"-like prototype of PS3 controller, and its duality is a nod to Joycons.

#hiko #fiko #lemon #Anonymous #aged-up characters and all that #hector nieves #Miko kubota #glitch techs #nautiscaraderfics #MikoFive #Fiko #Hecko #Miko Kubota #Hector Nieves

2 notes · View notes

asteraegis · 6 years ago

Text

reposting shit

so this is that 5010 word (i know) edawale smut i posted when i first made this blog. im mainly reposting it bc im too lazy to go through my own blog to find it again, just less typos hopefully (im sorta dyslexic [i move words around in sentences when reading, sometimes do the letter bs] so i have no idea tbh)

tags if you have the time to read this novel length thing: mlm, some fisting, some choking, set in their time period, some breathplay, use of alcohol?, a lot of shitty jokes, 69ing, rimjob haha, ade is kinda sadistic sometimes too lol, blowjob, some nipple play, deep throating, self facial, rawing sorry ed, very light bondage, i guess humiliation?, probably some other shit i dunno i really beat my brain’s dick for my otp mate

below cut as always

The azure ocean rocked the whale boat as Edward scanned the bloodied surface for his prey. His fingers wrapped around the harpoon tight, prepared to launch the spear. Sweat and sea water dripped from his brow and down the bridge of his nose, focused, listening.

An eruption about twenty meters away revealed an orca. Edward cocked his head to look at the dolphin. “There you are.”

He hurled the harpoon at the animal, impaling it through its broad mid-section. The orca writhed about a bit before eventually giving in and relaxing into death. Edward grinned, he and two of his crewmates hauling the load back to the Jackdaw where the rest of the crew pulled the catch aboard the deck and began preparing it. As for the captain, he climbed back onto his ship and entered his quarters.

In the dimly lit room, his quartermaster, Adewale, stood over a map of the Caribbean Sea. He turned when he heard the door shut, nodding at Edward as he approached.

“Good day, cap’n,” the quartermaster said, looking back at the map. “How was the hunt?”

“Fine, crew’s cutting up the damned beast now,” Edward leaned against the desk, reaching for a cotton rag to dry himself with before replacing his captain’s gear. “How goes the fleet?”

Adewale huffed. “Well, you are better than I thought you would be at this.”

The captain laughed. “You have little faith of me, don’t you, mate? I’m hurt,” He rubbed the rag about his blonde hair then draped it over his shoulders and leaned back in his velvet armchair, tugging on his boots. “Really, Ade, how am I doing?”

“You should have a few frigates coming in from the Mediterranean in a week or so. Judging by where you sent them, they will have a considerable haul aboard them,” Adewale rolled up the map. “Good work, cap’n.”

Edward pulled on his coat and stood. “Thanks, mate. Set a course for Inagua, then. We can sell that whale then collect the loot from the frigs. Give the crew a well-deserved rest while we’re at it.”

“Aye. I will let them know,” The two men left the cabin and came to the wheel. “Full sail, we are heading to Grand Inagua!”

Upon arriving at the hideout’s dock, the Jackdaw’s crew dumped the orca at the market, splitting up the gained coin amongst each other afore rejoicing at the tavern. The pirates shared a few bottles, a few songs, and a few dances. A shining sun began to paint the sky with pinks and lilacs and the brothel’s lanterns lit to counter the encroaching darkness. The whores filtering out the doors of the cathouse seemed to allure the sailors like a siren’s song and shortly the docks, the boardwalk, and the roads were crowded with debauchery ranging from teenager-like flirting to couples disappearing into shrubs for some time alone.

Edward’s sharp blue eyes gazed upon the cove from the mansion’s courtyard, refreshing himself with a pint of rum. Girlish giggling blended into the silent courtyard’s air, the corsair turning his head to get a look at the prostitutes approaching him. Two well-endowed women sashayed toward the captain, fiendish smirks on their painted faces. The blonde cad spun on his heels, eager to ‘join in the festivities’ like his men on the shore.

“Evening, ladies. Beautiful night, ain’t it?” he leered, taking a couple short steps toward the women.

“It really is quite lovely, captain Kenway,” one of the women sighed, moving her shoulders in such a way that a sleeve slipped, lighting up the Welshman’s eyes.

“As brilliant as the sky is, there is a bit of a chill in the air. Shall we take this inside?” His eyes glinted with sinful delight, matching that of the courtesans’ as they followed him up the steps to his estate.

As the aroused trio reached the doorway, they were halted by a pompous-faced Adewale. “What do we have here, cap’n?”

Edward flicked his eyes at his quartermaster then to the dames. “Well we—"

“You are working on two doses of scurvy? Edward, I just gained respect for you, do not give me a reason to lose it all,” Adewale snarled, setting his shoulders back and glowering at the three.

“I didn’t—”

“I need to have a private conversation with my captain about supplies on the ship and the fleet’s future endeavors,” he said, grabbing Edward’s arm, pulling him away from the women.

“But they—”

Adewale cut off Edward again. “And if you two need attention so badly, the jagabats down the hill are looking for your services, so Kenway is not necessary for what you two want. Go.”

The women pouted and rolled their eyes but subsequently obeyed the looming man and hurried down the path while Edward gawked at his friend and the girls, completely flabbergasted.

“What the hell was that for?” Edward grumbled after Adewale pushed him inside, shutting the door behind them.

“I grow tired of your childishness, Edward. Do you not know how to behave yourself?” Adewale said, dropping Edward’s arm.

“I can behave myself, mate, now would you just—” Edward went to open the door but Adewale’s arm blocked him. “—dammit, Ade! What’s so bloody important that it must be done now?”

Keeping his left arm on the door, Adewale clutched Edward’s necklace and dragged him close enough that they could feel each other’s hot breath on their skin. “Listen, you slut. You are a captain, start acting like one,” He released Edward, who stumbled to his original position. “I need you to be a better example for the crew.”

Edward sighed, defeated, knowing his ménage a trois was cancelled. “What do you need me for?”

The quartermaster eyed his captain, pleased that he finally gave in. “I need to discuss the fleet with you,” The men walked to Edward’s office in silence and Adewale laid assorted papers across the desk. Edward sat on the tabletop and took one of the documents in his hand. “I got word that two of your brigantines sailed recklessly to Bristol and were challenged by the royal navy. They were given no quarter and the lot were slaughtered.”

Edward swallowed. “I see.”

“I understand that Great Britain does contain great bounty, but the price of lives holds far more worth than any currency. Until the waters cool there, I ask you,” he leaned into the other man, catching his eyes in his own, “not to send any more of the men northbound.”

“Aye, I won’t, mate.”

“The Bahjohns have sent a few galleons to purge pirates in the area between Nassau and Havana, as told by these papers,” Adewale noted.

“Shite, that’s where Thatch and Kidd sail,” Edward shook his head and rested his chin in his hand. “Jaysus, we need to—”

“I have already sent word to Captain Thatch and Master Kidd, they will be fine,” Adewale rested his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Just, if you are unsure of a location, do not be afraid to call upon me for a second opinion.”

Edward nodded, watching Adewale’s hand slide off his shoulder. They looked away from each other and glanced about the room at Kenway’s treasures and paintings. The sun had set and moonlight trickled into the shadowy room. Candles spread about the space provided just enough visibility for the men’s faces to glow in fiery yellow light alongside the loot.

Adewale moved away from the desk. “It is getting late. I will leave you for the night—”

“Wait, Ade,” Edward grabbed his wrist and dropped to his feet off the table. “Stay a while. Those whores you scared off won’t be coming back. I’m not tired enough to sleep and, seeing as you cancelled my original plans, how ‘bout me and you share a bottle, aye?”

Adewale smiled. “Cap’n—”

Edward advanced toward him, creeping his hand from Ade’s wrist, up his arm, and to his shoulder. “Please, I insist.”

Chuckling, Adewale shook his head and rustled Edward’s flaxen hair. “You do not give up, do you?”

He sneered. “Glad you’re seeing it my way, mate. C’mon, there’s bottles on the bedroom table.”

The pirates strode to the next room, Edward taking it upon himself to uncork the first flagon. The men chatted, joked, bantered, and drank. They spoke about the years spent afore meeting each other and the adventures they’ve had plundering together. Eventually, the bottle ran out, Adewale tilting his head all the way back to check but to no avail. He frowned, rolling the flagon to the corner of the room with a few of the other ones.

“Damn. I’ll get another one, Ade,” Edward grumbled, standing up and walking over to get another drink.

At the table, he removed his overcoat, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Adewale took in Edward’s body, glancing up and down his shape, his loose leather vest letting his tattoos peek out from his clothes. As Adewale’s liquor-guided-gaze cascaded down Edward’s back, his curiosity got the best of him. Edward’s hips were sculpted like a woman’s giving him a near hourglass figure and a rear to match thanks to his thick, muscular thighs. Adewale watched his hips shift back and forth as Edward picked through half empty bottles, unaware that his partner could see him peeping in the reflection of the rum bottles’ glass. Kenway smirked, slowly turning with a bottle in hand.

“Enjoying the view, mate?” Edward teased.

Adewale blushed and rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “I—”

He let out a nasty laugh, swaggering back toward his friend. “Really, Ade, I’m chuffed,” Edward’s hand stroked Adewale’s clavicle to his lavaliere that he held between his fingers for a brief moment before laying his hand on the white silk of Ade’s undershirt, “and I’m eager to unleash that desire you’ve been hiding so well, mate.”

Adewale locked eyes with Edward’s, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a swig of the alcohol. A devilish glow overtook his eyes matching Edward’s sly grin. He jerked Edward’s face down to his own, pushing his lips to his captain’s, forcing the drink into his mouth, which Edward happily swallowed. Adewale began unclasping Edward’s vest and unraveling his sash, Kenway doing the same all the while taking a seat on the quartermaster’s lap.

Shirts astray, Adewale ran his fingers across Edward’s chest’s tattoos and Edward rubbed through the fabric of Ade’s pin striped pants. Adewale leaned back into the satin sheets, yanking Edward down on top of him. His calloused hands drifted down the captain’s side, clutching the white pants and peeling them off. Unsurprisingly, Edward was lacking trousers of any kind under the clothing.

“Hm, that would explain your… seamlessness,” Adewale joshed, placing both palms on the sailor’s bare ass, gripping the sun kissed flesh in his dark fingers.

“I hate being restricted,” Edward said with a cheeky grin. He tucked his hand into Adewale’s pants, squeezing his cock to push a moan through his teeth, “something you seem to be.”

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

“You’re holding back, Ade. I don’t want your gentle side, I know your strength, mate. If I wanted lightness, I’d’ve ushered you away and done myself on the chaise.”

Adewale rolled his eyes then flashed a filthy grin. “As you wish.”

In a second, Adewale shoved Edward’s head down to his groin, unclasping his pants and drawers. His umber cock billowed out of the underwear, like an escapee fresh out of a gibbet. Edward couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth betray his cool attitude, turning upwards in a purse-proud manner. Finally, he thought.

The quartermaster took a fistful of Edward’s sandy hair and yanked him forward, his cheek rubbing his cock with the blonde scruff. Edward moved his right hand up to caress Adewale’s shaft, a gross smirk lining his face.

“Your definition of rough is to hold my face near your crotch?” he taunted, his fingers sliding up and down the veiny mast. “Mate, I never took you to be a milksop but—”

“Move your fingers,” Adewale commanded.

“What? You don’t even want me to touch y—”

The second Edward’s hand moved Ade wrenched Edward’s mouth down his girth and to the base of his dick. The motion was so swift it caught the usually cunning and bombastic sailor off guard. Edward almost choked with the head deep in the back of his throat, releasing a yelp-like moan from between his lips and Adewale’s skin.

Adewale shot a toothy grin at Edward when he peered upwards like some guilty dog. “Ah, peace and quiet.”

Edward moaned in annoyance at Ade’s words, making him cackle and continue mocking his captain as he held Edward’s head to pull his lips back and forth across his foreskin.

“Look at you, not so proud anymore,” he crowed. “To think, someone as stubborn and headstrong as you just needed something in your mouth to quit your griping,” Adewale smacked Edward’s ass, making him let out a muffled grunt. “Arch your back.”

Not exactly happy about Adewale’s new, sadistic attitude—even though he did ask for it—but still curious to what his friend was capable of, Edward followed his demand. He stretched his back, pushing his chest into the mattress and his hips into the air. Adewale took Edward’s hands behind him, holding them against Edward’s spine with one palm and tying them using his bandana with the other. Ade then spat into his left hand and began working the pirate’s perked ass, sliding his moist middle and ring finger into Edward. He half-purred upon the finger’s entrance, pushing back against Adewale’s knuckles and trying to take his mouth off Ade’s shaft to catch his breath.

Adewale grinned smugly, keeping Edward breathless by controlling him like a puppet, holding the back of his head by his hair, slowly stroking his head back and forth across his cock. He pressed his fingers in deeper, Edward’s bound hands itching to rub himself empty.

“Captain, does this really tickle your fancy that much? I have not even touched your cock, y’know, and yet,” he stuffed his other two fingers inside Edward, making him groan frustratedly and dig his nails into his palms, “you are hard as rock and squeezing my fingers.”

Edward felt his cheeks turn hot, half opening his eyes and watching Adewale. He writhed his trussed wrists and whimpered, grinding his ass against Adewale’s fist, wanting to take it deeper and not caring about admitting it. The quartermaster pulled his dick out of Edward’s mouth, Edward panting lightly with drool dripping down his chin. Adewale took his fingers out of his friend then shoved Edward down onto the puffy sheets of the bed.

On his back with his arms still locked behind him, Edward bit his lip to stifle a yelp from the strain on his shoulders and elbows. Not completely heartless, Ade moved Edward’s hands to above his head so he could lay more comfortably, spread eagle in front of his best mate. Adewale caressed Edward’s tip expertly between his left thumb and fingers, leaning in to whisper in his ear:

“Are you still certain you wish to do this, Kenway? It is not the booze, right?” he asked, his warm breath tickling Edward’s ears.

Edward smiled. “How gentlemanly of you, Ade!” He cocked his head to stare into Adewale’s eyes. “Fuck me.”

Adewale smiled warmly before kissing him, still keeping his fingers steadily caressing his friend. Impatient as he is, Edward bit Ade’s lip, causing his mouth to open. Edward slipped his tongue into Adewale’s mouth, rubbing his knee against Ade’s groin. He pulled at the cloth binding his wrists, trying to loosen the grip so he could properly embrace his quartermaster, but, alas, he wasn’t getting off that easily.

Adewale shifted away from Edward to kiss his neck, slowly trailing down his body to kiss his clavicle, his chest, his naval, and finally—

“Wait, are you actually going to blow me?!” Edward gasped, writhing about, trying his best to sit up while Ade’s unused hand held him down.

He chuckled slyly, shaking his head. “I have other plans, cap’n.”

He lifted Edward’s legs over his head, pushing him into a contorted arch shape, Ade beginning to jerk himself off. He kneeled behind Edward, his dick brushing against Kenway’s ass. Edward looked nervously at Adewale, noticing that he was now in the position to be staring down the barrel of his own cock. Adewale grabbed Edward’s ass, grinding himself against his rump, switching his hand to jerk off Edward.

Seeing that he was increasingly becoming more aroused, blood rushing both to his pelvis and his head from being half upside down, Edward braced himself, knowing it was going to be messy.

Edward gulped, struggling to look Adewale in the eye. “Ah—Ade, I’m gonna come.”

His hips bucked and his toes curled, shutting his eyes and biting his lip as he came, his cum dripping down his chest and sticking to his face in warm, white strings.

Chagrined, he hesitated to look at Adewale. Cumming on yourself isn’t exactly a way to avoid humiliation, especially when your partner’s barely done anything yet. Nevertheless, he opened his eyes, surprised to see Adewale scowling at him.

“Truly, cap’n, I thought you would have more endurance than this,” he groused, shaking Edward’s legs off of him. Ade grabbed his throat to hold him, Edward’s rear resting over his lap, his back arching away from the mattress. Adewale leaned in, swiping his fingers over Edward’s cum then putting them in Kenway’s mouth. “It’s pathetic, really, sir.”

The captain spit Adewale’s fingers out of his mouth and choked out, “Let’s see how you do, mate.”

“Gladly.”

Adewale stuffed his cock into Edward forcefully, making him moan loudly and send shivers through his nerves. Ade pushed his tip deep inside him, still keeping his grip strong on Edward’s neck as he thrusted almost completely out of Edward before slamming back in. Adewale moved his hands onto Edward’s shoulders, pressing him into the bed while his legs wrapped around Ade’s back. The constant ruthless motion started pissing Edward off. How the hell had he not come yet? It’s like Adewale was drugged, he wasn’t slowing down anytime soon, so the captain decided to finally set a pace.

“Fucking cunt,” Edward grumbled through gritted teeth, flexing himself to squeeze Adewale, wriggling his hands out of the bandana and pulling Adewale down against him.

Edward clawed his brawny shoulder blades, kissing Adewale and holding him close. A groan rolled out of Ade’s throat as he came in Edward. When their lips parted, the captain was beaming.

“Ha!” he said, flashing an arrogant smile.

“This ain’t a competition, Edward,” Adewale huffed, rolling his eyes. “Now flip over, captain.”

Edward laughed but otherwise obeyed, resting on his hands and knees, arching his back to emphasize his shape. “What trick do ya got now, mate? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been in this position.”

“Like I need to hear about your days as a punk right now, Kenway.”

“Aw, you afraid I’ve had it better? Mate, are you feeling inferior?”

“Shut the hell up, jagabat.”

“Make me.”

Adewale pushed Edward’s face into the pillows, sliding his cock into him again. He fed Edward’s ass long, deep strokes, keeping him short of breath smothered in the sheets. Being a diver, it took a lot to get Kenway squirming, but with the combined lack of air and thrusting he was soon writhing and trying to persuade Adewale to loosen up his death grip by grinding his ass against him. He started seeing stars, hitting the bed with his fists and trying to break free of his grip. When Edward’s struggling started dying out, Adewale finally released his grip, the blonde flipping his head to gasp for air, coughing, his ribcage heaving to take in as much as possible. He flinched when Ade placed his hands on his neck, purring, however, when Adewale began rubbing his shoulders soothingly, slowing his pace while he leaned down to kiss Edward’s neck. Edward clutched the sheets tightly, breathing heavily, Adewale touching his chest to his back. He bit his captain’s shoulder, making him moan and curl his fingers, reaching around to rub Adewale’s neck.

Adewale made is way to Edward’s erection, stroking him tentatively, still kissing him. Edward bit his lip, his breath at last caught, giggling like a school girl when his corner gaze met Ade’s.

“What is so funny, Edward?” Adewale asked, stopping briefly.

“I… I can’t believe how good you are at this, Ade,” he grinned, “Really, is there anything you’re bad at, mate?”

“Probably,” he said, going back to work on Edward.

“Mm… Great, you’re humble, too,” Edward said, his cock trembling like his fingertips.

Adewale stopped his smooching to nip at Edward’s skin again. Edward felt himself flush red, his heart beat quickening as he came once more, this time into his friend’s hand. He compressed Ade as he came, making Adewale embrace Edward as he came. Edward took the hand he came into and sucked on the fingers as he flipped onto his back when Adewale pulled out.

“God, you are nasty, Edward,” Adewale grimaced, taking his fingers out of Kenway’s mouth.

“Wha—? You made me do the same thing earlier, mate!” Edward pulled Adewale back on top of him. “What the hell’s the difference?”

“You did it twice, breddah, that is the difference,” he replied.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

The two kissed, Ade clutching Edward as he rolled over, making him lay on top of him. He rubbed Edward’s lower back after the kiss, Edward nuzzling his head under Ade’s chin, listening to him breathe softly. His heart beat lulled the captain to sleep, his gentle hand soothing Edward’s sore back. Adewale settled his back into the mattress, softening his breathing as he too closed his eyes and drifted off.

Daylight trickled through the tall dusty windows, creating bright shapes on the men’s sleeping bodies. The glow shone over their eyes as tropical birds chirped outside, stirring Adewale from his sleep. He groaned, rubbing his eyes in his palms and looked down at the dreaming Edward. He smiled at the sight of the calm captain, brushing his locks from his face. Edward shifted slightly on Ade’s chest before opening his eyes, yawning, then grinning at him.

Edward put his head on his hands and sighed. “G’mornin’, Ade.”

“How are you feeling, Edward?” he asked.

“Heh, a little sore, but that’s nothing new,” Edward sat up and stretched his arms, sitting on Ade’s lap, mind you they were both still nude. “Honestly, mate, I feel I could go again.”

Adewale raised a brow as Edward rocked back over his groin. “Are… are you trying to set the mood again, cap’n?”

Edward simply smirked and shrugged, winking at him with his devious, icy eyes. “How ‘bout it?”

“It’s dawn, cap’n, the crew will be coming up here soon enough—”

“With the hangovers they gave themselves last night? We’ll be lucky if they show up before noon,” Edward let his hands explore Ade’s scarred torso before climbing to his neck, “and ‘sides, I told them last night to unload the frigates as soon as they arrive. We’ve time aplenty.”

“No, we do not, Edward,” Adewale removed Edward’s hands from his shoulders, holding him by the wrists. “They will see us if we start again.”

“Good for them.”

“Edward.”

“What if we closed the curtains, hm? And closed the door? And, if us not having time is what is bothering you, maybe we could switch positions, eh? We already learned, after all, that you last far longer than I do, mate,” Edward let Adewale hold his wrists while he desperately tried reasoning with him. “Or, I could ride you, or I could just suck you off again.”

The quartermaster shook his head. “Really, Edward? Are you in heat?”

Edward laughed. “No, I just like satisfaction and I know, mate, that we won’t get an opportunity like this once we’re on deck.”

“You have the captain’s quarters, Edward, we could do it in there.”

“On a dusty old desk? With creaky doors to keep back any noise? Ade, I’d rather a shark bite my cock off,” he grumbled.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Aye.”

Adewale tossed the idea around in his head of what Edward had said. “Fine, close the curtains. And the door. I do not want to do much so if you are riding me make it quick.”

Edward’s eyes lit up. “Oh, believe me, after yesterday I will be fast.”

“Charming.”

The captain immediately went to work, shutting the door and curtains, then returning to the bed to give Ade a hand job while kissing his clavicle. Edward let his free hand glide over Adewale’s bare chest, eventually stopping to pinch his nipples, making the larger man grunt. He blew in Edward’s ear, making him flinch, caressing the small of Edward’s back when Kenway moved down to suck Ade’s nipple. Adewale winced when Edward bit him but soon the pain faded to pleasure, his blood feeling like it was swirling in his body.

Ade gazed down at Edward, whose back arched, putting his rump on full display. He watched his body move in a lustful motion, eager to please, making gentle noises that almost came across as delight. Edward pulled back, going to blow Adewale instead of playing with his chest, but Adewale stopped him.

“Rot, what is it now, mate?” Edward growled, glaring up at him.

“I want you on top of me,” he replied.

This took Edward off guard. “You what?”

“I want you above me. I want us both to experience this, together.”

Stunned but nevertheless overjoyed, Edward clambered over Adewale, swinging his left leg to the other side of Ade’s neck. Kenway let his head hang down to look at his friend under him. He grinned, his blonde hair framing his face.

“How’s this, mate?” he asked.

“Almost,” Adewale yanked Edward’s pelvis down so his round ass was truly in full view, “perfect.”

Edward blinked in disbelief as the quartermaster put his tongue to his pink ring, teasing the skin between it and Edward’s scrotum with his left thumb, the right thumb stroking the soft ring’s skin. Kenway rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “And you said I was nasty.”

Regardless, Edward still put his lips to Adewale’s tip, pressing his tongue around the head’s rim. He slid his mouth down the shaft, the engorged cock reaching deep into the back of his throat. Edward groaned past the mouthful, feeling Ade twitching in his jaws, his own member getting excited from his lower half being toyed with. As for Adewale, he, too, was becoming increasingly turned on, holding Edward’s lower back with his forearm while still eating out his captain. He raised his hips slightly as to not choke Edward but still force him to take it further.

The two men began breathing heavier, moaning passionately as they came near coming. Edward made sure his mouth was around Adewale’s cock as to control the mess. Ade gripped Edward’s thighs as he came, his captain swallowing the milky liquid as it sprayed itself throughout his mouth. Edward pulled his mouth away from Adewale’s dick, making a victorious sucking noise that rattled the quartermaster’s ears. It irritated him, the sound more obnoxious from this angle. He moved his face away from licking him, driving his fingers into his wet ass to stroke Edward’s prostate. Edward moaned loudly, his elbows giving way, his hips bucking and his cock shooting white ropes onto Adewale’s chest to contrast his dark skin.

Adewale shoved Edward off of him to the side. “Are you satisfied now, cap’n?”

“Not quite, mate, I think the least I can do for you is clean up your chest,” Edward smiled.

He leaned over Ade, licking his chest free of the splatter. When he was done, Adewale shook his head. “Well, I have learned what your favorite ‘sauce’ is.”

“What? It came out of my body, mate.”

Edward sat on the edge of the bed, Adewale smacking his back after his last remark. Ade joined him, kissing him on the cheek then resting his head against Edward’s.

“I love ya, Ade,” Edward sighed with his eyes half shut.

“Feeling is mutual, cap’n,” Adewale said softly. The two stayed leaning against each other for a good while afore standing up. “Come on, I think we should get dressed now.”

“Aye, agreed.”

After they pulled on their pants and boots, footsteps were heard thumping across the hardwood floor. There was a single knock before two inferior crew members swung open the bedroom door.

“Capt—ah! You’re both here! Why?” one of the men asked with a furrowed brow, looking the shirtless men up and down.

Edward and Adewale made brief, nervous eye contact then Edward stated, “Well, last night Ade showed me how a blunderbuss worked and it was too late for him to head to the guest house so we slept in the same bed.”

“You… both laid in… the same bed?” one questioned.

Adewale huffed. “What, you think this bed is unreasonable for two men to sleep in?”

“The bed’s huge, lads,” Edward pointed out, ignoring the fact that last night they slept on each other.

“Ah, uh! Sorry, sirs!” the flustered sailors apologized. “We just came to let ye know we unloaded the frigates and are waitin’ for your word for what to do with the cargo.”

“Hmm, shall we, mate?” Edward grinned, looking to Ade.

Adewale nodded, pulling on his shirt and vest. “Aye. Let us go.”

The two crewmen led their superiors out of the estate. Just out of earshot, Adewale slapped Kenway’s ass hard. The captain turned, smirking, but shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Still enjoying the view, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ade smiled cheekily. “Still against the idea of sex in the quarters?”

Edward chuckled then winked. “We’ll see.”

#what did you think i was joking #this is 11 pages in word #edward #adewale #edawale #ac4 #assassins creed #i dont fucking care anymore bro #im reposting this so i can read it in class #i write #i talk #its 1:23am #cool numbers #if something in this seemed like a pun it was #especially the getting off that easily #im especially proud of that one lol

4 notes · View notes

kariachi · 7 years ago

Text

For a moment I wondered why Kevin’s sections are always longer than Argit’s in this au, then I remembered that Argit’s generally have fewer people involved and less going on...

Chapter 6, now with fashion and family time.

They were a few months out from the big day and Argit was done. The constant back and forth that came with trying to plan a wedding he’d love without actually involving him in the planning, he could handle. The feeling like he was arguing with a stranger third-hand and from the other side of the galaxy, he could handle. But when his father had sent someone in to get his measurements so new clothes could be made?

As someone who’d been making his own for what felt like forever he was just not having it.

He’d finally taken control of the situation- dumping the bureaucratic work on his father’s desk with no fanfare, foisting the final stages of wedding planning onto Psyphon, cutting his siblings’ snickers down by assigning them the most menial work he could think of at the time- and given himself a job he actually enjoyed. Ever since he’d hardly left his rooms, locked away with all the fabric, sewing supplies, and inspiring pieces he could dream of. It was relaxing work, the most troubling bit was deciding what pattern to go for in the deep greys and purples he’d settled on, and was mostly working to keep his mind off just how fast time was going.

The more time he spent considering it the more nervous he got, the more he ate, the more grateful he was that he’d already adjusted his patterns to a few sizes larger than normal.

It was becoming more and more clear with time that he had no idea what he was doing or what to expect. Not only that, but that none of the people he’d have felt comfortable discussing this with had any idea either. He was going to be the first one married and the only person he knew who’d had truly serious relationships was his father, who wasn’t an option for obvious, ‘I have five kids by four women who skipped out’-shaped reasons. He didn’t know how to have a relationship, how to get to know someone, what was expected of him in a marriage. As time had gone on he’d found himself spending more and more of his free time looking up everything from Osmosians to humans to marriage advice to housing because apparently setting up a house together was a thing you were supposed to do maybe? Sorta? Kinda?

Anymore if he wasn’t working on his clothes (and his father’s clothes, and his siblings’ clothes, and Psyphon’s clothes-) he was probably on the ethernet going cross-eyed with his researching. Generally accompanied by at least one pie.

Pupating came with a lot of changes, mental and physical, ones that couldn’t be properly predicted for hybrids. There was endless variance there. Which meant not only that they hadn’t been able to do any planning involving Kevin’s looks before he broke free, but that as soon as he’d adjusted enough to the new body to stand and speak his family had converged on him like vultures on a dead buffalo.

“Dress or pants?”

“Whichever’s cool.”

“…we’ll get both made, you can choose on the day.”

Kevin was only really half paying attention to everything. There was a full-length mirror right there and while he wasn’t a vain man between dysphoria and oncoming maturity his adolescent mimicry had felt wrongwrongwrong. Not that things were perfect now by a long shot, but people kept having to drag him back into position as he twisted and turned to admire things like his mane and finally flat chest.

“Straight and relaxed, gyadin,” his gran said with a sharp tug on his mane and he immediately complied, drawing snickers from the rest of his little entourage.

“Yes, memu.” He felt as much as heard the pleased rumble she made as she returned to measuring the base of his tail.

“You know, if we can get this measuring done in time to make you clothes, you’re going to look wonderful. Just like your father.”

“He looks more like you,” his mother countered, fiddling with his hair same as she had been the last fifteen minutes, “Devin was narrower across, pretty much everything really.”

“He’s got Dad’s colors though,” Cody said. He’d been going through a thick pile of fabric swatches for the entire time he’d been there, occasionally whistling for the opinion of Vivi, sat on the floor across from him. Near as Kevin could tell she was trying to figure out some beadwork designs combining the maternal heritages she was part of and the paternal she hardly knew, and Cody was helping her as much as she was him. Finally, he held up swatches of rich blue and golden-yellow that stood in bold contrast to Kevin’s dark adult scales. “What do you think?”

“Gorgeous,” Kevin’s mother said before he could open his mouth. His grandmother got to her feet and smiled brightly down at the selection from over his shoulder.

“And fitting,” she said, turning her smile between him and Cody, “they’re a good enough match for some of your enku’s pack’s traditional colors.”

“So,” Kevin cut in, “I take it I don’t get a say in colors anymore?”

“No.”

“Some advice, little brother,” Cody said, smiling in bemusement, “just roll with it until you’re married, then blame everything on your husband. They can’t pull rank there.” Both older women gave him a critical look.

“Kafan, remind me to talk to Regina about double-checking with Mala?”

“Gladly.” Huffing, the old Osmosian turned Kevin to face her, looking him over. “Do you want some real married advice?” For a split second he wanted to say no, he was fine, but then remembered that he was going to be married in two months and had to lock his knees to stay up straight. Fuck, yeah, he had no idea what he was doing, why had he not got this worrying done sooner?

“That’d be nice, yeah.” Her expression softened back to a smile and she gave him a quick kiss.

“When he’s a dumbass,” she said, “and trust me he will be, all men are-”

“Memu.”

“As your brother proves, giving out his tactics in public.” Again Vivi was snickering. “When he’s a dumbass, give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s plenty of times he’ll do something that upsets you without realizing.”

“Just don’t let him get away with it too much,” Cody added. “He gets three chances for every bullshit thing you correct him on and if he fails you tell us, we’ll bring you and whatever you want right back home.” Kevin chuckled.

“Including the house?” Setting down her designs, Vivi rolled her eyes.

“Kevin, even Sid would dig up a house and move it across the galaxy for you, if just to spite anyone who hurt you. Anyway,” she then said, bringing her attention back to the sketches, “my advice? Don’t be afraid to walk away from a fight and come back later when you’re calmer.”

“Also,” Cody said, “just, be nice. Compliments, gratitude, being respectful.” He gave a bit of a wistful sigh. “The easier and more pleasant you two make things for each other, the happier your home will be and the sooner things will start really working for you.” Kevin nodded along, soaking in the information. Vivi was a wildcard, but Cody was over ten years wed and their grandparents had been married longer than the US had been a country, and he trusted all of them.

“Good advice, all around,” his mother finally said, “but I’ve got more important.” Gently she turned him 180 degrees to face her. “Learn from my mistakes and communicate. Talk about everything, tell him how you feel about everything, any struggles you’re having, any hopes you have, things you want, and encourage him to do the same.” Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a finger for silence. “I know this is something you have trouble with, because of all the things you had to get from me that was it, but trust me. There’s so much trouble and pain you can avoid if you just talk to your partner. Alright?”

The breath Kevin took was shaky. Everyone knew why, why this was the advice she was giving, and the silence in the room was palpable. With another, steadying breath Kevin nodded.

“Alright. Thanks mom.” You could see the tension wash off his mother’s shoulders as the two of them smiled at each other. Her gaze went soft and nostalgic as she finally took the time to step back and just look at him, before diving forward to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest. It was with a watery smile of his own and a surprised delicacy (fuck, he hadn’t realized until that moment how much bigger than his human relatives he was now…) that he returned the gesture.

“Look at this,” she said with a watery laugh, “my baby’s all grown up.”

#fanfic

3 notes · View notes

greenishbucket · 7 years ago

Text

a little sweetness

Lardo gives herself a firm, bracing kind of look in the hallway mirror. Sure, your girlfriend is hot, but you can keep it together for a few hours, dude.

FordLardo, 2.3k, also on ao3

When Ford comes down the stairs, all dressed up for Lardo’s new kinda-exhibition-like-she-has-a-sorta-section-in-it-stop-giving-me-fucking-noogies-Shits, it’s so most cliché teen movie prom moment Lardo would be embarrassed if she wasn’t busy melting.

Lardo is used to the Ford she sees every day now; the Ford in her cute preppy sweaters over a patterned collard shirt, in her rolled-hem mom jeans and sneakers, in her threadbare pj bottoms and ratty souvenir shirt from a summer camp in middle school. The Ford that once reached out without asking and used Lardo’s shirt to clean her glasses – mid-conversation, in public – because it was the best material to hand.

And Lardo loves that Ford, sometimes so much she feels stupid and dizzy with it, but holy shit. The Ford making her way down the stairs has the power to make the hallway of their kinda shitty rented closet of a place look fucking radiant and has Lardo just about swallowing her tongue because that’s her legit actual girlfriend and she is so hot holy fuck.

It’s a shorter dress, and more– risqué than Ford usually goes for: two wide strips of fabric wrap across at the torso to cover her boobs, leaving gaps at the sides of the dress, at the front and back. It’s doing amazing things for Ford’s everything. Lardo wants to write to its designer and thank them personally.

“Tell me I’m not overdressed,” says Ford when she reaches Lardo at the bottom of the stairs. She twists her foot out to look sceptically at her heels, which are a demure three inches but a bright minty green to match her dress. “I can change in, like, ten minutes. Be honest with me.”

Lardo doesn’t reply with just a gurgle, but it’s a close thing. “You look legit stunning, bro,” she says, and she really deserves an award for her restraint in not saying fuck this whole show, please come the fuck to bed with me right now sweet Jesus. Lardo isn’t sure if she’s ever noticed before how much she appreciates the shape of Ford’s calves, but suddenly it’s all she can do not to get on her knees and just– touch. Let her hand rest on the curve, appreciate the strength of muscle under smooth skin, maybe just press her lips to–

It’s been a busy couple of weeks building up to this exhibition, and both of them have enough on their plates at the best of times. There hasn’t been a lot of room to squeeze sex into the agenda and suddenly that seems like the most massive of all oversights.

Ford is smiling when she says, pleased and teasing and not at all like Lardo sounds, fuck off, “For real, bro?” and it’s just a lot. Ford’s smile, and the twinkle in her eye, and Lardo’s chest twisting with an awkward mix of love and arousal.

“For real,” says Lardo, probs a little too fervent. God, she needs to pull it together for the exhibition. Keep it chill. “I’m gonna win the award for best arm candy.”

Ford looks Lardo up and down pointedly, appreciatively, and strokes her hands up and down Lardo’s arms a little in her best attempt at sultry, which Lardo can admit is pretty good; her heart is beating double time. “Not if I win it first.” And then, because she’s a sap, Ford grins all soppy and the tension snaps as she adds, “God, Lards, you just look so beautiful and smart and your art is gonna rock it and I’m so proud of you.”

Ford leans in for a kiss – kept to a peck as much as Lardo would like to deepen it – and for a second it’s disorientating, the way Lardo has to go up on her toes a little to meet her because of the heels. Lardo is sticking to flats; no fucking way is she dealing with the stress of networking with art connoisseurs in high heels. She’s so turned around already, with the anxiety-excitement of the exhibition and now all flustered with Ford being sweet and hot and supportive and hot.

“Ready to go?” she asks, stepping back to force herself into a more professional headspace.

“Let me go grab my purse.”

Lardo gives herself a firm, bracing kind of look in the hallway mirror. Sure, your girlfriend is hot, but you can keep it together for a few hours, dude. Mirror-Lardo looks doubtfully back.

---

A little over an hour in, Lardo has drunk a fair few of the flutes of alcohol that have been going round, but she’s also eaten like a bazillion of the little hors d'oeuvres from the assorted silver plates. She doesn’t want to get sloppy. This gallery is, like, legit; Lardo loves art, has and is willing to make sacrifices for it, but at the same time she doesn’t want to be an actual starving artist forever so she needs to be on this.

And it’s fine. She’s used to this kind of glad-handing, networking, nice-talking business, and she’s even got kinda good at it with enough practice. People seem to be feeling her art, too, and that’s a pretty fucking amazing feeling, enough of a boost that the artificialness of all the interactions is barely even grating.

It’s just that she keeps seeing Ford across the room, moving easily from group to group with a glass in hand, doing half of Lardo’s networking for her. And it’s a lot. She’s almost glad that the squad picked the more public, educational, and far cheaper exhibition event to attend in a couple of weeks because she can’t imagine the kind of chirping that would be going on if they could see her now.

Ford’s thrown on a cardigan, but it hasn’t made any difference. Lardo wants to put her hands on Ford’s waist, against her stomach, where the cut of the fabric reveals bare skin. She almost misses someone probably important asking her a question, too busy watching the way the skirt of the dress moves around Ford’s thighs.

It’s ridiculous, and Lardo keeps fiddling with her lucky necklace to have some kind of outlet for the fidgety, prickly heat. Ford catches her eye across the room periodically, and it’s probably just to check she’s doing okay like Ford likes to do, but Lardo is so worked up that she can’t help reading more into it. Each look – and surely that’s Ford giving her a look, right? Lardo’s seen it enough times, it can’t just be a trick of Ford’s glasses – winds the heat in her stomach up tighter and tighter.

And so when she bumps into Ford in the narrow hallway the leads to the toilets some time later, and Ford gives her what is definitely a look, Lardo thinks she can hardly be blamed when twenty seconds later they’re making out against the wall like they’re at a college frat party.

When they pull apart for air, Lardo can feel her pulse pounding in her neck and her make up is probably already on a slippery slope to ruined. She’s got the chain of Ford’s necklace between two fingers, and as she catches her breath she looks down at the way the pendant rests comfortably in Ford’s cleavage. Huh.

“You’re the worst,” Lardo tells her because suddenly it’s all falling into place.

“What?”

“The worst. I can’t believe you, you dick.”

Ford’s smile is unapologetic. “It worked though, didn’t it?”

“Duh,” says Lardo, because Ford is one of the most attractive people she’s ever seen even in her PJs with toothpaste on her face; Ford making a concerted effort to be attractive never left Lardo with a chance. “Ugh, I’m supposed to be networking and shit.”

“Am I stopping you?” Ford asks, even as her hand rests distractingly on Lardo’s back and her body presses distractingly close against Lardo’s.

Lardo figures she’s talked to enough people that they can probably take a little more time before they need to get back, and no one’s come down the corridor yet. She leans in to kiss Ford again, a little slower than the frantic pace they had been going at before but no less intense for it. Lardo can feel the hairs on her arms standing on end as Ford moves to kiss along Lardo’s jaw and down her neck and she knows they have to keep it together, not let it go too far, but dear God.

Lardo needs to do something, feeling slowed down and foggy-headed when Ford sucks against her collar bone just so, her hands needlessly holding Ford in place. From the way Ford is moving against her just a little, and the sound she makes in response to the tiny noise Lardo lets out when Ford presses a feather-light kiss to the probably-soon-to-be-hickey, Ford is having as much of a blast as Lardo is but still.

She lets her hands wander a little, down Ford’s back and along the curve of her hip and the swell of her ass, to rest over her skirt just below the top her thigh. She runs her fingers back and forth, more of a suggestion than anything, and Ford gasps, hitching, mouth lifting away from Lardo’s neck as she presses herself firmer against Lardo. “Oh, shit.”

Lardo reaches under Ford’s skirt, feeling the warmth of bare skin and skimming along the elastic of her underwear. The ones she’s wearing are cotton, the kind she wears every other day of the week and Lardo has bunged into the washing machine a thousand times, and the contrast with the rest of the swankiness has Lardo’s mouth dry.

Ford is starting to wriggle under Lardo’s hands, whining a little when Lardo doesn’t move her fingers any further. “Pleasepleaseplease, Lards, come on.”

Lardo moves her hand to press against Ford’s clit through her underwear and she can feel how wet Ford is already, the fabric a little damp and a lot warm under her fingers. She rests her forehead against Ford’s shoulder for a second, trying to think sensibly. They should stop.

Ford whispers against Lardo’s ear, “I brought the vibrator in my purse.”

Lardo is pretty sure her brain collapses in on itself for a solid four seconds and she pulls back to see Ford’s expression. “Are you fucking with me?”

Ford holds her gaze, eyes dark, and Lardo could pretty much implode in that moment.

“I’m fucking with you,” Ford admits after a pause, sheepish, “but oh my God I wish I’d thought to do that earlier.”

Lardo lets her breath all out in a huff, then another steadier one. Jesus fucking Christ. She’s still jittery, on the edge with the very concept. Maybe it’s lucky Ford doesn’t actually have a vibrator with her; fuck knows what Lardo would have done, and they’re still cosied up in the hallway to the toilets. “Fuck it, come on, let’s leave early.”

They make their excuses and Lardo is pretty sure it’s okay, they’ve been there for ages, there’s only three quarters of an hour left, it’s whatever. They don’t get a cab because turned on as they may be, neither of them is made of money. If asked, Lardo would have said that getting any kind of public transit is grimy and irritating enough to kill any kind of mood, but that would be a lie; by the time she’s fumbling on their front step to get the key in the lock, Ford pressing in unnecessarily close behind her, she doesn’t feel any less worked up than before.

It probably tops some of the least classy sexual experiences she’s had, but Lardo has zero regrets as she gets on her knees the moment Ford closes the door behind them and pulls Ford’s underwear down just enough to get her mouth on her.

Ford makes a choked off sound and reaches down to get a hand in Lardo’s hair, to guide her in closer and to where feels best. Lardo follows Ford’s nudges happily, head swimming a little as she licks and sucks and presses, closed in by Ford’s thighs and skirt, chin catching occasionally on Ford’s underwear. She can hear Ford babbling a little, a semi-continuous stream of small gasps and moans, and she lets that guide her too without thinking too much about it.

Lardo aches for some kind of relief for herself, the taste and the smell and the sound of Ford’s voice building and building her own arousal, but she doesn’t want to stop. Ford’s legs are trembling and her moans getting louder, and before long her hand is almost painfully tight in Lardo’s hair as she cries out a jumbled, “Lardo– yes,Larissa, fuck– oh shit,” and Lardo feels her come with a shudder against her tongue.

Lardo gives Ford a few more gentler licks as she comes down, and then awkwardly extricates herself from between her legs. Her mouth and chin feel wet and sticky and she wipes across with the back of her hand before she looks up at Ford; she’s still breathing heavily, head leaned back against their front door and eyes shut, but after another moment or two she comes back to herself.

“I love you,” she says, pulling up her underwear and helping Lardo to her feet. Ford kisses her on the cheek and Lardo wonders if she can taste herself there.

“Sure, Miss I-Just-Had-an-Orgasm,” says Lardo, mostly kidding but also so desperate to come herself that she has half a mind to reach into her own underwear, just to take the edge off.

Ford kisses her again, but this time with a lot more tongue, and Lardo is quivering a bit and clinging to Ford’s shoulder for support when she pulls away. Ford looks so fond, and so hot, and Lardo loves her; she thinks Ford gets it.

“Come on,” says Ford, taking Lardo’s hand and leading her up the stairs, “Your turn. Let’s find you that vibrator.”

#check please fic #my writing #fordo #omgcpwomen #idk why the formatting looks so weird??? but it looks fine everywhere but in the dash so

3 notes · View notes

figjelly · 7 years ago

Text

On grammar: if rules are arbitrary, why follow them?

Welcome to this week’s addition of Advice Nobody Asked For (ANAF). Every Monday I’ll post something regarding writing work I’m doing and some advice I have regarding my current experiences. It’s been a hot minute since the last ANAF because my life changed drastically so my time comes at a high premium (more so than before). This morning, I was editing a new chapter to send off to my editor and realized a new, small something about grammar and what makes writing “correct.” Long post under the cut:

I am not a licensed “expert” on communication and language, but I’d like to think I’m better than an expert because being rabidly fanatic about “facts” comes part and parcel with being an expert. I am, of course, speaking from my time in academia. But I suspect most people would consider experts as having a great deal of formal education from an institution. I’m not a zealot when it comes to disciplines. I’m discerning and critical. Unrelated to this ANAF, I probably made a lot of people hate me in academia for the same reason I’m not religious: I don’t have what it takes to blindly follow and be part of an assembly line. That is neither here nor there. All you need to know is, I’ve got a crap ton of formal education and applicable experience when it comes to writing. Anyway, you probably had at least one language arts teacher during your education who was hard on grading when it came to grammar. Maybe they knew a lot. Maybe they knew like one or two rules that they were really intent on making sure you fixed. Some of these rules might have looked like:

Don’t split infinitives.

“Ain’t“ is not a word because it breaks down into “are is not”

Never start a sentence with “but.”

These are popular adages that I grew up with anyway. I’m really pleased to see tumblr engaging with the ideas of descriptive vs prescriptive language. Just take a moment to at least read the brief descriptions of those wiki pages because it’ll become important for the rest of this ANAF. I am a hardcore descriptionist. Anytime something involves telling me how things should happen, I’m immediately skeptical and want to know, “Okay, why should X happen?” A great deal of “shoulds” in life end up being social norms that are trying to wash out the richness of variation in human behavior. Communication is a human behavior. Language is a type of communication; therefore, it is a type of human behavior. Did you notice that pretentious semicolon I threw into that previous sentence? It would have be equally intelligible as “Language is communication so it’s a behavior too.” That, my friends, is what I like to call Ash’s Law of If You Can Understand What the Hell was Just Communicated to You, It’s All Good. Language is a living, dynamic tool. That is what it is. I’ve spent over a decade studying language from sociolinguistics to ethology to cognitive neuroscience. To me, if it works then congrats, it counts. But how does all of this pertain to writing? My editor @nuwanders is probably the most talented and patient person I know. Why? Because the amount of TED Talks I give when commenting on her edits would drive any other person mad by this point. Over the years, I’ve become more aware that without great characters and characterization, complicated plots are just Sudoku puzzles and, man, do I hate Sudoku. That’s not to say Sudoku is awful--it’s just not how I want to spend my time. I’m the same way about crossword puzzles. I like the idea of how small details can be put into such complicated but richly ordered puzzles. I just sorta, kinda hate being patient with them. So, characters is where I land for how to start a story. I often write in first-person POV. Sometimes I’ll opt for third-person, limited POV. It’s easier for me to engage with my own work. My editor and I will often go back and forth on these issues:

Character dialogue isn’t grammatically correct.

Story that is not dialogue isn’t grammatically correct.

Somewhere I completely fucked things up and the back and forth is me going, “oh shit, so sorry, yes you are completely right ugh why did I make such a simple mistake???”

Okay, okay, #3 happens but it still embarrasses me to slip into wrong verb tenses (I often flip between present and past tense because my brain is usually in five different places on a good day and who knows why I do things). I know all sorts of verb tenses. I know the difference between present perfect and future perfect conditional. INSERT PLUG ABOUT HOW LEARNING OTHER LANGUAGES HELPS YOU BE A BETTER WRITER HERE. That all-caps plug was intentional btw. #1 is usually a short conversation where I explain that character A isn’t as formally educated as character B or that character C just “doesn’t talk like that.” It’s easier to make a descriptive case for a descriptive instance. #2 is more complicated. Let’s say there exists a character named Lita. She is clever although lacks a formal education beyond primary schooling. She reads a lot, works at a grocery store, and enjoys participating in community theater. If I had to tell a story about Lita, regardless of plot and her objectives, those small, background details need more fleshing out. Why? Because the details of those smaller, inconsequential items informs me how I need to report Lita’s story to an audience. Lita only exists in my head. I am trying to communicate to people a whole new world that exists only in my thoughts. That doesn’t mean that some of the thoughts won’t be easier to communicate. We all know what reading is. I don’t have to explain that process. But it does matter what type of reader Lita is. Fleshing out this detail will tell ME as the writer how I need to report Lita’s thoughts to you. If I write in first-person: “I picked up the book, read a few chapters, and then went to bed.” This tells me that Lita is a casual reader who probably isn’t too invested in critical theory of literature. I’d have a hard time convincing someone with that sentence alone that Lita was reading a hard science fiction novel. I’d have an easier time convincing you that it was a romance novel. If I wrote: “I picked up the book, got a few chapters read and then finally made the decision to go to bed.” There’s kinda a problem here. It communicates the same information as the first example, but the grammar and structure of the sentence--the way I’ve decided to report to you how Lita reports her information to me--that kinda makes that sentence a little harder to swallow. (Not really the point but I can explain if anyone asks why I’d say that). Having a name for a rule is a language “hot key” for being able to point out when something seems off. To be quite honest, it took me longer to write sentence #2 than it did sentence #1 because breaking the rule is hard for me now. Parallel structure in a sentence with a list of items simply makes the information parse easier for me. It’s a case of X, Y, Z that I’m then able to use to create a voice for my character. I just need to be able to keep X, Y, Z in mind. And that’s really why knowing the rules helps you break them: it helps create a louder voice for your character, really allows them to shine through so the story isn’t just the writer’s report of what the character is doing in their particular environment. Let’s see if I can’t make Lita a little more real:

“I picked up the book, gently sliding the bookmark from between two page to place it on my nightstand. Deciding to read a few chapters, I sat up straight and felt myself smiling at title of the next section. Lost Love. These sorts of chapters were my favorite. That moment when two lovers reconnected, their emotions so complicated that the only thing they can say to one another is, ‘You’re looking well. How’ve things been?’ But after three hours of getting sucked in, I realized how late it was and finally made the decision to go to bed.”

There’s a little mix and matching going on here, but knowing the rule of parallel structure helps me as a writer focus on something more important (i.e. the basics) so I can break it apart to make it more interesting. It’s easier on me to organize and plan if I use rules so I can help make the report of a fictional character’s thoughts easier to communicate. Sometimes fictional characters don’t report to us in grammatical ways because we, as writers, are privy to their stream of consciousness (which is decidedly not grammatical). Our thoughts come to us in stranger ways than language. Lita might only report to me that dealing with an angry customer in ways that are 0% words--frustration, heat (body temp), and the need to get away from a situation. That’s not a great way to report things. An example: “Hot. I’m hot. Idiot. I know the rules. Yelling, heart races, pound pound. Leave leave leave idiot need to be doing other things idiot stop yelling.” That is a very hard report of an internal world to follow. BUT depending on the character, it might be effective to break rules of punctuation and clarity of action. You might have a character whose self-report breaks down so much that you, as the writer, are simply forced to transcribe and little else. It’d be effective for creating a character who might dissociate in stressful situations or whose suffered an injury so severe the pain sort of takes over all organization. I can’t tell you when or what when it comes to using such a strategy but I can use rules (again, language hot keys to quickly point out something that is different from expectations) in order to try and figure out why or how using or breaking a rule is effective. In that stream example above, I can say that lack of punctuation makes me feel uneasy. Punctuation is a rule we use in writing to help organize and transition thoughts. I know how to use punctuation to sound pretentious (see: that semicolon above). I know how to limit how many words might occur between punctuation in order to create quick actions (short, choppy, active voice sentences are good here). But, more importantly, when I know the rules and have really internalized them as second-nature, I don’t spend as much time worrying about how to apply the rules. Instead, I can work on figuring out when and why I should or should not use a rule. Rules are arbitrary in the way that social rules are arbitrary--they’re pretty meaningless devoid of context. We follow rules because we don’t live in vacuums. Deviations from rules come with consequences, effects. Following rules also has consequences, effects. Knowing the rules allows you to become good at examining the effects of following the rules. When you deviate from rules, it gives you an opportunity to then compare and contrast the effects. So, what if you don’t know a rule? Imagine a social situation where the rules are much different than what you’re comfortable with. You might try different things based on what you do know, but without having the internalize, first-hand experience, it’s going to be rocky. You’ll probably have difficulties pointing to exactly why things seem so hard, why you can’t improve (improvement being individualized, of course). Then, imagine some at this particular social situation says, “You tend to show your teeth a lot while smiling. It’s unnerving.” Et voila! (Yes, I’m too lazy to get the accent mark, excuse the rule-breaking). Now you know to smile without showing so much teeth! Things are a bit smoother now! And guess what? Now that you know that people find the whole “smiling with teeth” thing unnerving, guess what you have? If you wanna tell a story about a strange encounter you had with someone, you can smile with teeth to report that you were unnerved while dealing with the stranger! Example: “So, the entire time, this guy is just staring at me so I’m just like, please please go away.” And then you smile with some teeth to show nervousness, unease. BAM! New Hot Key Unlocked! Grammar and writing work much in the same way. Grammar is a fancy way of saying “language hot keys.” Poetry is a really good example of how knowing rules allows you to break it into interesting ways because poetry is concerned with how things sound as well. There are rules for the sounds our mouths make, what’s pleasing to hear (consonance) and what’s not (dissonance). But poetry also has interesting grammatical rules as well. Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass is a great example of how breaking well-known rules can produce something distinct and unique. So, I’ve rambled quite a bit. I’ll leave it at that for now but I’m always happy to field questions.

#anaf #thank you for coming to my ted talk #writing #writing advice

1 note · View note

andromeda---galaxy · 7 years ago

Text

just you and me

Other than Angela, Nathan and his wife Simone are probably Lukas’s favorite friends that they’ve made in New York City. Their twins, Kayla and Ray, are pretty much the cutest kids he’s ever seen, and right now they’ve over at Nathan’s apartment for the fourth time, watching the kids play with Izzy. Izzy is really good with them, which relieved Philip, but Lukas always had faith in her.

Simone walks over to the living room and clicks her tongue at her husband, making eye contact with Lukas. “Don’t let him force you to watch football if you don’t want to watch it.”

Lukas snorts. “We thought we’d give it a try.”

Nathan throws out his hands, immediately going for the little corn dogs she puts on the coffee table. “They wanted to give it a try!”

Simone scoffs, walking into the kitchen again.

“Philip!” little Kayla calls, laughing when Izzy licks her face.

“Yeah?” Philip answers, using the louder voice he always comes up with when he’s talking to the kids.

“She’s kissing me!” Kayla yells, giggling, and Lukas watches Ray grab Izzy’s toy while she’s distracted. He’s definitely the more rambunctious one of the two, and Lukas thinks he’s probably heard Kayla say ten words including what she just said to Philip.

“She does that if she likes you!” Philip says, smiling at Lukas.

Lukas feels kinda weird, because whenever he sees Philip interacting with the kids he’s immediately more attracted to him, which usually seems beyond impossible. It’d been the same with Izzy and the other puppies, but it’s a new, deep kind of affection seeing him with these two that spreads across Lukas’s chest and makes his throat feel like it’s closing up.

“I’ve got your toy, Miss Iz!” Ray yells, jumping up and down. “I’ve got it!”

“We’re gonna need to get them a dog,” Nathan says, laughing.

“I’ve already been on all these shelter pages,” Simone says, walking over with another plate of food, what looks like some kind of buffalo chicken dip and a bowl of chips. “If we see siblings they’re both coming home.”

“Soon we’re gonna have a zoo up in here,” Nathan says.

“Saving lives,” Lukas says, grinning.

“Exactly,” Simone agrees, sitting down next to Nathan. “That idiot down the hall still harassing you two? I think he’s afraid of me at this point.”

Philip clicks his tongue and Lukas looks at him. He knows it makes Philip uncomfortable, having that guy so close. It makes him uncomfortable too, makes him feel sorta sick knowing he’s so close to Philip, bringing up things he probably doesn’t want to remember. It worries Lukas that it reminds Philip of how Lukas used to be, how he treated him back in high school. Lukas knows how he was, how he fucking acted, and he hates thinking about it. When he remembers that time of his life it feels like he was buried deep within himself, like everything was an echo and only the small moments alone with Philip made him feel like he could breathe again.

Everything is good air now. Philip is everywhere, Philip is oxygen. And Lukas doesn’t want to let any fucking toxic air in. He wants to shake this guy, grab onto his lapels and yell in his face to get some goddamn help and leave them alone.

“He always tries to catch us in the hall,” Philip says. “I was trapped in the elevator with him the other day and he kept muttering things under his breath. He’s so weird.”

Lukas grits his teeth. He almost boiled over when Philip told him that.

“Yeah, he tried to approach me the other day,” Nathan says. “Rethought it real fast but I think it’s getting close to us being able to report his ass.”

“Yeah?” Lukas asks. He has no idea of the boundaries with these things. If he had his choice he would have already dumped this asshole into the trash.

“I’m gonna record him next time he tries his shit,” Nathan says. “And if I hear him doing it to you guys, I’ll do it for you too.”

“That’s a good idea,” Philip says, and Lukas looks over as Ray and Kayla shriek, both petting Izzy’s belly.

“But don’t let him affect your everyday life,” Nathan says, shaking his head. “I’m serious, I know it bothers you, but you’re bigger than him. He doesn’t have any love in his life and for good damn reason.”

“Yeah,” Lukas says, but he’s having a hard time getting King Prick out of his head, and he knows Philip is too.

“I feel like we need to…reclaim our apartment,” Philip says that night, when they’re brushing their teeth in front of the mirror. He spits in the sink and tilts his head to the side when Lukas looks at him. “Not like he’s taken anything.”

“He hasn’t,” Lukas says, around his toothbrush.

“I know,” Philip says, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right,” Lukas says, still staring at him.

Philip sighs, shaking his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.”

Lukas rinses his mouth out and spits, straightening up, chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s bothering me too. It’s because he’s so close.”

“Yeah,” Philip says. “If it was some random dude on the street I wouldn’t give a shit.”

“It’d be annoying for a second—”

“Yes—”

“But he’s right fucking there—”

“And it hasn’t gotten better—”

“Yes,” Lukas says, getting heated. “I’m always just fucking paranoid you’re gonna come home and he’s gonna be looming out there like a lunatic, I feel like I need to intercept you in the hallway—”

“Same,” Philip says, shaking his head, and for a minute he looks so sad that Lukas can’t take it. He steps forward and presses a kiss to Philip’s forehead, smoothing his hands up his sides. “Ugh, Lukas,” Philip says, leaning into him. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation a hundred times for two weeks now.”

“I hope he dies,” Lukas says, and Philip laughs. “What? I do. He’s a dick.”

Philip shifts forward and presses his face into Lukas’s neck.

“Have you still not told Helen?” Lukas asks. “I know you were thinking about it.”

“Nah, I never did,” Philip says, wrapping his arms around Lukas’s waist. “I just feel like her reaction would stress me out more.”

“Let’s do what you said,” Lukas says, kissing Philip’s temple and rocking him back and forth. “This weekend let’s…let’s repaint the living room.”

“Paint it?” Philip asks, pulling back a little bit to look at him.

Lukas presses a kiss between Philip’s furrowed brows. “Yeah,” he says. “We can cover everything in plastic, go pick out a nice color…and paint the living room. Because this is our place and fuck him.”

Philip stares at him for a moment, a smile growing on his face. “Right,” he says. “Because King Prick has no goddamn say over where we live and what we do in our own house.”

“Because we plan on staying here despite whatever the hell he does,” Lukas says, fingers tugging at the hem of Philip’s shirt.

“Good idea, baby,” Philip says, tipping his chin up for a kiss.

They get a bunch of plastic and cover everything up before going back out to pick out their paint. Their walls are a simple white now and they settle on a soft gold, which is actually gonna match their couch a lot better. And as soon as that thought enters Lukas’s head he tries to beat it down, not wanting to be one of those gay dudes that cares about interior decorating.

They put on music, wear some of their grungier older clothes and start on either side of the room, both of them armed with a roller. Lukas doesn’t think he’s much good at it, knows that Philip is a lot better than he is. He can’t stop looking over his shoulder at how fucking cute Philip looks—wearing an old whitewash pair of jeans and a ripped white t-shirt, already with a smear of paint on his arm from when he messed up early on. They put tape around the edges of the window and the walls and it feels like it’s taking forever. Izzy is behind the baby gate in the bedroom and watches for a while before she gets bored, wandering further into their room.

“She sleeping on the bed?” Philip asks.

Lukas walks over, peeking into the room, watching his roller drip down onto the plastic covering the floor. Izzy is curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, snoring away, one of her unrecognizable toys still close to her paw.

“Passed out,” Lukas says. He walks back over and narrows his eyes, pouting. “Your section looks way better than mine.”

Philip snorts. “It looks exactly the same, babe.”

“Your strokes are way better,” Lukas says, looking back and forth between their sections.

“Of course they are,” Philip says, and it actually looks like he’s leering at Lukas.

Lukas barks out a laugh and he flicks his roller in Philip’s direction, watching the paint fly through the air and splatter across Philip’s pants. Philip scoffs, looking scandalized, and he whips his brush through the air too, a bunch of the gold paint getting on Lukas’s shirt.

“Babe!” Lukas yells, trying not to smile, but Philip brandishes his roller like a weapon, grinning full-out.

“Don’t start,” Philip says, but Lukas takes that as a challenge and snaps the brush towards him again, the paint cascading over and landing on Philip’s perfect chest. Philip gasps and Lukas laughs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, and before he knows it Philip’s hands are on his face, covered in paint.

Lukas squints, leaning into his touch on instinct. “Aw, baby,” Lukas says, groaning.

“Yeah,” Philip says, rubbing the paint in, dragging it across Lukas’s chin. “Yeah, you like that? You’re gold now, Lukas, you’re—”

Lukas cuts him off by smashing their mouths together, sure that the paint is getting all over Philip’s face too. Philip groans a little bit but his roller drops to the ground and he reaches around, grabbing Lukas’s ass and hauling him closer. “Dangerous,” Lukas growls against Philip’s lips, tossing his own roller away. “What if it never comes off my face?”

“I’d still like you,” Philip says, and they’re pressed together close as can be, swaying, and Lukas’s head is starting to get foggy, like he does when they get like this. Wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world going fuzzy and dark.

“Just like?” Lukas asks, nipping at Philip’s lip.

“Love,” Philip says, his breath coming out in a heated wave. “Adore.”

Lukas’s chest goes hot, the heat crawling up his throat. Philip pulls him back a little bit and they take a couple awkward steps backward, their mouths pressed together but not quite kissing. Philip steps back onto the paint can, knocking it over. Lukas can see he’s falling and he tries to stop it, but when he wraps his arms around Philip’s waist he loses his footing too, both of them toppling down onto the ground.

He landed on Philip pretty hard, the plastic crinkling and the paint can rolling over towards the couch, and Lukas pulls back to try to look at him. But Philip only laughs, looks like the most graceful and elegant thing in the entire universe, and he pulls Lukas back down by the neck. Lukas kisses him deep, settling more firmly on top of him.

There are too many jeans, too many clothes period, and Lukas can feel the paint anywhere. But he’s already moving and thrusting down against Philip, kissing all over his face.

“Don’t,” Philip gasps, and Lukas stops moving immediately, staring down at him. Philip shakes his head and grasps at Lukas’s lower back, his hips. “No, don’t—don’t kiss anywhere with—with paint—it’s—it’s toxic—”

Lukas laughs, his heart stuttering a little bit, and he keeps moving, slower now, grinding their hips together. His cock is so hard it hurts and he can feel Philip through his tight jeans, knows he’s getting wetter for him, can feel him widening the spread of his legs and arching up for better friction.

“Philip,” Lukas gasps, mouth pressing desperately to those lax, plush lips.

“Too many clothes—”

“Too many—way—way too many—”

The plastic underneath them is way too fucking noisy but Philip doesn’t seem to care, impatient hands clawing at Lukas’s shirt before he peels it off of him. Lukas doesn’t want to be parted from him for any amount of time but he braces his hand on the side of Philip’s head and reaches down, deftly undoing the button of his pants as Philip tosses off his own shirt. Lukas presses his face down into the crook of Philip’s neck and arches his hips up, reaching down and pushing his pants down his hips. Philip helps him until he’s down to his boxer-briefs and then they push his pants off too, Lukas nosing his temple and kissing his cheekbone.

He presses their bodies together again once they’re only wearing underwear because sometimes moments with Philip feel like the only moment left on this earth, and he has to take advantage of every solitary second, has to feel the electricity between them, the way Philip’s dick feels against Lukas’s own. He knows they belong to each other and he can always feel it, in quiet moments when they’re sitting and watching TV together, when they’re texting back and forth in different parts of the city, when they’re drunk and babbling in each other’s arms. But this is when he feels it most, when they’re riding out each other’s pleasure, touching and kissing and moving the exact way the other wants. Philip is his favorite book, his favorite TV show, the best fucking movie he’s ever seen. Philip is a symphony.

Philip presses his thumbs into the dimples at the small of Lukas’s back and he moans, rubbing against Lukas, smiling and letting out little hushed, gasping noises. “Fuck,” he breathes, and Lukas touches his face, tangles a hand in his hair. “Kiss me,” Philip says. “Kiss—kiss me.”

Lukas sinks his tongue into Philip’s mouth and swallows another moan. Philip tastes like every memory Lukas has of happiness, every high note he’s ever experienced and all the ones still to come. He breathes a prayer into his mouth, the static drawing through every part of him, his thrusts going ragged. Lukas is so fucking wet for him, his underwear damp and clinging to his sensitive skin, and no one, nothing gets him hot like Philip does.

“Mine,” Lukas whispers against Philip’s lips, feeling him gasp. “Mine, baby, mine, mine—”

“Oh Lukas, fuck,” Philip groans. “You’re gonna make—make me come, you’re gonna make me come, Lukas—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lukas chants, trying to thrust harder but he only stutters, gripping Philip’s beautiful, soft, fucking perfect hair, dragging his thumb across Philip’s chin and through some of the paint. “Want you to come, angel face, come on, come for me—”

“Lukas,” Philip breathes, rubbing against him in a fervor. “Lukas, Lukas—”

“Yeah, baby,” Lukas gasps, and he moves just the right way, feeling Philip’s hipbones and his thighs and his hands gripping Lukas’s ass, and Lukas presses their foreheads together, letting out a long whine as he comes apart. He knows Philip hasn’t yet and he snakes a hand between them as he shakes and trembles, rubbing his hand back and forth over the wet spot on Philip’s boxer-briefs.

“Lukas, ah—ah—” and then he’s following fast, writhing and gasping, clinging to him. Lukas collapses down on top of him and runs a soothing hand through his hair, waiting for their breathing to slow down.

Philip laughs a little bit and Lukas echoes it, kissing him soft and tender.

“Izzy didn’t watch us right?” Philip asks. “God, nightmare.”

Lukas looks up at the baby gate, still in place, and no Izzy in sight. “Baby, you know she sleeps like a rock. Next time we just need to be really loud so that shithead down the hall can enjoy the show,” Lukas says.

“Yes,” Philip breathes, way too raspy and sexual, and Lukas feels his dick twitch in interest again, hotwired to anything sexy Philip does or says, which is almost fucking everything. “But no.”

“No?” Lukas asks.

“No. Izzy.”

“Sleeps like a rock!” Lukas exclaims.

Philip grins, shaking his head. Lukas leans down to kiss his cheek, avoiding the smears of paint, and he closes his eyes. He likes to have these little moments to himself, to enjoy what he has, the beauty of Philip Shea.

“Oh God, Lukas,” Philip says.

“What?” Lukas asks, nuzzling his cheek.

“We missed a whole patch of the wall,” Philip says. “And we’re out of paint because we spilled it.”

“We gotta finish,” Lukas says, pressing against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “We gotta.”

“Oh my god, you’re nuts.”

“We’ll just roll it off the plastic,” Lukas says, kissing Philip again.

“No, we’ll get more tomorrow,” Philip says, squirming and laughing.

“Sorry babe we’re gonna finish right now,” Lukas says.

Philip laughs, loud and lovely, and Lukas can’t help it, kissing him one more time.

Lukas winds up finishing the last white part in the middle while Philip lounges on the ground just like Lukas left him, ruined underwear and all. It makes Lukas work faster for sure, and he still manages to do a good job before he lifts Philip up off the ground and tugs him towards the shower. They make out in there for what feels like an eternity that by the time they get out, they’re so tired that they collapse on the bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

But not before I love you, a thousand promises whispered into the dark.

He wakes up the next morning and Philip isn’t in bed with him. Izzy is there, curled up against Lukas’s hip, and he absentmindedly reaches down and pets her head. He sits up and looks around, blinking their room back into focus. “Baby?” he calls, his voice still rough from sleep.

“One sec!” Philip yells, and that’s when Lukas notices the door is slightly open. He can hear Philip coming and then he sees him, carrying the little tray they bought to keep out in the living room. It has a plate of food on it and Philip walks over, putting it on top of Lukas’s lap.

“What the hell is this?” Lukas asks, his heart beating a little faster. There are three pancakes, blueberry syrup, two sunny side up eggs and a bunch of toast.

Philip rushes out and Lukas watches him come back with a glass of orange juice and a bone for Izzy. She takes it with keen interest and scoots down to the end of the bed, getting to work. Philip puts the glass on the tray and scoots up to Lukas, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Philip?” Lukas asks, wrapping an arm around him.

“Just wanted to do something nice,” Philip says, kissing his collarbone.

Lukas sighs, smiling at the spread. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” Philip says. “I don’t give a shit about that asshole. I don’t care what he says.”

“Me either,” Lukas says.

“It only matters what you and me think,” Philip says, cuddling a little closer.

Lukas knows it’s true. He’s seen narrow-mindedness up close and personal, and he knows it’s a hard shell to crack. But this fucker, despite their proximity to him, means nothing to them. Not really. He isn’t anybody important. Especially with his asshole intentions.

“Exactly,” Lukas says, thinking there’s another letter he needs to write in his notebook as soon as he’s alone. “Just you and me.”

#philkas #eyewitness #philip shea #lukas waldenbeck #my writing #ns//fw

26 notes · View notes