#//All hail the duck army | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voiceoffenrisulfr · 7 months

Text

Hail Hydra - Chapter Eleven “Vision without integrity is not mission – it's manipulation.”

Bucky gets to his new home, and is treated with surprising tenderness- until he isn't. Prompts fulfilled; - 'If I Wanted You Dead' and 'Wants a Prize for Basic Decency' - @multifandom-flash (Double); - 'It's Okay to Cry' - Multifandom Flash (Dozen); - 'Ghosts Hide Better When It's Snowing' - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); - 'Blizzard' - Winter Wonderland Bingo; - 'Made a Slave' - Multifandom Flash (Beehive). CW: Violence, slavery, implied risk to life.

Divider by @firefly-graphics! Read the full chapter below, or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom!

The truck ride eventually became a flight at a private, unspectacular airfield – the plane so small and rickety that a lesser man would have been inconsolable. A distant part of my brain absently wondered where we were going, but I was so focused on the feeling soaking back into bones that I barely cared.

If they keep up the heat, they can do what they like.

I hadn’t been truly warm in longer than I could remember. The room I had been moved to had been marginally less frigid, but I’d still never truly thawed out – but sat with my hands cuffed together in the back of a seven-passenger plane, I had my head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed with pleasure at the returning sensation in my skin.

But there was a definite downside to being able to feel my body again.

The plane hit another air pocket, the turbulence shaking the craft ominously, and I winced.

“Nervous flier?” the Lieutenant asked, smirking when I opened an eye an inch to consider him.

“No, Sir,” I replied softly, raising my head to position myself more respectfully. “Not at all.”

“You winced.” When I only nodded, he frowned, turning more fully to face me. “Why?”

I flexed my fingers thoughtfully, taking a moment before responding, hissing quietly at the stiffness. “I… I heal quickly now. I’m not sure why. I broke many bones under the doctor, and they healed quickly, though most did not heal correctly. I didn’t notice too much with the cold, but now…” I grimaced minutely, watching the bones of my hand shift in unnatural ways in response to the pull of tendons and muscles.

He nodded once, taking a long drag from a cigar, considering me quietly. “We’ll clean you up, Asset. Don’t you worry.” I hesitated nervously, and he grinned again, wide and quietly alarming. “If I wanted you dead, Soldat, you already would be. It’s in our vested interests to keep you alive. There’ll be no mindless torture here.”

The look on his face – something akin to pride – implied he felt he was owed some form of prize for his basic decency; with how I’d been treated since my capture so far, I’d be likely to give him one, if I had any possessions of my own left. Even the boots now encasing my feet had never been my own, and the uniform I found myself clad in was HYDRA black, a skull with octopus legs adorning the cuffs.

I never thought I’d so miss the standard army greens.

That thought had me longing, lost in thoughts of the streets of Brooklyn, of the pancakes on Sunday that my mother used to scrape all week to afford, of running wild with Steve and trying to keep him safe despite his boldness-

But the Lieutenant was still staring at me, clearly waiting for a response, an expression of gratitude.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied quickly, ducking my head graciously. “I-I’m very pleased to hear that.”

“You will be of great use to us, Asset,” he murmured as he settled back into his seat, steel eyes finally moving away from me. “You have a very important future.”

His words resounded ominously around my head as he stared aimlessly at the clouds passing by the window, a sense of profound fear settling in my chest.

What could this Soviet organisation possibly have planned for me?

I was bundled off the plane and onto the back of a snowmobile, grasping tight to the handle behind me – as much as he seemed far less vicious than the last man who seemed to hold my life in his hands, I wasn’t inclined to touch onto anyone right now, especially in a somewhat intimate manner.

The white wasteland was seemingly endless around us, stretching as far as I could see as we hurtled over it, the line between land and sky blurred.

I almost didn’t notice the gradually increasing disruptions to the landscape; beginning as small rocks, we were soon weaving between boulders as large as myself, dark and ragged against an eternal white.

We began to slow, and I looked around, brow furrowing. “We’re- there’s nothing here?”

The Lieutenant turned his head to glance at me from the corner of his eye as he raised his goggles, frowning minutely. “No HYDRA operation would be so easily found.” He climbed from the vehicle, shrugging a holdall over his back. The bag had appeared with him as he first joined us in the truck, presumably having been found in the alpine compound, but I had no idea what it held – only that it appeared to be quite light, given the ease with which he maneuvered it.

I fell into step behind him silently, my gaze automatically scanning for any possibility of escape. While the Lieutenant seemed noticeably kinder than the doctor, I still harboured a deep concern about what exactly they had in store for me. They had seemingly hunted me quite avidly, and their interest in my survival was somewhat ominous.

He lead the way to a heavy door nestled within a rocky outcrop, guiding me silently into a bleak corridor, several soldiers following behind. I was hyperaware of the guns at my back, silent and warning despite their apparently relaxed nature; I knew these men would not hesitate to take me out if they thought I was a risk.

The building descended and twisted in a multitude of ways, and I was hopelessly lost before we finally came to a halt. The soldiers marched on at a barked word from their Lieutenant, never even glancing my way as they passed by. Lebedev’s eyes turned to me, showing no emotion as he offered me a toothy smile.

“This is your room. This is where you will be unless otherwise instructed.”

His palm pressed to the heavy metal door, and I swallowed dryly at the thick window in the top of the door, a small hatch below. It was far too familiar, far too similar to the one I’d been kicked and dragged through for the last several months for my comfort. I could only nod, fear seizing my throat, as he slid back the bolt.

No opportunity to wander if I ever wanted to, then. A prisoner. Again.

He led me inside, and my relief was palpable at the somewhat-comfortable temperature, the sight of an actual bed – albeit with a metal frame, but the mattress was more than a thin pad, at least – and a threadbare carpet on the floor, in place of cold stone.

I looked around in surprise, and he nodded me forward, inviting me to explore the space. My fingers trailed gently over the sheets, the idea of wrapping myself up and burrowing between them offering me some modicum of comfort. Hand flexing automatically, I grimaced minutely at the ache in my bones, turning back to the Lieutenant to find his gaze still on me. “I- Thank you, Sir,” I stammered quickly as his eyes narrowed minutely, relief flooding my body when he relaxed.

“We’ll sort your bones before we let you get situated. You’ll be more comfortable.”

The pain of having half my bones broken and reset was agonising, strapped down to a table and staring into a bright light as one finger after another were snapped and realigned.

“I’m sorry,” the Lieutenant murmured with a thin smile, leaning into my eyeline. “We’d give you anaesthetic, but with your metabolism, you’d burn it off before you ever felt the effects, you see.” His smile grew a little wider as I winced when my wrist was snapped back. It took a high degree of effort to break my bones, my entire body jerking in the process, and the straps around my body chafed against my once-more bare skin. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmured soothingly, an unidentifiable edge to his voice that send a tremble down my spine. The feeling of my bones being manipulated had brought tears to my eyes, but I was blinking them back fiercely, refusing to let a single one fall in front of these people. His hand gently smoothed over my hair, and the surprise made my eyes widen, a single tear trailing down my cheek, eliciting a grin from the Lieutenant as he brushed it away with his thumb. “See? It’s okay. Nobody will judge you.”

The men around me grew still for a heartbeat, their anxiety palpable. Something about the look in his gaze made my stomach contract, nausea flooding through me for reasons I couldn’t quite identify. He seemed nice enough, but something felt amiss.

By the time my restraints were undone, I was aching in new ways, but feeling far more aligned than I had in a while, the breaks already starting to heal in more natural positions. I sat up slowly, grimacing, flexing my fingers experimentally with the eyes of the room on me. “It… Feels better. Thank you.” I spoke tentatively, still distrusting their motivation, gaze on my hands as I tested their movement. The Lieutenant nodded and he jerked his head at me, gesturing for me to follow him, and I got nervously to my feet as sweat pooled in my palms.

What now?

I was led into a room with enormous windows, overhanging an ominous cliff and with a view further than I could see through the swirling snow that had begun to fall while they worked on me. I shivered as the Lieutenant shut the door behind us, and he smiled tightly as he circled around to the front of me.

“You’re probably wondering what we intend to do with you, yes?”

“I… Yes, Sir…” I admitted quietly, my voice shaking minutely with nerves. This room felt too large, and I was too vulnerable, my nudity and tender extremities exposing my every weakness. The blizzard raged on through the glass, battering against the barrier in a furious attempt to overtake the warm room, and I thought briefly of the winter camo I’d seen the Soviet soldiers equipped with in battles further north.

“You are the result of Arnim Zola’s experimentation,” he began, circling me slowly. I watched him briefly before moving my gaze to the snowstorm, refusing to appear perturbed despite my vulnerability; there was only the two of us here. If it came to blows, I would win – even if I would never escape this compound alive afterwards. “During your time in Austria, Zola tested his own serum on you. And a few others, but they died before they could be of use.” Another wolfish grin, and my muscles contracted instinctively, barely biting back a growl at his dismissive tone.

They were my brothers.

He raised an eyebrow at my tightened posture, and I forced myself to relax, though my tongue still pressed to the roof of my mouth in an effort not to snap. “When you were liberated by the so-called Captain America, we-” The snark in his voice had made an irrepressible scoff rise in my throat, and his head jerked around as he paused, fixing his steel eyes on me. “Is there a problem?”

“Captain America is twice – no, ten times the man you will ever be. You’d be lucky to-” My words died in my throat as his palm found my cheek, my skin stinging at the impact as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Captain America is a stain upon this world. The Americans do not deserve such power. But worry not, we plan to eradicate him before long.” I hissed and moved closer, fingers clenching into a fist by my side, but he simply raised an eyebrow, stepping back a half-inch to aim his gun at my chest. “Rein yourself in, Asset. You are valuable, yes. But we have succeeded once before, and we could succeed again. You are not irreplaceable, and I will not hesitate to put you down if I need to.” I took a slow step backwards at the seriousness in his eyes, my will and resistance still shaken by my time in captivity. “That’s a good boy. Get on your knees.”

I hesitated, and his hand found my hair, roughly forcing me to kneel until my palm hit the floor. “We will not mindlessly torture you here. But you will obey, or you will be punished.” He leaned over me, his voice soft as he whispered in my ear. “And believe me – I can hurt you far more than the doctor. I know all about you, Asset. I know exactly how far I can push you without doing permanent damage, and I am more than willing to utilise that knowledge to its fullest extent at the slightest provocation.”

I swallowed dryly, fury and humiliation making my muscles tremble.

Decision time. Fight, or forfeit.

I thought of the countless winding corridors and endless armed men, and a single tear dropped to the concrete behind my hands. Before all this – and even at the start of my original captivity – I’d have tried to fight, choosing death over servitude.

But now… I knew how to play this game. I knew how to survive, even if I was barely alive. I could hope that one day this would be over.

Steve wouldn’t leave me here. One day he’d find out I was alive, and he’d come for me. I just had to survive in the meantime.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured to the ground, soft and broken.

He scoffed softly, hand tanging in my hair, pulling me upright on my knees to meet his eyes. “There. Was that so hard?” He moved to a low table, humming under his breath as he fiddled with unseen items, but I kept my gaze forward, staring with unfocused eyes into the swirling, swaying white. “There’s something you should understand. Are you listening?” He moved to squat in front of me as I nodded, drawing my eye to his. “James Barnes has been dead since the moment HYDRA serum entered your veins. His animated corpse just took a little while to catch up. But that fall from the train made certain his demise.” His hand grasped my chin roughly, a vicious smile on his face. “You are the Asset. The Winter Soldier. A ghost, a spectre… An assassin, one day, when we have you trained. The first of many,” he added, a genuine edge to his smile, seemingly proud of this idea. My gaze flicked back to the snow, thinking again of those Soviet soldiers in their white camouflage.

Ghosts hide better in the snow.

His fingers shifted to my throat, pushing my head back. I winced with realisation as heavy metal latched around my neck, blindly staring at the plain ceiling, wondering distantly what had happened to my life. I used to live a comparably luxurious life, cock of the walk back in Brooklyn, hanging around with Stevie and not having my life threatened on a daily basis. Now… I was collared and naked, knelt before this man who intended to use me as a slave.

I had to survive this. No matter how hard it was. No matter how much I wanted to die.

I had to survive this.

#mine #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #dd:de #multifandom flash bingo #winter wonderland bingo #seasonal delights bingo #hail hydra #hydra trash party

3 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

Text

VICTORY! New Free File rules ban tax-prep firms from hiding their offerings, allow IRS to compete with them (a love-letter to Propublica)

Six months ago, Propublica began beating the drum about "Free File," a bizarre, corrupt arrangement between the IRS and the country's largest tax-prep firms that ended up costing the poorest people in America millions and millions of dollars, every single year.

The scam is one of those baroque, ultimately boring and complex stories that generally dies in the public imagination despite its urgency, because "boring and urgent" is the place where the worst people can do the worst things with the least consequences.

With that warning, here's a short summary: in most wealthy countries, the tax authority fills out your tax return for you, using the information your employer already has to file every time it pays your wages. If all the numbers look right to you, you just sign the bottom of the form and send it back, without paying a tax preparer. If, on the other hand, you want to claim extra deductions, or if something complicated is going on with your finances, you can throw away that free tax return and fill in a form from scratch, either on your own or with the help of a professional.

When Americans asked to have the same courtesy extended to them -- a move that would save the vast majority of Americans millions and millions of dollars they were currently paying to the likes of HR Block and Intuit/Turbotax, every single year of their entire working lives -- the tax-prep industry mobilized to kill the proposal. The industry (which is highly concentrated and dominated by a small handful of firms whose top execs have mostly done time in all their competitors' board rooms, making them into essentially one giant company whose different divisions have different shareholders) lobbied the IRS very hard, and won a resounding victory.

That victory is called "Free File." Under Free File, each tax prep company is required to serve a slice of working Americans with free, online tax-preparation. The arrangement was hailed as a victory for public-private partnerships, harnessing the efficiency of the private sector to perform this public duty of the state. Importantly, it meant that the IRS would not expand its headcount or budget, both of which had been slashed by successive right-wing presidents and their legislative enablers. The move was cheered by anti-tax extremists like Grover Nordquist, who was delighted by the "efficiency" of you saving a bunch of pieces of paper the government already had, typing them into an online form, and hoping that a company's website came up with the same calculations that the government had already made about your tax-bill.

Part of the Free File deal banned the IRS from creating a competing offer and it banned the IRS from advertising the existence of the program or telling people where to find the free offering.

As soon as the ink was dry on Free File, the tax-prep companies set about to sabotage it. Intuit -- a massive company led by a bizarre cult figure -- and its competitors hid their Free File offerings deep in their sites, and used the "robots.txt" system to instruct search engines to hide them. They took out search ads for the phrase "Free File" that directed users to paid offerings with the word "free" in their names. They created "Free File" systems that would make you go through hours of work entering your data before surprising you with a notice that you didn't qualify for Free File because you'd paid interest on a student loan (or some other normal thing) and then ask you if you wanted to pay to keep your work and finish your tax-return in the non-free system.

There's a simple name for this kind of activity: fraud.

But it was a fraud in plain sight, one that went on for years and years, and which created a stealth tax on the majority of Americans, which they had to remit not to the IRS, but to the tax-prep companies, which used the money to lobby to make it even harder to get away from handing them your money every year.

Enter Propublica, whose relentless reporting did the seemingly impossible: it made a complicated, boring important thing into something that millions of Americans cared about. Something they cared about so deeply that they actually managed to shame the IRS into taking action.

Remember, the IRS is an administrative agency, under the direct control of the Trump administration. That means its commander-in-chief is a guy who said dodging his taxes means that he's "smart." While the IRS has many good, hardworking staffers, it has also been demoralized and gutted by the right, who have convinced millions of poor people that it's somehow in their interests if it's easier for rich people to duck their taxes.

Despite all this, the IRS has enacted new Free File rules: first, these rules ban tax-prep companies from hiding their Free File offerings, and it bans them from using deceptive names for non-Free File offerings (Turbotax will no longer be allowed to confuse Americans by offering "Turbotax Free" -- which is not free -- as a competitor to "Turbotax Free File," which is).

Second, the rule allows the IRS to develop its own competing Free File product, which means that the government agency that already knows how much tax you owe will allow you to review its findings each year and then either challenge them, or simply click OK, without paying a single cent of tax to Intuit or HR Block, and free you from filling in lengthy, bureaucratic forms.

This outcome is nothing short of miraculous: it did not come as the result of Congressional action. It did not come as the result of the Trump administration's inattention (the release came out the same day that the Trump administration revised its tax rules to allow money launderers to retain billions in the loot they've stashed offshore).

It came about as the result of fucking journalism. Propublica wrote its way into a better world, with relentless, deep, accessible reporting that made this boring, important thing come to life.

I am sympathetic to the idea that talking about politics isn't doing politics, but that's not entirely true. Learning about what's going on and telling the people you know about it and getting them to tell others is part of how we make change. Propublica's excellent reporting wouldn't have mattered if people hadn't read it -- and talked about it.

And Propublica has done this repeatedly over the past year, deeply reporting on naked, grotesque corruption in ways so vivid and undeniable that they actually changed things, and not in some abstract, boring way, but in ways that matter to the immediate, lived experience of real people who had been brutalized and poisoned and jailed and mistreated with impunity, for years, until Propublica wrote about it.

Here are some examples, just from the stories I paid attention to this year (Propublica does so much good work that I can't manage to cover all of it):

* Reformed South Carolina's "magistrate judge" system that let "judges" with no legal background and less training than barbers sentence poor people (most of them Black) to prison in defiance of their constitutional rights;

* Dismantled Illinois's system of Quiet Rooms where special ed kids were put into solitary confinement, sometimes for days at a time;

* Shamed a "Christian" hospital into ending its practice of suing thousands of patients, many of them its own employees, for inability to pay their medical debts, and forcing it to jettison the private army of debt collectors it kept on its payroll.

* Killed an Illinois scam whereby affluent parents temporarily gave up custody of their own children so they could steal college grants earmarked for poor children;

* Got two Louisiana cops fired for encouraging people to murder Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez;

In addition, Propublica has done lots of reporting that hasn't yet created political transformations, but has changed our debate and laid the groundwork for change to come: called attention to the penniless hero of the ransomware epidemic; discredited a "walking polygraph" system used by police forces to frame their preferred suspects with sheer junk science; documented the link between pharma company bribes and doctors' prescribing; named every former lobbyist in the Trump administration; tracked every penny of the 2008 bailout money; documented Wayne LaPierre's self-dealing from the NRA's war-chests; documented the grifty conservative PACs that scammed millions out of scared old white people with racist Obama conspiracies and then kept the money for themselves; published a blockbuster story on the theft of southern Black families' ancestral lands through a legal grift called "heirs' property"; debunked the "aggression detection" mics being installed in America's classrooms; outed a "ransomware consultant" that was working with ransomware crooks to simply pay the ransom, while pretending that they were able to get you your files back without enriching the crooks who locked them up; named and shamed Alabama sheriffs who lost their re-election bids and then spent thousands of public dollars on frisbees or stole discretionary funds, or destroyed food earmarked for prisoners, or drilled holes in all the department computers' hard-drives in a form of "vindictive hazing"; followed the payday lender industry to a Trump hotel where it staged an annual conference, funneling millions to the president's personal accounts shortly before Trump reversed Obama's curbs on predatory lending; documented how TSA body-scanners single out Black women for humiliating, discriminatory hair-searches; revealed the secret history of wealthy people destroying the IRS's Global High Wealth Unit; and did outstanding work on the Sackler family, a group of billionaire opioid barons whose products kickstarted the opioid epidemic that has now claimed more American lives than the Vietnam war.

2019 was a dumpster-fire of a year and 2020 could be worse -- or it could be the dawn that breaks after our darkest hour. Finding Propublica's victory lap on Free File on New Year's Day was just the sunrise I needed to give me hope for the year to come. Sometimes, simply finding the truth and telling it to the people can make a change.

I'm a Propublica donor, and an avid reader. I admit that sometimes when I see that PP has published another 15,000-word expose, I am slightly dismayed at the thought that I'm about to lose 1-2 hours of my life to digesting and writing up the new story, but that dismay is always overcome by excitement at the thought that they have turned over a new rock and found something genuinely awful beneath it, and that, with all our help, we can sterilize that foetid sludge with blazing sunshine.

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/31/go-propublica-go.html

7K notes · View notes

bokutoslittlebird · 4 years

Text

Dark Nights

King!Oikawa x assassin!prisoner!reader

Author’s Note : This is the request for a prisoner reader and king Oikawa Au which is literally spiraled into a series. I am not sorry ; Everything will come to a close once the 5th installment is completed ; the request had “torture” and I didn’t realize until halfway through that torture probably wasn’t what you meant, but you’re gonna have to be more specific of what you want because I saw it and went “oh, noncon and maybe some actual hitting.” So, sorry if that’s not what you wanted.

Warnings: death of a minor character [no name OC], blood, dagger, noncon, degradation, kicking, Oikawa gets violent, Iwaizumi turns a blind eye, chains and dungeons, fingering, creampie, no aftercare, choking

Over the river and past the glen stands Fukurōdani, Kingdom in the Mountains that is under the rule of King Bokuto. The ruthless king that stands amongst his army as the bravest and strongest warrior, with his queen Kaori at his side. Deep in the castle, past the kitchen and deep in the dungeons, there sits three people. Amongst those three is a woman clad in all black, a dagger in her hand and a rag in the other, swiping away dark droplets that drip to the concrete floor. Before them, a man without a tongue.

“So, King Oikawa is looking for his bride-to-be, which is why he dared to trespass into the Dark Forest?” A rough voice speaks, his large hand tapping at his chin. His eyes pop open as a thought appears in his head, golden eyes turning to bore into yours. His smile is cunning and terrifying, but you just stare at him. “Maybe someone should see if he got what he was looking for,”

“If you’re suggesting I sneak into his castle, then say it. I don’t like puzzles and riddles, my lord,” your voice is dead, but loud enough to hear over the sharpening of your blade. “It’ll take a long time to get there and get back. Unlike your own kingdom, he has a barrier that is under watch by his loyal dogs.”

“You’re an assassin. Sneaking in is what you do,” he coos, standing from his chair. His presence is behind you, large hands settling onto your shoulders. “I ask of you to sneak into the Kingdom of Aoba Johsai and kill King Oikawa,”

“Excuse me? That’s a bit much,” your voice warbles. Killing a king is harder, much harder, than sneaking under the radar. You would know. “Killing a king isn’t easy, you know,”

“Oh, I know. I know very well, my dear,” his voice is barely audible, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “But, I can offer something if you succeed,”

“Which is?”

“Freedom. You’ll be able to fly again, my little songbird,” his lips press to your cheek, whirling you around to face him. You have to move your head to look up at him, but he’s grinning with lidded eyes. “You’re more than welcome to decline. Personally, I’d prefer it, however, I know you’re the best assassin I have,”

“Best disposable assassin. Why not send Keiji?”

“Akaashi is supposed to protect me. He can’t do that if he’s in another kingdom,”

“Fine, but only if you keep your promise. I’ll hold you to it,” you finally say, huffing as you sheath the dagger. Never one to not rise to the challenge, you turn on your heel to leave the dungeons.

The trip from Fukurōdani to Aoba Johsai would be a day on foot, but you were able to get to the base of the mountains and enter the Kingdom of Nekoma, which allowed tourists from neighboring kingdoms. There, you were able to get your hands on some rations and new clothes, disguising yourself as a beggar woman who’s traveling the continent.

Pathways lead from each kingdom to their neighbor, but you choose to duck into the forest, under the shadows of the leaves and proud standing trees. Go in too deep and you’ll arrive at the center of the Dark Forest, where the ruin of the Karasuno Kingdom lies. It’s an unspoken forbidden place, only those wishing to never leave dare to go there. Crunching dead leaves and twigs under your feet, you manage to find a clearing to stay for the night. Aoba Johsai is farther than you expected, but the reward of freedom encourages you to keep your head up and move forward. It’s not safe to travel at night, the forest is home to all sorts of beasts.

It’s dark, the birds have stopped their chirping as you rest in the tree. Above the ground, away from monsters lurking in shadows, you close your eyes to get some shuteye. A ear-piercing scream rips sleep from your grasp, head whipping to look for the sound. Below you, about 2 yards from your sleeping position, is a family of travelers that seem to be struggling to scare away a bear. Although it is simply a bear, the family doesn’t seem to be prepared for such a disturbance. Against your logic, your morals win as you take out an arrow and put it into your crossbow. It’s small, but your aim is good enough to get the bear’s attention, roaring as it backs up. Lodged in the shoulder, the bear retreats as it quiets down the roars. The traveling family seems to be relieved at the turn of events, but they then become rigid as you drop from the tree.

“We cannot thank you enough, dear comrade,” the man, most likely the father, says. He goes to get on his knees, but he looks to you. “What— how shall we pay you back?”

This could work, you think. “Where does your family travel to?”

“Seijoh, the Kingdom on the Water. Tales have spread that opportunities are booming and the King is kind and just,” he speaks, but then his words stumble. “I do not-! Kuroo-sama is very gracious! I would give my life for his-!”

“You can stop. I don’t hail from Nekoma, if that’s what you think. I’m from neither kingdom, instead just traveling the continent in search of a new life. Perhaps Seijoh would be the way to go? I originally was going to Nekoma, actually,” you spin the tale you’ve made for yourself, which relieves the man. He straightens his back, his height no more than your own. “Would you let me travel with you? I’ll make sure your travel is safe,”

“Of course! We’d be honored to have the person who saved our lives join us,” he bows once more, then turns to the carriage with his family. “Let’s move on!”

“Yes, let’s,” you agree, joining the man on the bench. He cracks the reins and the horse begins moving once more, as you watch for anything else. Travels alone are scary, but with an entire family looking about and a kind stranger by your side, you won’t have to worry. Getting some sleep is your main focus, now, closing your eyes and letting the man know you’re going to rest.

The carriage stops moving, jolting you from your sleep. Before you lies other carriages and caravans, stretched into a line that leads to a large waterfall. The forest is bright and the birds are chirping as a man barks orders at the families and people attempting to enter. You make small conversation with the family, given a cloak to cover yourself from the chill of the morning dew. When it is time to be inspected, you have to give kudos to King Oikawa and his kingdom, noticing how bright and welcoming his entrance is.

“What is your business in Aoba Johsai?” The man almost growls out. A loyal dog of Oikawa’s, from your earlier words, stands before you. His hair is yellow in color, dark lines running from ear to ear. He catches your gaze, eyes narrowing even more, then looks back to the man.

“A traveling family with hopes to start a new life. I’ve heard great and kind things about Oikawa-sama, so I wish to visit the Kingdom on the Water got opportunity,” It’s a believable reason, and then men searching the items the family has give the okay. The guardian of the waterfall steps back, a shallow nod before he barks orders to move. The waterfall is large and can easily drown someone with how hard and fast the water crashes to the earth. A diamond shelf is embedded in the water, two more soldiers standing on opposite ends as they part the water. Barely enough room for the carriage and family, but once inside, the water crashes back behind you.

Aoba Johsai is breathtaking.

The morning sun glimmers across the water, waves gently rising only to be quelled back down. Birds sing along with the fish jumping out of the water, only to then crash back into calming waters. Pathways built of crystal minerals, harvested from the mines of Dateko, and hold countless travelers who have come on news of the opportunities. Soldiers are posted at every archway, checking to make sure nobody has snuck past the soldiers at the waterfall. Security is top notch at this kingdom, you note, as neither Nekoma nor Fukurōdani have such strong protections before entering the main kingdom. The pathway continues into the main kingdom, the town on the water, where fishermen and merchants attempt to sell a fortune for items only available at their stalls. Your awe must have shown, as the man beside you laughs joyfully.

“Never seen such a sight before, have you?” You shake your head. “It’s beautiful. I wish we could’ve been born here instead. Lots of blues, whites, and greens.”

“I noticed the vast greenery. The open area allows for lots of plants to grow, I suppose. Rivers allow for fish to come and reproduce, as well as allow for aquatic plants. A beautiful cycle of life, with a magical kingdom in the center,” you comment.

“Well, no magic. Magic hasn’t been used in over 100 years, you know. Not since Karasuno’s king fell. Um, I think—“

“King Ukai. I remember the story told to me before bed when I was a wee child. The story of the fallen king and his kingdom.”

“Yes! King Ukai, I hardly remember him,” before he continues, he stops. “Ah, we’ll need to get a room at the Rose Inn, and let the horses stay here at the stables. Would you mind settling our horses in? That way you can explore, if you want, before reaching the inn,”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you, kind sir,” you bow to him and grasp the reins of the horses. The inn is right next to the stables, the grunts working to put the luggage into a room for the night. You smile, turning the horses into the stables. A large man stands posted outside the stables, talking with an older man.

“No problems this week? Seems like you’ve had a stroke of luck, good sir,” the soldier says, laughing as the old man laughs with him.

“I hope it stays that way. Oh, ma’am? Need us to keep your horses?” The man notices you and your eye drifts to the soldier, straightening his back as a lazy smirk appears on his face. Not very threatening with the smile, but his large stature makes you wary.

“Yes, my family is staying at the Rose Inn next door. How long can you keep the horses for?”

“We charge by the night. How much gold do you have?” You hand him the bag of coins the man gave you. He counts them, tallying up the total. “They can stay for five nights.”

“Perfect! Thank you! I’ll tell my father, now!” You now graciously, skipping off and past the guard. His eyes trail after you, but you keep your pace to the inn. You’ll have to explore later. That guard sets you on edge.

The inn is graciously spacious. There’s enough room for each traveler and the cost of the rooms is cheaper than most inns you’ve come across in Nekoma and Fukurōdani. There’s sapphire and quartz lights, flames flickering behind them as the light illuminates and projects farther than most candles. It’s innovative technology, and allows for the rooms to be more lit than dirty and dim taverns. Dinner is also better than expected, the menu being more than a sheet of paper. You order at the bar, ordering a plate of their special dinner, then sit at the bar. The men beside you are drunk, but you hope they don’t cause a scene. Something tells you that the security would deal with a bar fight quite brutally.

By the time dusk has fallen, lights flickering on as lower soldiers and owners of shops alight their street lamps, you’ve explored the town. It’s full of trusting people, so you’ve learned quite a bit. King Oikawa has a personal guard and the captain of the guard almost always by his side, whether he makes an announcement or visits down below. One man, Hanamaki Takahiro, seems to willing to joke and hang out with the townspeople, but the captain is much more stern. Iwaizumi Hajime is the name you were told. He’s dangerous, you gathered, and he’s almost always by Oikawa’s side, protecting his king from harm. As night falls, the soldiers rotate so the ones on the streets are now in the castle, as nobody else enters the kingdom after dusk. Disposable soldiers to patrol, skilled protectors inside and around the king where the nightfall can hide trespassers entering the king’s chambers.

Shedding the clothes you were given so graciously, you’re stripping off the clothes of the soldier posted at the inn. The blood flowing from his chest has turned to a large puddle, so you have to trade your shoes for the soldier’s. Larger than your own feet, but you must bear with it. Leaving the alley, you keep your head low and you pretend to patrol. A glance left. A glance right.

You’re stuck.

Soldiers manage to be spread far enough apart, but not enough. They can see where you stand. You breathe heavily and straighten your back. Time to impersonate a soldier through the night and wait for switching times. A brief memory of the dead soldier in the alley flashes, but you push it back. The body is hidden in shadows, even the sunlight in the morn wouldn’t dare shine on the corpse.

Chickens chirp and a rooster crows, soon the other life awake and the sun rises. Shedding light on your position, you look to the gate that leads into the castle. The captain of the guard stands there, opening the gate as soldiers stand tall behind him. You blend in with the other guards, standing straight as you all prepare to trade positions. However, a woman with hair black as night stands before the group. She has an air about her, but she looks familiar. Iwaizumi lets her go, having one of his shoulders go with her. He’s tall and familiar, the soldier from the stables. They pass by, but the woman catches your eye. Her eyes hold a bit of mischief and mystery, but then she’s gone and her soldier follows with her.

“Alright, switch up! You know your positions!” Captain Iwaizumi shouts. Everyone shouts their agreement and dutifully switch places. Eyes face forward, unwilling to look at the captain that seems to have his gaze focused on you. Every soldier goes their separate ways and you don’t seem to bring attention to where you go, entering a room that you and another guard seem to be assigned to.

“Don’t fuck this up, Wakashu,” the soldier beside you grunts. You glance at him, wondering if he’s talking to you, but he thankfully looks to be hyping himself up. Pushing the doors open, you understand why.

It’s the throne room.

King Oikawa sits on his throne as he chats with two people beside him — Hanamaki Takahiro and one of the guardians from the waterfall. Your hair stands on edge, noticing the familiar yellow hair and dark lines, but you attempt to quell your nervousness. The king notices you both, nodding as you both go to positions on either side of the doors. Gatekeepers, essentially.

“It’s sad to see Kiyo-chan leave so soon. I’d hope she would’ve stayed another night to think about her decision,” the king huffs and sighs, brown locks swishing side to side as he shakes his head. “Guess it can’t be helped,”

“She probably thought you were too much of a brat,” Hanamaki snickers. Oikawa huffs again, turning to his guard. “I speak the truth! You expect her to like someone like you? With a shitty personality?”

“Excuse me! My personality is perfect and women should be lining up to be my queen! I thought only Iwa-chan would be mean to me,” he pouts, cheeks puffed out. It’s almost a cute scene. Almost.

Which is promptly ruined.

The doors fling open, you and the other soldier startled by the sudden opening. Iwaizumi and another soldier are huffing as they stop before the throne. Oikawa’s eyes go from friendly to seriousness, his posture changing as he looks down on the captain and an underling. “Speak.”

“A soldier was found dead in the alley,” you and the other soldier immediately go on edge, but for different reasons. “This one found the body,”

Oikawa turns his attention to the soldier, who immediately goes rigid and explains the scene. He also mentions the boots found at the crime scene, which he has in his hand. Coated with dried blood, they’re obviously yours. The guard from the waterfall recognizes them and you panic.

“I’ve seen them before! Someone came into the kingdom with those shoes yesterday morning,” he growls out, then he looks to you, who doesn’t move a muscle. Moving would make a scene, so you of course stay still, but he stares. “You. What’s with the cut on your shirt?”

Shit.

In the dark of night, you didn’t notice the slash in the shirt. The darkened coloring prevented the blood from showing, but the slash showed that something happened. It’s not a cut like dodging a weapon, but more of a stab. Fight or flight response kicks in, so you choose the latter. You got your information, you didn’t kill Oikawa, but it’s better than getting caught. You swing the door open and shut it, bolting down the corridors as you shed the armor. Lighten the load, faster you run. It’s not long until the soldier from before stops you, tall and imposing. You’d remember those stupid eyebrows from anywhere.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He grins, but his grip is strong. You have a feeling he knew you’d be running soon. Footsteps approach behind you, then you’re pulled from the soldier’s grip and forced onto your knees. Chains are placed on your wrists and Iwaizumi grunts.

“Wonder who you’re working for,” he says. Oikawa is behind him, looking at you with the same look he gave to his soldier and Iwaizumi.

“Take her to the dungeons. I’ll see who she works for later.”

The tug of the restraints gets you off your knees, following Iwaizumi and his guard dog, the yellow haired one. Both of them prevent you from running and getting free of the restraints.

In the dungeons, you notice the materials. Similar to the pathway into the town, the dungeon bars are made of a shimmering mineral and you’re suddenly behind the bars. The restraints from before are removed, but your wrists are then placed into more chains along the ground. “Try and get out and see how well that works,” the yellow one grunts. Iwaizumi snaps his fingers and the soldier follows, leaving the dungeon.

“She’ll see soon enough, Kyotani,” the captain says, locking you in. “I’m sure the fight hasn’t completely left her,”

Then they leave. You’re all alone and you’ve failed your mission, but they’re right. You still have some fight left.

Hours pass by as you finally feel the fight leave you. There’s only one guard in the dungeons, but he’s nowhere near you. A thin man with ash brown hair stands posted at the base of the stairs, farthest from your cell. At first, you thought they lacked brains with security in the dungeons, seeing as you’re the only criminal behind bars, but the chains proved otherwise. Each movement you made, every breath you took, every grunt you voiced, the chains knew. They pulled tighter as if they had minds of their own, but they would loosen to their proper place if you were still for a certain amount of time.

Footsteps on marble stairs has you and the guard on alert. Looking towards the stairs, you see the king himself coming towards you. He smirks once he’s outside your cell. Iwaizumi stands next to him, not Hanamaki, and unlocks the door. “Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

“Well, could we help change that?”

“No.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Oikawa grins, crooked with a hint of anger. “I’ll get to the point. Who are you, who sent you, and what was your goal? I’m sure killing one of my disposable guards wasn’t the goal?” You don’t speak, so that angers him even more. It’s quick, the stinging in your jaw and the blood in your mouth the only indications his foot collided with your face. “Once more. Who are you?”

“My name is none of your business and neither is my home. My goal was to send that stupid head off your shoulders. Happy?” Your eyes stay narrowed, but he seems delighted at your answer.

“Treason, trespassing, and murder. I should kill you for this, but I wonder where you’re from,” he then has an unhinged desire in his eyes, grin splitting into something sinister. “I’ll keep you alive until you spill,”

“I’d rather eat your shoe again. What king wears white thigh-high boots, anyways? Your guards don’t respect you, they tolerate you. A worthless king with no pride, that’s all you are. I won’t bow to someone or kneel under their pressure when they have a weak resolve and no power. Admit it, you don’t run the kingdom, your soldiers do.”

A swift kick is administered, Oikawa’s breath heaving as he pants. His face is red with anger, frown evident on his face, but you’re grinning. Blood may be dripping from your mouth, but you know you’re right. He inhales sharply, then turns to Iwaizumi. “Understood,” he nods in response, leaving the keys on the wall as he goes to leave. Iwaizumi also takes the guard posted with him. You don’t understand why, but you don’t have much time to think about that.

“I may seem like a worthless king with little to no pride, but that’s all I have. My worthless pride. My guards and soldiers respect me because I am the power here,” he growls out, hand tugging on your hair that sends you collapsing against the ground. The chains pull in your arms, keeping you down as he straddles you. “You may not bow to me, but I’ll find out who you do bow to. I’ll rip every bit of fight out of you, beginning today,”

“Get off, you pervert!” Your screams echo against marble, reaching nobody’s ears. Oikawa goes to strip away the stolen clothes, eyes narrowing as he feels the dried blood against your chest. Ripping off the shirt, he exposes your breasts.

“Maybe I should take you as my royal lover, seeing as your body is supple and warm, perfect for someone to come to after a long day of work,” he grins, wicked and perverse as he looks at you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Fuck off!” You scream, legs kicking and body squirming. He sighs and shrugs.

“No use, apparently. Then, let’s see how the rest of you feels,” he licks his lips as he shuffled down your pants. He’ll have to get you some other clothes, ones with easier access than the ones of his soldiers. The pants are off and he mocking coos at you, fingers sliding around the waistband of your panties to have them snap against your skin. “Pretty. All white and innocent, aren’t you? That’s what the panties say, but I bet you’d look better in black, since you’re probably not innocent.” He doesn’t get a response, so he continues talking. “I’ll give you some blue ones later, they’ll suit your skin tone and match the bars of your holding cell. Aren’t I generous?”

He’s pulling the fabric down, your legs spread as he does. He expects your goods to be dry, absolutely unprepared, but to his surprise, glimmering strings connect your pussy to your removed panties, falling and breaking as he continues to bare yourself to him. A laugh escapes him, fingers pressing into your folds. “You’re getting off on being manhandled? Seems like you’re the pervert, sweetie,” he coos, licking a hot stripe of saliva against your cheek. It’s disgusting and revolting, but you can’t say anything against it. You’ve been in a similar position before, your body seems to not be able to tell the difference between men.

Oikawa’s fingers delve into your cunt, scissoring as he feels around. Rubbing against your walls, he’s pleased when your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, only for a hand to come and cover your mouth. It’s soon removed, the chains pulling your arm back down. Oikawa continues his violation of your most sensitive area, thumb rubbing against your clit as his fingers move and rub inside you. The building knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm coming on. You can feel it, it’s almost there, a moan escaping— then it’s gone. Oikawa’s hand has been removed, tongue flicking over the wet digits as he moans himself.

“Definitely not a virgin by the way you’re acting. A proper whore, you are,” he doesn’t expect an answer, standing on his knees as he goes to unbuckle his belt. Eyes widen as you realize he’s actually going all the way, but he just smirks down at you. Removing his cock from his pants, you stare at it. It’s almost beautiful, you think, staring at the slender cock and how it seems to just compliment his personality and how he holds himself. A hand wraps around the shaft of it, pumping as his darkened gaze lingers on your spread legs. Well, what’s between them. “Hope you’re ready,”

Although you most certainly are not, he doesn’t care. Pushing his tip into your cunt, he finds it hard to push too far. You’re not relaxed in his hold, tensed at his entrance into your velvety walls. His hand comes to your throat, pushing his thumb on your windpipe. “Any words?”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, eyes rolling as he plunges inside you. Pushing past your barriers and spreading you open wide, he’s not the biggest or longest you’ve ever had, but he’s by no means small. It takes effort to adjust to his length, but he doesn’t allow it. Once he’s in, he’s pulling out only to snap his hips back to yours. Your throat is free of his hold, his hand moving to hook your leg over his arm as his other hand is placed beside you. It’s a horrible thing, finding yourself enjoying his thrusts and how each roll of his hips seem to add to your pleasure. His own moans, much louder than yours, seem to prove he’s finding his own pleasure inside you.

Oikawa’s soon picking up his pace, his lips next to your ear as you mewl from pleasure. “Acting like a proper whore. You’d make a fine lover, chained to my side permanently,” he murmurs, lips pressing to your hot skin. He doesn’t get an answer, but he has a feeling your answer is no. Yet, he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure that he’s soon slamming his hips into you even faster. When he feels his orgasm coming, he leans back and applies pressure to your clit. Your squeal of pleasure has your walls creaming around him and sucking him in. He’s not far behind, rutting his hips against you as he spills his cum inside, your walls milking him of every drop.

When the high passes, he’s removing his limp cock from your hole as his cum oozes out. It drips and plops onto the floor beneath you, but he finds it mesmerizing. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll have to come back.

The shutting and locking of the doors tells you he’s gone, leaving the dungeons and you all alone. With his seed still gushing from your cunt, you have a feeling he’ll be visiting you tomorrow, too.

He wants to break you. You refuse to bend. Each night, you’ll find yourself looking forward to his company.

#haikyuu smut #Mr. Tōru #BB.Kinky #BB.Requests #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #oikawa x reader #tw.choking #tw.death #tw.blood #tw.degradation #tw.abuse #tw.no aftercare

191 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

Photo

Long Way to Go - Chapter 1

Ryan Brenner x OFC, Grace Lin

THANKYOU so much to @the-blind-assassin-12 for casting an eye over this and for friendship and enthusiasm and thankyou to @suchatinyinfinity and @something-tofightfor for being so friendly!

W/C: 1550 ~ Warnings: None? General audiences.

-----

It was hot as hell.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I checked the thermometer in the pastry display case. Melted cream cakes didn’t sell, and I had to keep the served-cold meat bao from spoiling, but at least the fortune cookies, red bean cakes and mochi would be good for hours.

People bustled past, some holding mini electric fans, others cooling themselves with tall iced drinks from the nearby Starbucks.

I took a deep drink from my water bottle. I’d topped up the ice cubes just ten minutes ago and they were already just a memory.

The two girls I employed cleaned tables, their hair scooped up out of their faces, chattering about some party they were off to later, and which popular boys would be attending. Their giggling made me feel every one of my thirty-two years.

The overhead fan whirled silently as the bell above the door tinkled musically, letting in a gaggle of teenagers. They kept me busy for the next few minutes, ordering a bunch of fortune cookies and bao, barely looking up from their phones as they paid me.

As one of the teenagers pulled the shop door open, a gasp of music broke my train of thought (mango or green tea cookies tomorrow?). Curious, I peered out of the window.

On the street corner, sitting against the trunk of a large tree planted in the sidewalk, a man played guitar and sang.

His head was down, but thick, dark hair peeked out from under his battered hat, the brim shading his face from view.

His voice was deep and melancholy, and it pulled at something inside me. I kept the door open, listening.

Quite a little crowd had gathered around him. His fingers danced over the guitar strings effortlessly, his low, sultry voice carrying to me on what little there was of a breeze in New York in July.

I got lost in the lyrics for a moment, and must have leaned on the door too hard. The bell tinkled and I had to hang on to avoid falling face first on the pavement.

Smooth, Lin. Real smooth.

Without skipping a beat, the busker glanced my way. His eyes were the very dark brown of expensive Swiss chocolate, concern shining in their depths.

I smiled to let him know I was okay, and his gaze moved over me for a moment. I felt every second. His eyes smiled first, and then as he finished the last note in a line, his lips curved, too, a dimple flashing above his scruffy beard, and oh. I was a goner. He was the most beautiful man I’d seen in a long time, and this was NYC, so that was saying something.

“Hey, Earth to Grace! You gonna stand there all day?”

The Brooklyn twang jerked me back to reality and I blinked, looking into the face of my delivery guy. “Sorry, Mikey.”

The bulky Asian-American grinned, casting a thumb at the busker. “He’s all right.”

I tore my gaze away again. “He sure is.”

Mikey wheeled his little hand truck to the storeroom and started to unload as I served a young woman who had questions about allergies. She read my ingredients lists and decided on three pork floss buns, the ones hot from the heated plate. Just going near it made me near-recoil with the steam that bathed my face.

As the customer paid and I thanked her, clipping a business card to the paper bag, I glanced out at the busker. He was drinking from a water bottle, his head tipped back to expose the line of his neck. The bottle was near-empty.

“Hey, Kristi?”

One of the girls I employed stopped mid-chatter to her colleague about someone called Dwayne and how dreamy he looked in a football jersey, and whipped her head round to me.

“Can you man the counter for a sec?”

She bobbed her head yes and we swapped places. I grabbed a bottle of water from the tall fridge by the door, the shaped plastic cold against my palm. I hesitated, then grabbed another.

The wall of heat enveloped me as soon as I stepped out of the door.

The busker looked up at the sound of the bell, shoulders bunching in his worn white t-shirt as I approached, as if steeling himself for something.

The crowd had thinned between songs, people put off from standing by the sheer heat of a New York summer, but the open guitar case held a bundle of notes, some fives and tens, as well as several scatterings of coins.

“Hi,” I greeted him. “Ma’am,” he drawled, softly. His smile seemed easy, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I suspected that he was wondering if I was gearing up to threaten to call the police on his ass.

I wasn’t.

I held out the bottles of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Sure am.” He smiled up at me, fingers drumming on his thigh, but he didn’t attempt to take the water. “‘S very kind of you.”

You stepped closer, offering the bottles and he finally took them from me . His hands brushed mine, his skin warm and tan, a little rough. I noticed the unusual ink on his fingers, wanted to ask, but politeness stopped me.

“Your music is beautiful,” I said as he unscrewed the first bottle, the second held between his knees.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He took a deep drink, and I tried not to feel like a letch, admiring the line of his neck, the bob of his Adam’s apple. “‘S a nice bakery you got there.”

“Thanks. I, um, never thought it’d be a thing. You know? When you dream about something for so long and when it finally comes true, you can’t believe it?”

He met my gaze. “Can’t say I know a whole lot about that.”

For the first time, I took in his attire properly - large burlap backpack, battered army-style boots, the laces frayed, the near-threadbare edges of his hat. “God. I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot-”

He shook his head, a shy little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’ be. I like it better when folks don’t have to watch their every word ‘round me. I’m Ryan.”

“I’m Grace. The idiot.” I offered a hand and he shook it, and his palm was wide and warm, a little calloused, and sparks of awareness slid up my arm.

“Do you often play around here?” I gestured to the little stretch of the Chinatown of Flushing, Queens, that my bakery sat on.

“No, ma’am. I’m a traveller. Been t’ New York before, but not this particular spot.”

“And how is this particular spot?”

Ryan drummed his fingers on his guitar thoughtfully. “‘S good. Folk are nice, for the most part.” He started on the second bottle of water, his tongue flicking out to over bottom lip after he drank. “Hot as hell, though, and I say that as a Southern boy.”

I opened my mouth to ask where in the South he hailed from, but Kristi appeared in the doorway of my shop. “Grace? Sorry, Mikey needs the auth code for this delivery.”

“Oh, sure.” I turned back to Ryan. “It was good to meet you. Your music is really fantastic.”

He ducked his head, smiling, a little shy. “Mighty kind of you, ma’am.”

By this point another little crowd had gathered, waiting to hear him sing, and I left them to it. I wished I could have the shop door open to hear him, but that would defeat the point of air conditioning.

But even so, throughout the afternoon, I kept glancing over, seeing him still there, singing. During a busy point I asked Kristi to go and bring him another bottle of water, and I saw the smile he flashed her, feeling jealous of the attention, and called myself utterly ridiculous for it. I hadn’t even known Ryan existed a couple of hours ago.

Customers thinned out. It was a weekday, and business always slowed down around six pm. I shut at seven, so at six-thirty I sent Kristi and Susan home. As they opened the door, I caught a line of song in Ryan’s soft, smooth drawl.

Nine hundred more miles, and I’ll be doin’ just fine-

When he finished, after the small crowd had dropped dollar bills and murmured their appreciation, I called out to him.

“You want to come inside? Have a cold drink? Use the air con?”

I saw the hesitation flick over his face, the trepidation mixed with curiosity, and in the end, the latter must’ve won, because he stood up.

“That’s it for today, ladies and gentlemen,” I heard him say to the people circled around him. A man tossed a couple of bills in his guitar case, and Ryan touched his hat in thanks.

The listeners dispersed, and Ryan settled his guitar in his case like a mother swaddling her baby; with utmost gentleness. And then he looked up, smiling, that dimple winking, and walked towards me.

Taglist: @agirllovespancakes

#ryan brenner x ofc #jackie x ryan fic #jackie x ryan au #ben barnes character fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

cardest · 3 years

Text

Russia playlist

Gorbachov! Tear down that wall.......and turn up this Russia playlist! The Cossacks are dancing to this one and the yaks are singing. Russia, Siberia, Moscow, St Petersburg and a cold war. It’s all here in this Russia playlist. Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

We begin the journey in Siberia and make our way across Genghis Khan territory towards Omsk and beyond. We have a look at Chernobyl, Ukraine for a look around and make our way up to Moscow, We finish up this playlist in St Petersburg. Hope you enjoy it.

RUSSIA

001 FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE 007 OST - Main theme 002 Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train 003 The Beatles - Back in The USSR 004 Iron Maiden - Mother Russia 005 Sisters of Mercy - Dominion / Mother Russia 006 Ramones - Cretin Hop 007 Sting - Russians 008 Russkaja - Peace, Love & Russian Roll 009 Robert Simon Thomas - Troika (balalaika) 010 Jello Biafra, The Guantanamo School Of Medicine - We Created Putin 011 The Cult - Siberia 012 Mastodon - Siberian Divide 013 Yes - Siberian Khatru 014 Pesnokhorki Barnaul - Cossacks songs of Siberia 015 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Siberian Love Affairs 016 The Kills - Siberian Nights 017 The Night Flight Orchestra - Siberian Queen 018 Altai Kai - Traditional Siberian music 019 Vallenfyre - My Black Siberia 020 Skyhooks - Jukebox In Siberia 021 MISERY INDEX - Siberian March 022 Wooly Mammoth - Mammoth Bones 023 Grumbling Fur - Siberian Priest 024 Iron Maiden - Genghis Khan 025 Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Night enchanted 026 The Locust - Live From The Russian Compound 027 ACCEPT - Russian Roulette 028 Cavalera Conspiracy - Genghis Khan 029 Diaframma - Siberia 030 Renaissance - Mother Russia 031 Echo & The Bunnymen - Siberia 032 Dschinghis Khan - Genghis Khan 033 Bad News - Warriors Of Ghengis Khan 034 The Hu - The great Chinggis Khan 035 Shah - Escape 036 Ray Stevens - Surfin USSR 037 Ramones - Locket Love 038 Heirs - Russia 039 The Dillinger Escape Plan - Hero of the Soviet Union 040 Natalia Albychakova - Takhpakh 041 Svetlanas - Go Fck You Self 042 Maloletka - Irkutsk Path 043 Kuban Cossack Choir - The hat all around 044 The Lords of the New Church - Russian Roulette 045 Paul Lay Trio - Irkutsk 046 Elvis Hitler - Rocking Over Russia 047 Russian Circles - 309 048 Thylacine - Irkutsk 049 Valeriy Voloshin and gruppa Pyatiletka - Irkutsk 050 DEVO - Cold War 051 Güiro Meets Russia - It's Not The World, It's You 052 Powerwolf - Nightside of Siberia 053 Altai Kai - Oilo oilo altai 054 Arkona - Yarilo 055 Depeche Mode - People Are People 056 Gorky Park - Bang 057 Igor Stravinsky - The Rite of Spring, Part 1- 3 Game of Abduction 058 Martika - Toy Soldiers 059 Transvision vamp - revolution baby 060 The Stranglers - No More Heroes 061 Gari Gari - Russian gypsy music 062 Russian Sailors - Dance Yablochka 063 Manic Street Preachers - Revolt 064 Elton John - Nikita 065 Krokus - Russian winter 066 Prince - Ronnie Talk to Russia 067 Soviet SOunds - Baikal-Amur Railroad 068 Genesis - Land of Confusion 069 Duran Duran - Planet Earth 070 Today Is The Day - The Russian Porn Ballet 071 Nytt Land - Ballad of Gjallarhorn 072 Rotting Christ - Ветры злые - (featuring Irina Zybina) 073 Metallica - Blackened 074 Anneke van Giersbergen, Árstíðir - Russian Lullaby 075 Der Kommissar - After the Fire 076 Czas relaksu - Andrzej i Eliza 077 korobushka - Folk Russian 078 Peter Gabriel - Red Rain 079 FEAR - Bomb the Russians 080 Rush - Heresy 081 RUSSKAJA - Energia 082 Megadeth - Peace Sells 083 King Crimson - One More Red Nightmare 084 Sodom - Nuclear Winter 085 Bruce Cockburn - If I Had A Rocket Launcher 086 Talisman - Hey you Horses! 087 Styx - Cold War 088 Grateful Dead - Throwing Stones 089 Gimines - Kai armonika tyliai užgros 090 EXHUMED - Coins Upon the Eyes 091 Mastodon - The Czar 092 CCCP - American Soviets 093 Sapce Rockit - Supersonik Elektronik 094 Septic Flesh - The Eldest Cosmonaut 095 Quicksand - Cosmonauts 096 Arkona - Zimushka 097 Abracadabra - Damned Dances 098 Pink Floyd - Two Suns In The Sunset 099 Prince - 1999 100 Trololo Guy - Sean Sell Duck with Fake Subtitles ( Buffalax Style ) 101 Armonika - Gromatele Parašiau 102 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Vodka Inferno 103 Accept - Balls to the wall 104 Killing Joke - New Cold War 105 UB40 - The Earth Dies Screaming 106 RAMONES - Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (My Brain Is Hanging Upside) 107 TCHAYOK - Zavarka - Mi-minable 108 COH - Soii Noir 109 Vircator - Tunguska 110 Scorpions - China White 111 Tears For Fears - Everybody Wants To Rule The World 112 The Stalin - 解剖室 113 KAIRA - OХ РA 114 Alexander Robotnick - Ce n'est q'un début 115 Tunguska Electronic Music Society - Alpha Kawu 116 Arkona - Odna 117 Cist - Antisceptic 118 Sabaton - Nuclear Attack 119 Leningrad Cowboys - Katjusha 120 PRONG - Rude Awakening 121 Imperial Age - And I Shall Find My Home 122 Так - пела метель 123 Fear Konstruktor - Nonexistence 124 Oneohtrix - Russian Mind 125 Police - Every Breath You Take 126 dEpEchE modE - Two Minute Warning 127 Ultravox - Dancing With Tears In My Eyes 128 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Love Missile F1-11 129 Metallica - Fight Fire With Fire 130 David Bowie - Heroes 131 woven hand - my Russia 132 Survivor - Burning Heart (Rocky IV OST) 133 Forest - As a Shade Above This Land 134 Tesla - Modern Day Cowboy 135 Colossus Form - Son Of Nature 136 The Flying Lizards - Russia 137 Djivan Gasparyan - A Cool Wind Is Blowing 138 Iron Driver (feat. Pasha Mrachek) - Prisoner of time 139 Pussy Riot - CHAIKA 140 Boris Alexandrov - Катюша (Katyusha) 141 DEVO - Going Under 142 Motor - Yak 143 Nuclear Assault - Nuclear War 144 Edward Artemiev - Station (Solaris OST) 145 Soviet Valves - Puritan Blues 146 Verasy - Polet 147 FAVALLI - Yuri Gagarin 148 Wolfmother - Cosmonaut 149 Yuri Gagarin - Psychological Discontinuity 150 Witchfinder General - Soviet Invasion 151 Korrozia Metallah - Russian Vodka 152 Russkaja - Kosmopolit 153 Dio - Gypsy 154 The The - slow train to dawn 155 Blues Pills - Gypsy 156 Rush - Red Lenses 157 Corey Hart - Komrade Kiev 158 Master - Metal Doctor 159 Howlin Rain - Phantom In The Valley 160 ARKONA - Liki Bessmertnykh Bogov 161 Pitchblack - IHATEU 162 Ozzy Osbourne - Killer of Giants 163 Scorpions - Wind of Change 164 Yat kha - Chorumal Bodum 165 Nadezhda Babkina, Russkaja Pesnja 166 Ramones - Here Today, Gone Tomorrow 167 Russian radio - red flag 168 Manicure - Atomic Summer 169 The Dillinger Escape Plan - The Threat Posed By Nuclear Weapons 170 Love Among Freaks - Berserker 171 ARIA - HERO OF ASPHALT 172 Temnozor - Fatherland 173 Walknut - Motherland Ostenvegr 174 Weird Al Yankovic - Now That's What I Call Polka! 175 Underworld - Underneath the Radar 176 Skyclad - Polkageist 177 Helloween - Russian Roulé 178 John Coltrane - Russian Lullaby 179 Julian Cope - russian revolution blues 180 Rodrigo y Gabriela - The Russian Messenger 181 Kate Bush - Babooshka 182 ВИА - Чаривни гитары 183 Mastodon - The Last Baron 184 Hovert – Omyt 185 Minsk - Consumed by Horizons 186 Kypck - Stalingrad 187 Def Leppard - Gods of war 188 Black Country Communion - Big Train 189 Sabaton - Stalingrad 190 Doomsquad - Russian Gaze 191 Soviet Soviet - Human Nature 192 Murray head - one night in bangkok 193 The Korgis - Young n Russian 194 Chelsea Light Moving - Communist Eyes 195 Helix - Champagne Communist 196 UDO - Train Ride In Russia 197 Mr Weebl - Russian Dancing Men 198 Jamie Jones - Siberian Express 199 They Might Be Giants - Sold My Mind to the Kremlin 200 Ed Khuild - lolololololololol 201 Sepultura - Itsari 202 Vy Pole - Enormous 203 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow 204 Gogol Bordello - Gypsy Auto Pilot 205 Buffalex - Horse Eat My Nipple 206 Municipal Waste - Wolves of Chernobyl 207 Drudkh - Cursed Sons II 208 Chernobyl - A song for the fallen 209 Russkaja - Hometown Polka 210 Toxic Holocaust - Out of the Fire 211 Hail Caesar! Soundtrack - 19 Soviet Man 212 The Blow Monkeys - The Man From Russia 213 The Devil's Blood - The Anti-Kosmik Magick 214 Orchid - Cosmonaut of Three 215 Vergeltung - Cold War 216 KYPCK - Alleya Stalina 217 Cabaret Voltaire - Calling Moscow 218 Red Army Choir - Polyushka Polye 219 Iron Curtain - Ready To Strike 220 Porcupine Tree - Russia on Ice 221 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - 21st Century Boy 222 Al Stewart - Roads to Moscow 223 The Rolling Stones - Sympathy For The Devil 224 Soviet Soviet - ecastacy 225 KREMLIN - Will You Feed Me 226 AC/DC - Heatseeker 227 ANJ - Gorbachev 228 Katyusha (Катюша) - Aleksandr Marshal & Valeria Kurnushkina 229 ARKONA - Stenka Na Stenku 230 Black Obelisk - The wall 231 Skyclad - Catherine at the Wheel 232 Pussy Riot - Kropotkin-vodka (Kill the sexist!) 233 Brian Eno -- Stedelijk 234 Zola Jesus - Siphon 235 Insect Inside - The First Shining of New Genus 236 MR. ZIVAGO - Little Russian 237 The Real McKenzies - Midnight Train to Moscow 238 Red Army OST - KGB 239 The Toasters - Night Train to Moscow 240 Thy Catafalque - Urania 241 The Apogee - Hieronymus Bosch 242 Sabaton - Panzerkampf 244 RUSSKAJA - Barada 245 Oneohtrix Point Never - KGB Nights 246 Faith No More - A Small Victory 247 Mike and the mechanics - A Call To Arms 248 Michael Jackson - Stranger In Moscow 249 Blondie - Contact In Red Square 250 Rammstein - Moskau 251 Pseudogod - deathwomb 252 KGB - Subway Sleepwalker 253 Igor Butman Big Band - Moscow at 3am 254 Genghis Khan - Moscow 255 Demon - Blue Skies In Red Square 256 Type O Negative - The Profit of Doom 257 COH - Red Square 258 Cougars - Red Square 259 Ray Conniff - Moscow Nights 260 INDIANS IN MOSCOW - Indians in Moscow 261 Radio Moscow - 250 Miles 262 Kingdom Come - Crown of Moscow 263 Powerwolf - Moscow after dark 264 U.D.O. - Decadent 265 System Of A Down - Störagéd 266 Closure In Moscow - Pink Lemonade 267 VIBRATORS - DISCO IN MOSCO 268 IRA PETROWA - MOSKAUER NÄCHTE 269 Visage - Moon Over Moscow 270 Farmers Market - Red Square Dance 271 Wonderland - Moscow 272 Courtney Pine - Red Square Gagarinesk 273 Stray Cats - Storm The Embassy 274 German Shepherds - Communist Control 275 Moloko - Radio Moscow 276 March of the defenders - Moscow 277 Takako Nishizaki - Podmoskovnye vechera( Moscow Nights) 278 Simple Minds - Moscow Underground 279 The Spotnicks - Moscow 280 The Russian Jazz Quartet - Journey from Moscow 281 Bob Crewe Generation - Miniskirts In Moscow 282 MODERN TROUBLE - FLY TO MOSCOW 283 Gorky Park - Moscow Calling 284 BB Gabor - Moscow Drug Club 285 Doe Maar - De bom 286 Manicured noise - Moscow 287 Russkaja - Ras Dwa Tri 288 PLANET P PROJECT - Armageddon 289 Clan of Xymox - Muscoviet Musquito 290 Gogol Bordello - 60 REVOLUTIONS 291 Uriah Heep - Gypsy 292 Living Colour - Cult Of Personality 293 The Hollies - Russian Roulette 294 Kenny Ball and His Jazzmen - Red Square 295 Frank Chacksfield - Under Moscow Skies 296 Thomas Dolby - Eastern Bloc 297 The Redskins - Kick Over The Statues 298 The Alchemist - Moscow Mornings - Sunrise 299 N.O.T.A. - Moscow 300 Svetlanas - Where Is My Borscht? 301 Against Me! - Russian Spies 302 James Horner - Gorkij park (Gorky Park 1983) OST 303 Hetalia Russia - Moscú 304 Roberto Jacketti & The Scooters - Moscow Nights 305 Ram J Holder - The Blues in Moscow 306 Ivan Rebroff sings Russian folk songs - Moscow nights 307 Jethro Tull - Crest Of A Knave Said She Was a Dancer 308 Men At Work - Its a Mistake 309 Skeewiff - Moscow Mule 310 The Clash - Ivan Meets G.I. Joe 311 Captain Sensible - Glad its all over 312 Ulfdallir - Steel Armor 313 Arkona - Oi Ti ne Vecher (Oh Not That Evening) 314 Lena Katina - No Voy A Olvidarte 315 JOHNNY M5 - Moscow Nights 316 Eddy Huntington - U.S.S.R. 317 Selsius - Moscow 318 WINTERUS - MOSCOW 319 Mr. Zivago - Love in Moscow 320 Brutto - Moscow Calling 321 Udo Lindenberg - Moskau 322 Aliza Kashi - Moscow Nights 323 Angelic Upstarts - Last Tango In Moscow 324 ASIA - Russian Dolls 325 Blaze Bayley & Thomas Zwijsen - Russian Holiday 326 Kate Bush - Breathing 327 Roger Waters and David Bowie - When the wind blows 328 Roky Erickson & The Aliens - Sputnik 329 Moscow - Orange Juice 330 Ivan Rebroff - Cossack Patrol 331 Alexandr Gradsky - Как молоды мы были 332 James Horner - Gorky Park - Following KGB 333 B.T.R - Moscow City 334 Gogol Bordello - Hats Off To Kolpakoff 335 CCCP - Sputnik [Cosmos] 336 Russkaja - Go Sputnik 337 Red Spektor - Cosmonaut 338 Bald Red Lady - Cosmonaut 339 Ulver - Russian Doll 340 Hawkwind - Sputnik Stan 341 Bad Acid Trip - Putin Fears Pussy 342 Queensryche - Operation Mindcrime 343 Dark Tranquillity - Arkhangelsk 344 TOTAL REJECTS (This Night) I'm Going To Be Destroyed 345 Manic Street Preachers - The Next Jet to Leave Moscow 346 Billy Joel - Leningrad 347 Victor Smolski - The Heretic 348 Boney M - Rasputin 349 Type O Negative - Tripping A Blind Man 350 Leningrad Cowboys - Leningrad 351 Accept - Stalingrad 352 Russian Folk Music - Russian Winter 353 Cavalera Conspiracy - Rasputin 354 Kontrust - Rasputin 355 Bersarin Quartett - St. Petersburg 356 Folkearth - From Volga to Bosphorus 357 Anastasia - Rumor in St. Petersburg 358 Retox - Soviet Reunion 359 Fireside - Let Rasputin Do It 360 Mastodon - Oblivion 361 St.Petersburg Ska Jazz Review - Volga River Boat Man 362 THERION - The Khlysti Evangelist 363 The Mountain Goats - Evening in Stalingrad 364 Rage - Soul Survivor 365 Indigo Girls - Closer to Fine 366 ARKONA - Slavsia Rus 367 Russian Folk Music - Kalinka (balalaika) 368 Catch 22 - The Decembrists Song 369 Joanna Stingray - City of Lenin 370 Aria - Attila 371 KAUAN - Khurum 372 Balalaika Ensemble Wolga - Cossacks Dance 373 The Liminanas - Russian Roulette 374 Vasiliy Shumov - Porridge 375 U.D.O. - I GIVE AS GOOD AS I GET 666 Russkaja - Change

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

#russia #moscow #russian playlist #russian songs #siberia #russkaja #arkona #rasputin #leningrad cowboys #cavalera conspiracy #cossack #type o negative #svetlanas #pussy riot #cold war music

33 notes · View notes

infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years

Text

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

33 notes · View notes

irene-sadler · 3 years

Text

severe thunderstorm warning

but wait theres more

a tropical storm is rollin through town so it is absolutely disgusting outside and (mostly unrelated) i was up until 2 am yesterday/this morning b.c i decided to watch the stupid seattle mariners steelheads go into extra innings yet again (tfw ur a fan of a west coast team and u live 4 timezones away so the 10th inning takes place at 1 in the morning)

anyway during that time i wrote a lil follow up to the executioner so nobody will hate me until uh

the actual follow up is written which at my usual pace will be in approximately october.

yw enjoy todays double header of hot nonsense this one’s called

Severe Thunderstorm Warning:

A week had passed, and even if she’d maybe made up her mind, she still hadn’t actually talked to Reynard about it.

In her defense, nonstop days in the saddle interrupted only by an all out battle with a Nilfgaardian relief force and a followup skirmish with their baggage train guards hadn’t left much time for side conversations. By night, the army either marched or caught a few hours of sleep when it was too dark to keep moving. She could count the number of words she’d exchanged with Reynard about something unrelated to the wounded, the condition of the bridges they used and the towns they passed, or the unpleasant but not undrinkable casks of acidic wine they’d captured on two hands. Most of them were just greetings, offered in the morning with his usual overdeveloped sense of social protocol, at night with a hint of some underlying emotion to suggest he actually meant them. It almost made her nostalgic for the days when her total forces were, more or less, a ragged collection of highwaymen with slings, a half unit of Lyrian pikemen, and a stray dog.

On the other hand, she wouldn’t exactly be able to rush to the Aedirnian’s rescue without the trailing, dusty, exhausted mass of soldiers that snaked along the road under the baking afternoon sun, from one end of the flat horizon to the other, and she didn’t have enough men, maybe, even then. A big enough opposing force with a little more rest, a few more horses, and a following wind might be able to take them out. A private conversation was a small price to pay for an army that could probably hold its own in the field, with even odds.

“Storm’s coming,” Gascon announced, riding in from the head of the column with a scout and a thick cloud of dust trailing him. She snapped back to the present and looked skyward. A hawk or vulture crossed far overhead, almost too small to see. There were a few, smallish, grayish clouds drifting gently across the endless blue, and, above those, the edge of a very high, white cloud cover that might set in overnight and block the moon. She hoped she was wrong; she couldn’t march in total darkness, and the loss of four or five hours of moonlight would set them back seven or eight hours of actual travel time.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Reynard glanced upward and then shrugged at her when she looked back down.

“Uh. Metaphorically?”

“No,” Gascon said. “Literally. It’s crossin’ the plain fast, will be in sight pretty soon. Tipper, here, thinks it’ll be a bad one.”

“Lot of lighting in them clouds,” the scout noted, squinting. “Looks just like th’ one from last week, if you ask me; don’t like t’ be out here in th’ open when it hits, but nowhere else t’ go -”

“How much time do we have?” she asked, interrupting the man’s lecture, which seemed to be going nowhere fast. Gascon glanced behind himself, toward a vague, pale smudge on the northeastern horizon.

“Thirty minutes?”

“More like ten,” the scout said.

“Better stop the column, then,” she said, resisting the urge to swear pointlessly and waste a few irreplaceable seconds. “Gascon - ride up to the front - have ‘em spread out, stay low to the ground. Reynard -”

“The back,” he said, immediately, wheeling his horse around. “I’m on it.”

The supply wagons wouldn’t be able to drop out of the wind and lightning in the open field, and would have to circle around and hope for the best, but she didn’t have to tell him that. He could do his job without her. She focused on the middle, diverting riders and scouts up and down the column with orders for every junior officer and NCO they came across. The result was that, as a black cloud blocked out the blue sky and the air abruptly shifted from dead still to a gusty breeze headed toward it, the army came to a grinding halt and spread out, laying out under canvas tarps and cloaks until the plain was dotted with clustered shelters. Loose horses drifted among them groups, ears tilted back.

It would have to do, she thought, reviewing the sprawling, messy product of her efforts. If the storm was as bad as it looked like it would be, it was all they could do. She dropped off her twitchy, unhappy horse, turned it loose to fend for itself with the others, and realized that her own cloak was somewhere with the faraway baggage.

She squinted up at the boiling cloud overhead and frowned dubiously. The wind had died again. Thunder rumbled nonstop in the distance and crashed overhead. It didn’t look good, she had to admit, and she was lucky to have a scout who could read the signs. If she hadn’t gotten ahead of the storm by a few minutes, it would have been a disaster. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much chance of getting her cloak or even a jacket before the rain started. She’d been caught unprepared and there was nothing she could do about it.

It could always be worse, she told herself, pointedly. She spent a minute with her cavalry commander, come up on foot to report that his units had made themselves fast as much as possible.

“Can’t answer for the horses, though,” he said. “We had to let ‘em go, on the chance this’ll be one of them hurricanes.”

“Hurricanes?”

“Whirlwinds.”

“Yes. Good idea,” she said, picturing the havoc one of those would cause. She doubted there would be one, but -

“You just never know what might happen,” the Colonel noted.

“No. Good luck,” she said. “Once this clears out, we’ll be back on the move.”

Eventually, if everything went perfectly. She didn’t have to voice the thought; he knew what could go wrong. He saluted and headed off toward a distant fork of lighting from the ground to the clouds. The wind suddenly picked up again as soon as he left, gusted toward the clouds, then back in the opposite direction, bringing a strong smell of rain and a strange, greenish cloud with it. She squinted at it. It was like rain, traveled along the ground like rain, but it was the wrong color. By the time she realized that it was a cloud of blowing grass and dust it was too late to duck before the mess hit her right in the eyes. She turned away from the wind, got caught up in the stinging hail that instantly followed it, and stumbled directly into something solid. Whatever it was caught hold of her by the shoulders before she could push off of it; she squinted at it and recognized Reynard in time to keep herself from decking him. He said something that the thunder drowned out. She shook her head.

“Come on,” he shouted, into her ear. She let him drag her onto the ground, under the dirty gold cape he held over their heads. It was just about big enough to cover both of them, if they huddled close together. Another few inches and she would be sitting in his lap. It wasn’t like she was entering unprecedented territory; she told herself to not think too hard about it.

“Where’s your cloak?” he asked. She shrugged.

“Somewhere in the baggage train. Where’d you come from?”

“There. I had time to grab mine,” he said, paused, for a deafening crash of thunder, seemed to be out of things to say afterward. The hail stopped banging off the cloth over their heads. A waterfall of rain followed it.

“What a mess,” she said.

“It’ll clear up soon.”

He was maybe three inches away from her. She was extremely aware that the last time she was this close to him she had been in his bed. He glanced away, like the same thought had crossed his mind. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t much else for him to look at; he was back to watching her, a little warily, a second or two afterward. She had plenty of things she could talk about, and one or two she should talk about, but the words just weren’t coming to her.

If she kissed him, nobody would know about it, she noted to herself, instead of trying to find any. It would be easy; he was literally right there, watching her with a slightly too intense look in his eye. She had told him she was thinking their relationship, whatever it was, over, but she had always known what she was going to do. She just hadn’t had the time or the place. or the words to tell him. This was not any of those things. It was damp, because the cape was leaking slightly, and a little awkward, and she could barely hear herself think over the rain and thunder. Nothing about the situation was convenient for an extremely personal and delicate conversation.

“I had a weird chat with Gascon, the other night,” she said, instead. He looked vaguely confused, like he had expected something else.

“What about?”

——

It was two in the morning, probably, and they were still marching under the light of a dwindling half-moon. She was pretending she wasn’t tired and sore. Everyone else seemed to be half-asleep on their feet, at best.

“Good morning, Meve,” Gascon said brightly, riding up next to her and interrupting her wandering mind. “You’re looking pensive and thoughtful. What gives?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, lately, you’ve been mostly surly and unapproachable. Which, don’t get me wrong, is a good look on you, but this one’s a little less terrifying.”

She frowned at him and decided there was no particularly good response to the comment.

“You want an apple? I stole some from th’ orchard we passed earlier.”

He held one out, with the same encouraging smile he used when he offered his dog a bone. She squinted at the offering. It was definitely a crabapple, and definitely not really ripe. Her stomach growled anyway.

“Yes, all right.”

She caught it in midair; he waited for her to eat half of it before he asked, casually, “So. What are you thinking about?”

She shrugged vaguely. When she wasn’t thinking about Villem or coming up with a dozen schemes and contingency plans for the next day, week, month, she was mostly thinking about Reynard. By unspoken consent, they had carefully avoided being alone together at any point in the last couple of days. The distance hadn’t made her feel any better. The only good thing about the situation was she was pretty sure nobody had noticed anything different.

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Silent treatment, is it? Been taking notes from Reynard lately?”

Nobody except Gascon, apparently. She raised an eyebrow at him, warningly. He blithely ignored it.

“Or maybe you already had that little strategy down. You have known each other for a long time, after all. How long’s it been?”

She cleared dust out of her throat. The question seemed harmless. She didn’t see any reason to not answer it.

“Uh. Eighteen years. Maybe more.”

“That long, huh?”

He had a curious gleam in his eye. She eyed him cautiously.

“What was he like back then?”

She thought about it for a minute.

“Well, I was - nineteen? So he was, what, maybe twenty-two? He was - I don’t know - about like he is now, only younger.”

She had met Reynard at the same time as all her new husband’s other knights. She hadn’t really noticed anything particularly interesting about him specifically, at the time, if she was honest. He was young, barely said anything because he was so stiff with nerves and propriety, and had a patchy mustache he was trying to grow out, to make himself look older. The stiffness had largely survived the years, as a defense mechanism. The mustache, fortunately, hadn’t. She smiled a little; they had both gotten older and wiser, or, at least, less insecure. She wondered what they would be like in another twenty years.

“You’re drifting again,” Gascon said. She snapped back to the present and eyed him.

“What?”

“Oh, you know; I bring up Reynard, you get this faraway look in your eyes and start staring off at nothin’. It’s a thing you’ve been doin’, lately. You should probably be more careful; people are bound t’ notice. Other people, I mean.”

The side-eye turned to a glare; she turned her full attention on him.

“What do you mean, exactly, Brossard? And keep your voice down, for once.”

“Well,” he said, carefully, “I mean, I know you didn’t go dig through the stash we had in the closet, back in Rivia Castle; only two people had keys to it, far as I know - me and the quartermaster. Carver didn’t stir between midnight and dawn, like usual, and I had mine on me the whole time. Doubt you wandered off t’ look at the scenery for a couple hours, and I couldn’t help noticin’ that Reynard bunked not twenty feet away from your room -”

“So?”

“So, maybe, that’s where you were that night. Maybe. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention this, uh, theory of mine t’ anyone. If it’s true, far as I’m concerned, it’s your business. Well, yours and his.”

“Then why bring it up?”

He tilted his hat back a little, considered her suspicious face in the torchlight.

“Because you look kind of miserable, if I’m honest. Did your chat after the Lester affair go that bad?”

“No,” she said, looking ahead again, trying to pretend she wasn’t miserable, just tired. “No, not exactly. It’s - it’s complicated.”

“You keep saying that,” he said. “Not everything has to be complicated, you know.”

——

“Complications,” she said, vaguely. Reynard didn’t look any less confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean anything. Listen,” she said, deciding maybe Gascon was right, just this once, in this very specific situation, “If I kissed you, right now, would it change anything between us?”

He blinked at her.

“No.”

A trickle of cold water seeped through the cape and ran into her hair. She shifted forward, away from it and toward him, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, slightly uncertainly for a second or two, but when she moved closer and slid her right hand around the back of his neck his lips opened slightly and she could tell he stopped thinking about it. He was busy maintaining their ineffective shelter, but she had nothing in particular to do with her hands; she felt the pulse pounding in his throat with her left, ran her right through the short hairs on the back of his head, and let the electric feeling that crawled across her skin and the thundering in her ears drown out her thoughts until, after what felt like not much time at all, he gently pulled his head back.

“Wind’s stopping,” he whispered. She paused, listening for the real thunder, from the storm. It still crashed overhead, but less often than it had before and mostly somewhere far off to the south; the rain had slowed from a waterfall to a minor downpour, and he was right about the wind. It had shifted direction again, to a gentler crossing breeze that smelled like the oncoming evening. She almost wished it wouldn’t, and the storm would keep going, but time passed whether she wanted it to or not. There were a lot of things she couldn’t control.

If she was honest, given a few more minutes, she would be one of those things.

“Damn,” she said, under her breath. “Just when things were going so well. Nothing can ever be easy.”

“Complications,” he agreed, an ironic smile crossing his face that made her heart stop for a second. “What now?”

“This,” she said and kissed him again for a long moment that felt like it would crash and burn if it went on. She dragged it out as much as she could, anyway, until a little voice in the back of her mind started warning that any more would result in them being discovered, or a Nilfgaardian cavalry unit would ride over the horizon while she was distracted, or someone would slip and fall on the wet grass, stab themselves on their own dagger, and trigger a day-long safety brief - or some other disaster would happen. He looked her in the eyes for the second or two more that she let herself waste, smiled slightly, like he knew what she was thinking, and then she forced herself away from him, out of the shelter of his cape and into the drizzle. A hint of blue sky was showing through the darkness on the northern horizon. The army was still battened down around them. An offended cluster of horses stood around a hundred yards away, dripping. Reynard carefully shook water off his cape and frowned disapprovingly around at the disorder.

“About time we got going,” she agreed, reaching a hand toward him. He took it; she pulled him to his feet, smiled up at him for another strangely long second, and let him go.

“I’m on it,” he said.

#witcher #thronebreaker #fanfic #romance #oneshot #bottle episode #mariners baseball :<

9 notes · View notes

mangobilorian · 4 years

Text

Cooperation | (explicit)

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 5085

read first chapter

Summary: You fully intend to get a night alone with your captain.

Even if it means disguising yourself and outrunning rabid paparazzi.

Many people think that princesses live in indulgence. Opulent palaces, luxurious vacations, rare fashion. They’re not wrong; most of the time you find yourself living a more expensive life than the majority of the galaxy. But the galaxy is at war. A war that your planet, including many others, was dragged into. A war that blurs the edges between right and wrong, loser and victor. In wartime, there’s little to celebrate except for winning battles. However, despite the war sowing chaos and famine and death among your people, you can say, with confidence, that there's one good outcome to come of it: Rex.

Rex has been your one indulgence in the entire war, ever since the first attack on your diplomatic mission to now, nestled next to him in a dark alleyway. You would never be caught in such a scandalous position, your head nuzzled into his neck, arms wrapped tight around his armored body. The thought of getting caught, ruining your reputation, and potentially being cast off from your family occurs to you almost immediately, but— wrapped in the comfort of Rex’s arms— you can ignore the impending consequences for a bit longer.

“Are they gone?”

“Hopefully. Let’s wait for a bit longer,” Rex says, voice a filtered whisper above your head. He leans back, eyeing you through his visor. It’s not his usual helmet, no blue paint or jaig eyes or tally marks. No, he wears a simple white one to match his mostly-new, slightly scuffed armor. You remember him telling you that he swiped it off a shiny. The disguise worked of course; since the army is made up of identical men, civilians won’t bat an eye. As for your disguise… you should have worn better makeup and maybe a less transparent headdress. Or possibly a sturdier one? Honestly, you should have dressed up as anyone but a Pantoran. Oh well. You didn’t listen to Riyo when she said the plan wouldn’t work, but it’s not her place to talk when she has her own clone commander to sneak out with.

“You good? How’s the makeup holding up?” You frown. The blue paint already faded from your fingers long ago when you first held a cold glass of beer. It was an amateur move, and you’ll use better body paint next time. If there is a next time.

“I feel sticky. And hot.” Rex chuckles, causing you to rock in his arms.

“We did run around Coruscant.” He lifts a finger to your cheek and wipes. “Yeah, the yellow is completely gone.” Of course. The distinctive Pantoran markings were the first to go once you and Rex started fleeing. Rex peers over your shoulder and slowly detaches himself. You try not to whine at the loss of contact, but you do anyway, and Rex gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on.” His hand warms your own and, despite being slightly overheated due to an unforeseen chase, you welcome it.

Together, you dart between buildings and people. As you near a more commercial area, the crowds begin to grow. Rex separates himself, opting to walk a few paces behind. Even with the headdress on, you make sure to duck your head. No one questions Rex since the armor is a big enough deterrent. When you see two Coruscant guards, you force yourself to keep moving. It would be more suspicious for you to wait for a random clone trooper talking to his brothers.

By the time they reach Rex, you’re far enough ahead that you can’t make out their conversation. As much as you want to hide and wait for him so you can maintain a reasonable distance, you have another task at hand. You hail down a speeder cab, making small talk with the droid driver. Just before you speed off, you turn to Rex, a few meters behind. He scratches his helmet, once, twice. To anyone else, it wouldn’t be anything of note. To you, it’s a sign that he understands. Feeling reassured, you speed off.

The entire ride through the busy Coruscant night traffic is in complete silence. While the droid tries to make some conversation, your mind is entirely focused on one clone captain. The last time you both had the chance to meet was around three standard months ago. His recent campaign had been a long one, and he didn’t want to talk about it. You understand. It’s hard to lose fellow soldiers. It’s even harder when they’re your own brothers.

Despite not having any siblings of your own (courtesy of the strict regulations on the ruling family), you know what it’s like to lose the ones you care about. The last three months have been hard on you too: traveling all over the galaxy, passing legislation at home, dealing with scheming politicians. But the majority of your worry centered around Rex and how he was doing. It's sad, you think, that the moment he got back, he had to immediately deal with the complexity of your relationship.

He never explicitly told his brothers about you, but they know him well enough to read between the lines. Especially Kix. The medic figured out Rex’s feelings before he even confessed. He never compromised his duties, but suspicious marks on his neck and sneaking out at random hours only added to the theories. You worried that the rumor mill would spread, and your relationship would reach your parents.

While you might be stripped of your title as princess or forced to marry someone else, Rex faces the very real threat of decommissioning. Or reconditioning. Thankfully, the clones only gossiped amongst themselves. So while an entire battalion could know certain, scandalous details, no one else (not even their commanding Jedi) would know.

When Rex got back, you planned a simple date night at a bar with him. With precautions and his brothers’ discreet help, of course. He had to dress up as a shiny since, as Anakin Skywalker’s second in command, he was among the most recognizable clones. For you, a princess who’s friends with multiple senators, the spotlight isn’t new. Everything was going well, and you were well on your way to being tipsy. But—as odds have it— you were spotted. The people who saw you hounded you with questions. What neither you nor Rex knew at the time, was that a female Pantoran celebrity landed on Coruscant the day before. The media hoped to catch a glimpse of her and, despite your yellow tattoos looking nothing like hers, they latched onto you. And the fact that a clone trooper was next to you. You sincerely hope the real Pantoran won’t suffer too much from the media’s onslaught.

The droid’s robotic voice jolts you out your thoughts. Fumbling a bit, you insert a credit chit (a temporary, untraceable one), and hop off. The apartment building itself isn’t that discrete. While the building doesn’t reek of poverty, it pales in comparison to your regular Coruscant residence. You think of the handmaidens and guards you tricked and hope they aren’t too mad you snuck out.

Sighing, you enter the unit and flick on some lights when something grabs you. It’s a testament to your upbringing that you don’t scream outright. Or attack back. The attacker in question begins laughing, a full-bellied, happy laugh. You’d smile if it weren’t at your expense.

There, grinning from ear to ear, Rex stands, one hand on your arm.

“How did you get here before me?” He shrugs, leading you further into the unit and tossing you a pack of wipes.

“Skipper and Boot dropped me off two buildings down.” Ah. The two Coruscant guards, you suspect. You begin wiping the blue paint off your face and neck first before moving onto your hands.

“They weren’t suspicious?” Rex gives you a little grin before sliding a hand to your backside and giving a little squeeze. You yelp, more out of how uncharacteristic it is than surprise. You try to levy a glare, but his smug face is too much of a deterrent. Bastard. Hot, sexy, romantic bastard.

“I’m not the first clone who snuck off to an apartment building. And since I look shiny, they were even more willing.” He takes the wipe from your hand, rubbing at the spots you miss, and you have to stop from swooning at how sweet he is.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, something about ‘little brothers growing up.’ I told them I had a hot Pantoran waiting for me, and they broke half a dozen laws to get me here.” You raise a brow, a smile tugging at your lips.

“That eager, huh?”

“Always,” Rex whispers. It occurs to you, just now, how close you are. Sometime during your conversation, Rex had maneuvered you to press against his armorless chest, one hand on your waist, the other on your lower back. He tugs you even closer, and you can feel the hardness of his muscles beneath his skin-tight blacks. You realize, with some disappointment, that you’re still fully clothed in a heavy outfit, cloak, and headdress. Rex seems to have the same realization, and he leans down to steal a kiss.

You let him, closing your eyes and reveling in the steady, comforting way his lips move against yours. A hand slides up your shoulders, and you hear the gentle thud of your cloak falling. The fresh air against your now bare arms makes you gasp, and Rex takes the opportunity to brush his tongue on the roof of your mouth. You shudder, head already swirling at the sensation.

Rex leads you with a steady grip on your waist. You don’t bother separating, and stumble a bit. He catches you, and you giggle, breath mixing with his own. The ground moves beneath you before something hard presses into the backs of your knees. You open your eyes just as you tumble backwards into the bed, headdress already discarded. Rex gives you a smile, trying to be seductive but looking much too adorable. You can’t help but laugh. He flushes, the beautiful red decorating his dark skin, and his cuteness increases tenfold. It gives you whiplash, honestly, how someone so hot and sturdy can be a total, bumbling sweetheart.

Hands grab at the closures on the side of your dress, and you shift downwards to allow the garment to slip off. Rex throws the dress to the side, and if it were anyone else, you’d complain. The dress, despite being a disguise, is still a collector’s item from Alderaan’s latest fashion season. But, since Rex was the one to haphazardly throw the dress equivalent of priceless art on the ground, you hold your tongue. Actually, you open your mouth, but only to let Rex slide his tongue into it.

Moaning around his lips, you feel the rest of your undergarments loosen and fall aside. In your haze, you grasp at Rex’s biceps, pleased at the strength under his muscles. You slide a hand down his chest, feeling every hard plane, every dip. Rex pulls off you for a moment, eyes wandering over your exposed body. He unzips his blacks hastily, almost desperately, and you mourn about the fact that you didn’t have enough time to admire Rex in his blacks. It’s a simple protective undergarment, but the way it hugs his body is much too tantalizing for you.

You sit up on the bed, bracing yourself on your elbows, and watch. The material clings to his skin, even as he wiggles out of it. It’s tempting to say that he strips sexily. With his darkened eyes and languid movements, Rex definitely looks like a seasoned man. But the concentration on his face alongside the uncooperative fabric makes him seem all too adorable. You want to laugh again but opt for sending him a smile instead. Just because Rex’s ego isn’t high doesn’t mean you should damage it right before sex.

You don’t bother hiding your appreciation as he reveals more skin. Finally, after what feels like hours of agony, Rex stands bare. Without another second to spare, he leans over you, nudging you to your back. Lips graze over yours for a moment before forcing your mouth open. Groaning, you wrap your arms around Rex’s broad shoulders.

He slides you up the bed, closer to the headboard, and his lips leave yours before attaching to your neck. The steady sucking and occasional bite make your head dizzy, and you close your eyes. Your cunt throbs already, anticipating, waiting. Rex shifts, tongue licking at the skin below your collarbone, and you feel something half-hard against your leg. It feels good, like always, to have Rex’s mouth on you, but a sudden thought pierces through your hazy mind.

“No. Visible… marks,” you manage to say. Rex’s head lifts from his assault on your neck.

“Oh. Forgot about that,” he says, sending you a sheepish smile. He’s cute, you think. Too cute. And, despite being so much bigger and stronger, you have the urge to wrap him up in a big hug and protect him forever. After you get your brains fucked out of course. It seems like he’s on the same wavelength, and his adorable face plunges into the valley between your breasts and- oh .

Rex goes straight for sucking and biting and licking everywhere but the one place you need him. By the time Rex finishes marking your entire chest, your nipples almost ache at being left untouched. You whine, going so far as pushing his head closer to you. He chuckles, and his warm breath feels so good against your already heated skin. Finally, after moments of pure torture, his tongue grazes over your right nipple.

You moan, momentarily satisfied. Laying here, with Rex’s mouth on you, feels better than expensive vacations or gaudy clothes or aged alcohol. Rex makes you descend into pure bliss, and he manages it with foreplay alone. You shift a bit, trying to open your legs to wrap around his waist. He lifts up, and your legs ease out from beneath him.

With Rex paying attention to your chest, you take the opportunity to grind up against him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, just above the thing you desperately want inside you. But you have some patience and, since it took a lot of work to plan this night, you have hours to spare. The thought makes you giddy; hours alone with Rex sounds like the closest thing to heaven.

You rock gently against him, the grinding just enough to satisfy you. Rex, ever the vigilant lover, takes notice and separates from your chest. Before you can whine, he unhooks your legs from his waist and crawls down. A moment later, he wraps his arms around your thighs, encasing his head between your legs. You only have a second to breathe before a warm tongue touches you right there . Your right leg drops to the bed, no longer held, and a hand reaches up to wrap around your breast.

Rex’s tongue circles your clit, once, twice, three times in slow, delicate motions. It’s akin to torture and only makes your clit throb. You try to push up off the bed, but his grip on your left leg traps you down. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and close your eyes.

“F-fuck, Rex. Too… slow,” you groan. He chuckles in response, the uneven vibrations of his voice making you even hotter. Rex squeezes your breast for a brief moment then begins to suck on your clit in earnest. He alternates between sucking and using his tongue to swipe in multiple directions. Up and down, left and right, even a constant pulsing motion centered around your clit. To add to your yearning, he doesn’t even touch your center. You know, without a doubt, that you must be dripping.

All it takes a long swipe up your entire cunt for you to scream. Thankfully, you manage to throw a hand over your mouth despite your head being too fuzzy to think about anything else. His tongue continues to lick you, coaxing you through the high, until you whine about overstimulation. After a minute or two, your breathing slows, and the tingles all over your body seem to subside. When you open your eyes, you see Rex grinning over you. His mouth is shiny and wet—your doing, you think with pride— and you pull him in for a kiss, not minding the taste.

“Good?” he murmurs softly against your swollen lips.

“Yeah. Very good,” you say and pull away for a second to plant a messy kiss on his neck. Just as you open your mouth to suck a hickey there, Rex backs off. Suppressing a pout, your eyes trail from his neck, down his chest, and to the very hard cock Rex holds in his hand.

He spreads your legs with his knees, and lowers down. A hand hovers right above your mouth. You give Rex the sexiest look you can manage—to which he responds with an endearing smile— as you lick a wet stripe down his palm. You take two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking and swirling with your tongue. His smile transforms into something hungrier, more primal, and you clench around empty air. It’s messy and wet and much too hot, even for you. Against your protests, Rex retracts his hand. He pumps himself once, twice. Despite him already being hard, his cock seems to grow larger. He has a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, a glistening red tip. You want him in your mouth but… Force, you need him inside you first.

“ Please , Rex,” you plead. He presses himself against your core, and thrusts his hips up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. His motions cause the head to brush against your pulsing clit.

When he’s satisfied, Rex pushes in just a little bit. “Ready?” You nod desperately, too excited to think straight. Rex groans as he slides in the rest of the way. It’s a tight fit— Rex is a supersoldier, and you haven’t had sex in three months— but Rex manages to fill you up perfectly. The first time you had sex had been a tad painful. The both of you were inexperienced since he never bothered with sex, and you had a reputation to think about. Granted, you fucked in an empty closet aboard a Star Destroyer, which might have added to the somewhat painful encounter. But here, trapped by his arms in a secret apartment, you’re proud to say that Rex stretches you in the most delicious way without any hints of real pain.

He pulls back a little bit before thrusting a little harder, and he starts at a steady pace. It’s not fucking, but Rex definitely isn’t going as slow as he can. There’s a slight urgency in his movements, a hint of care and intimacy. He leans over you, bracing himself on his elbows, and you grip his biceps, his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

“Fuck...,” he groans. “You’re so. Kriffing. Tight,” he says, dipping his head into your neck. You feel the bare trace of teeth and tense, slightly worried about marks, but it’s his tongue that darts to the dip above your collarbone.

Rex alternates between an in-out-in-out-in-out motion and grinding as you reach down to rub your clit. “So good,” you mewl, baring your neck for Rex. It’s altogether a bit too much: your fingers combined with Rex’s cock send you spiraling. You can feel the tell-tale sign of an orgasm coming— the urge for release just barely out of reach.

“Close?”

“Hmm... yeah.” Rex detaches himself, and you pout. The absence of his chest on yours allows the room’s air to cool your sweaty, heated skin. His thrusts slow until they stop. Frowning, you try to grind back, but Rex places a hand on your lower stomach and presses down.

“Can we change positions? For a bit?” Rex asks, looking shy despite his cock seated deep inside you. You nod; the brief interruption already has your orgasm dancing even further out of reach.

Rex pulls out in one motion, and you groan at the sudden loss. You spare a glance at his cock, moaning all the while. Rex flushes. Cute.

Hands grip your hips and gently urge you to turn. You follow his instruction, pushing yourself up on your elbows to flip and lie on your stomach. The air feels good against your back, and you prop your knees up, face planted into the sheets. It’s a presentation of sorts, a tantalizing, submissive position. You shake your ass for a good measure and smile when you hear Rex’s breath hitch.

You yelp when a rough hand grips your ass for a second, squeezing tight , before leaving. Then a sharp slap rings throughout the room, and a distinctive, stinging pain registers. “Good?” Rex asks, voice throaty and raw and much too attractive.

“Yes, captain,” you say, smiling into the sheets. When you first addressed him by rank, you had been making out in an empty medbay. He came in his blacks—armor included— and apologized profusely to which you responded with another kiss.

Rex slaps you again, and you jolt in surprise. The force isn’t hard, but it surprises you nonetheless. You feel two hands on each of your cheeks, and they pull at the flesh there, exposing you. The air feels good on both your holes but not as good as Rex manhandling you. He pushes your cheeks together and apart again. Rex moves them up and down too, pinching at the junction of your ass and thighs, massaging your lower back. He’s playing, you realize, and you love it. “Your ass is so fucking good,” he groans, sending another slap down. One of his hands snake to your waist and grips the skin there.

“Please, captain. I need-” Rex shuffles on his knees a bit and, without warning, pushes into you all the way. At this angle, he fills you deeper than before, and you have no choice but to take it. Rex starts slowly, making sure you get used to the new position. A hand settles on the dip of your lower back.

He grinds down and little by little starts to pick up the pace. His speed pushes you up the bed, and you can hear the supports squeak against the floor. You manage to sneak a hand between your body and the bed, finding your clit with practiced ease. As you begin rubbing yourself in desperate figure-eights, Rex thrusts a little faster, a little harder. He presses down, rocking your whole body, forcing all coherent thoughts out your head.

“You like that, princess?” You can only groan in reply, the warmth in your stomach building. “So kriffing hot,” he grunts and licks a blistering stripe up your spine. He presses in as deep as he can and, instead of almost pulling out and ramming back in like before, he thrusts shallower but harder. The increased pressure makes your head loll, and you distinctly feel a wet pool by your chin where you drooled.

Your fingers on your clit pick up their pace, bordering on pure agony and pleasure. You forget following patterns and move messily to stimulate your clit. It’s harder to keep your hand there though because Rex leans over to press against your back, trapping you. His chest is sweaty but hard and sturdy and firm. “ Fuck , princess. You’re so good to me.” He sends a particularly hard thrust into you, and you yelp at the pressure.

“I- kriff- love you, Rex,” you breathe out, mind delirious but honest. Your confession seems to send him into a frenzy because he pulls away, grabs your biceps to haul you off the bed, and sets a bruising pace. He bends you so your back arcs, face upturned to the ceiling while the captain pounds into you from behind.

Lips attach to your right shoulder, and you keen as Rex bites down. With every thrust in and out, you hear the sinful way your ass smacks against his hips, the wet squelch of his cock rearranging your guts. Rex’s rough grunts when he grinds deeper into you, your choked moans at his roughness. He rocks against you, pushing up-up-up . It’s thrilling: being used like this. You’re like a rag doll in his arms. And it’s oh so delightful to let Rex wreck you. With his speed and aggression, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, almost painfully. In your haze, you manage to cup your chest with your hands, trying to ease the pain. Your fingers roll around your stiff nipples which sends a new wave of pleasure to your cunt. But you can barely hold on; the sheer speed makes your breasts bounce too fast. Rex’s thrusts send your hands tumbling away, unable to grip on.

The bruising pace makes your eyes roll, and you finally let go. Your entire body goes limp in Rex’s hold, content to let him have your heart and your body and your mind. He continues to use you, not relenting in his pace. Sensing your tiredness, Rex lowers you to the bed, unlatching his hands from your biceps but keeping one on your lower back, still pounding into you.

It takes three more deep thrusts before you come, gasping into the pillow. Colors burst behind your closed eyelids, clouds of pure pleasure and dizziness and affection. Rex grunts once, twice, and tenses, groaning. You feel a warm burst, and suddenly, you’re fuller than you thought possible.

He drapes his body over yours, and the both of you stay there, content to be together. It takes minutes before you return to your senses, and even then you’re still a little fuzzy. He stays inside you the whole time, and you feel his cock soften with a slight throb here and there. Even while limp, however, he still manages to fill you enough so nothing leaks out.

Something gentle brushes against the side of your face, tethering you to the physical world. “Love you too, princess,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “My cyare,” Rex adds with another kiss on your neck. You shiver despite feeling much too hot and grin into the bed.

A moment later, he pulls away, the both of you groaning. You feel empty and cold, and your cunt clenches as he leaves. A steady trickle of his release drips down your skin and onto the sheets below. Rex lets you go and, with an undignified grunt, you roll to your back, Rex joining you. The two of you lay there, basking in the aftermath. More cum drips out of you, and the thought makes your clit throb. Fuck, you just came twice and you’re already horny again.

“Come here,” Rex orders, tugging you into a hug. He grabs two pillows and places them under your heads, but you migrate over to his. “Pillow stealer,” he accuses. You smile back. After all, it’s much better to share one pillow. He drapes an arm over your torso, and you nuzzle into his neck.

“That was good,” you murmur.

“Yeah? You liked that?” There’s a small hint of vulnerability in his voice, something unsure and worried.

“Of course. You know what I like.”

“I guess... I didn’t go too hard, did I? You went limp all of a sudden, and I thought I hurt you.” You separate from his neck, looking up at his concerned face.

“You’d never hurt me. Never. It just felt so good that I let go. I’d… like that again,” you blink up at him. Already, the pull of sleep calls to you.

“Oh. Ok.” His eyes drift down to your neck. “Sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s quite a few visible marks.” You smile tiredly at his guilty expression.

“I can cover it with makeup. I’ve gotten better at it, haven’t I?” The both of you laugh. Rex places a hand on the back of your head and tugs you closer. You entangle your legs and, with a shy smile, feel the wet trace of his cum spill down your thighs. He seems to feel it too because he tenses. Worried that he might be uncomfortable, you try to pull back but stop when something nudges against you.

“Already? How?”

Rex grins. “Enhanced human, remember? Besides, you’re sexy and naked and tight.”

“And wet,” you add on.

“And wet.”

“I’m a little tired though,” you say as a yawn escapes your lips. While the thought of getting fucked by Rex again is enough for even more of his cum to gush out, you’re still tired. The whole day has been exhausting: putting on a disguise, running from the press, and getting fucked by the man you love.

“If you want, you don’t have to move.”

“Oh?” He hums, tracing a nonsensical pattern on your skin.

“I’ll be on top and you can lay there. You can even sleep.” The idea is tempting; not having to do anything while Rex fucks you sounds like a dream. But you want to make sure he doesn’t get too tired or feel like he’s being used. He deserves to relax. You think of ways to show him how much he deserves it. Maybe later, after a round or two, you can wrap your mouth around him, bob your head, and taste him for the first time in three months. Swirl your tongue on the underside and-

Well. You’re tired but still very much horny.

“If you really want to.”

“Oh I definitely want to, princess.” You giggle at his enthusiasm and place a tiny kiss on his collarbone, eyes almost closing out of exhaustion.

“Well then, captain, go ahead.” He pulls away to lean down and peck your lips then turns you to lie flat on your back, already slicking his impossibly hard cock against your cum-filled, dripping cunt. Rex slots into you and the intrusion is tighter than before. You’re already a little sore, and you definitely won’t be walking straight tomorrow. He thrusts shallowly then slowly picks up the pace, grunting delicious sounds. Part of you wants to stay awake just to see and hear him. But a bigger part of you wants to rest, and his promise of fucking you to sleep is too novel and exciting to pass up.

The last thing you see before you sleep are his golden eyes looking equal parts hungry and adoring.

#captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex smut #clone wars #star wars fanfiction #diplomacy #a princess and her captain

134 notes · View notes

tiredstudents · 3 years

Text

Those masks.

He wasn’t going to forget those masks, nor the screams from the other staff members. More importantly the cold. The freezing cold. The Princess of Frost glided across the corridors like a ghost. A Wraith. Freezing anyone she can, their bodies turned into statues, a mockery of the people Daniel used to work with. Some of them were people he had come to befriend.

Her masked army cause just as much chaos. Their gunfire putting down men and women. Mages or no. The Oprichnik could move and disappear with ease, hailing bullets down on the workers. Daniel was one such person. Hand pressed painfully against a bleeding bullet wound on his shoulder. He was stumbling around in a blind panic as his heart rate began to pick up.

Just one more step, just one more!

BANG.

A bullet sailed past his ear and hit the back end of the hall, quickly the Staff Member ducked around the corner as the masked men wandered by. He began to tear up. His thoughts went out to those shot or frozen. Those whom had more right to live then he. Those coming from more influential magus families.

There was nothing he can do now though. Just get up and move. That’s what they did Singularity after Singularity.

He felt just as useless back then as he did now.

Slowly he moved towards the Hanger….there had to be something there, it was the Hanger after all. Maybe he could at least find someplace to hide an-

BANG!

Pain shot through his body as his leg gave out. Blood streaming from the wound as he fell down. The young man’s body felt weak as he pushed it as much as he could. Crawling closer and closer to the hanger.

Blood and tears filled Daniel’s vision. As he got closer and closer before noticing something. The white fluff of a dress. Looking up with blurred vision. The Magus caught the cold and apathetic eyes of the Servant. In her hands was a doll.

“W-“

He could only get out weakly before passing out.

#The Outcasted Mage - Fate AU #(Of course he gets picked up and taken to the Border)#(But that's all while he's unconcious)#(Finally did it!)

5 notes · View notes

illyrian-lover-flower · 4 years

Text

The chosen forest keeper 5

I never deserved you

So just a little note, thank you guys so much for being patient with me❤❤ and please enjoy the chapter😊

Though I must warn you, there is a moment in this one where I questioned myself - it’s propably going to be pretty easy to point it out😅

_____________________________________

Fear clawed at her back, like a cold trail of water, that slowly climbed up her spine, millimetre for millimetre, as she stood shaking, like the leaves around her, in the middle of a small clearing, inside a forest which she never wandered upon.

And though it was fear, that set her heart shaking and her blood running, and held an icy reign over her body, so did the dagger, which she held with such intensity, that her knuckles turned as white as the jade beneath her trembling fingers, while the tip of it glittered happily under the moonlight as it pointed towards the rustling bush to her right.

Elain had always dreaded such a moment. A moment in which her body would over throw her own power of will again, and claim her. The wish of shedding blood, attached to the very root of her heart as she stood still as death, waiting for her prey. Elain didn’t know from where this lust for blood hailed from, but what she knew was the fear, that always flooded her heart in crashing waves whenever her mind ran wild on blood red fantasies. Leaving her trembling each night, when she awoke sweating from such a dream.

And now her fantasy was reality.

Control having long slipped from her grasp as her feet started to move slowly towards the rustling leafage, the grass below her not even daring to bow in the wind as her feet padded softly over the green grass - the dagger held protectively out in front of her as she moved closer and closer, her stance ducked and ready to sprint forward and stab, if she had to.

Elain would hate herself if this blade would dive into the depths of a fae body, an animal body even, she did not wish to shed blood, but her body was against it. A primal part, which she wasn’t too familiar with, inside of her kept on shouting to just let blood splutter, to get herself dirty.

But there was no such need for it. The glittering pearl white, of a sharp talon, making her sigh in relieve as she put, Fate seeker hurriedly away, back into the delicate sheath that was dangling carefree off of her thin leather belt. There was no need to draw Fate seeker, it was only an Illyrian, that probably searched, just like her, some peace and semblance among the endless greenery of the mother and the dancing moonlight of the gods.

There was no need for fear, no reason for bloodshed - everything was fine.

“Hello.” greeted her cheery voice the male, that came stumbling out of the bush. Leaves ripping and rustling, twigs cracking and breaking under his heavy weight, as he fought his way free.

Some of the greenery was still tangled in the mass of his chestnut-brown hair, as his eyes found Elain’s, shock washing through them as he stood, stiff as a stone, in the middle of the bush. One strong foot standing proudly on the mushy floor, while the other was tangled in a mass of twigs and leaves, fighting for freedom - all the while his shocked gaze never looked away from Elain, that shifted uncomfortably from one foot on the other.

Only for a brief moment when his foot in the bush started to shake, in the hopes of finally gaining freedom, did his gaze turn away from her and that only because he stumbled forward and crashed, face first, into the mushy green earth below them.

It took Elain a lot of willpower to not burst out laughing, but even though her hand flew quickly up her mouth, trying to hold in the laughter, a giggle still escaped her while the male to her feet, only one step away, grumbled into the dirty earth.

“Here, let me help you.” was all Elain could muster saying, as she calmed her giggling self again and bent down to help the bulky Illyrian up. He still continued to grumble on as he slowly stood up to his full hight again. Fresh mud glimmering under the soft silver hues of the moon light, while it stuck to his chest and face, slowly falling down in flakes too after he once ruffled through his fluffy hair.

Elain couldn’t contain the giggle as she eyed the male, his way of acting somehow reminded her a lot of Cassian. A clumsy male that was easy to fall into a stream of better never spoken curses. And the male - that stood with his back towards her, as he still tried desperately to get rid of all of the mud on his body - was just as tall and bulky as her kind hearted warrior friend. In general, all Illyrians seemed tall and bulky, she thought. After all, Fersia was just as tall as Azriel and Cassian, just a bit less of muscle mass, but Elain was sure they were around the same hight.

Just like the male, that stood in the middle of the clearing and still didn’t acknowledge Elain's presence at all, only when the Seer approached him, stopping three proper steps away from him did she catch his words.

“I go for once, only once, in the forest and then this happens! Mother above, why don’t you have a little mercy with me!?” with a sigh, on his now mud free lips, did he turn abruptly towards Elain.

Ghostly hues of moonlight seemingly dancing around his talons, while he slowly waded through the shaded sea of silver glimmers towards her. His whole being seemed to glow as he took each step silent and swift, approaching his prey ever so slowly. Slightly scared by him, did Elain subtly put a hand on the shaft of Fate Seeker, trying to gain calm and comfort from the cold Jade but neither came. Only the males hunting blue eyes peered down at her petite form.

“Can I help you?”

The male did not speak, all he did was taking a predatory step closer towards her and another one and another one, making Elain slowly back away from his intimidating stature and claw tightly at the hilt of Fate seeker.

Only when he was a breath away, the seers back pressed to the rough bark of an oak, who's leaves stretched far above their heads into a crown –protecting them from any prying eye- not even the moon beams able to dive through the sea of thick leaves, did the stranger speak. His eyes, who were filled with distaste and apologies, were locked on hers as he positioned his arm next to Elain’s head.

If he goes any further, I’ll draw Fate seeker. Was all Elain could think, not even his honey voice able to calm her nerves “I am very sorry.”

She didn’t even had time to process his words, before his lips pushed roughly down on hers, his hand, that was not positioned next to her head, moving to her waist and pulling her wide-eyed figure closer towards him.

Her whole body seemed to screech at the feeling of his lips, seemed to buckle in disgust as his lips kept on moving, as if he would guzzle her alive. Elain did not know why she stood tense for so long, why she had let his hand grip tighter around her waist as his lips continued on moving, but all she knew was the sting.

The sting that tickled along her palm, like an army of ants.

And then he was gone, his weight was off of her, her lips were freed of his, as his body stumbled back. This disgusting large hand of his, that had grabbed her so roughly, flying up to hold his red check while his eyes were wide as plates, capturing softly the hues of the silver moonlight as they seemed to glitter like a pile of glass shards. “What in the mothers name?!” hissed his voice through the air.

Elain still tried, with a heaving chest and shaking hands, to process what just happened, of what she just did – she had raised her hand against him, an Illyrian who was born and crafted for battle. Her heart raced, her lips hurt from his rough movement on them and all her mind could do was to yell back at him, her puzzled brain not even able to form the words properly.

“That I could ask you too!”

His head snapped to her, something like amusement mixed with a bit of anger was displayed in these ghostly light blue eyes of his; “You could ask me that?! You were just the one the broke the rules of the forest?!”

“What rule are you even talking about!?”

“Don’t act so sanctimonious! You know just as well as I of the rules around here!”

“Do I look like I do!?” was all she could manage. Her breath was still uneven as she started to yell at the male. Never in her life would she have thought to ever yell at a person, such as the male in front of her, who argued, with wildly gesturing hands, about his point of right.

The male didn’t even answer her question as he continued to grumble on, his chest rising and his lungs fighting for air, as he took deeper and heavier breathes throughout his telling-off. He did not even notice how Elain herself shook from uprising anger, hot searing anger that arose inside of her and protected her of the cold air around her.

Who does this male think he is?!

He was in luck that Elain only lifted her hand against him and not drove Fate Seeker into his sculpted cheek!

“You females of the Angisciri-tribe know just as much of the rules around here as we males!”

Now that had caught Elain’s attention. Fersia had mentioned the word Angisciri a few times on the flight towards her village, as well as when they marched through the thick woods, that protected Fersia’s home for already such a long time. It already had wondered Elain a few times what it meant, but she could not be bothered to ask this question. Not when her mind was preoccupied with her cruel train of thoughts and the whispers around her.

Just like now, as an abradant hissed laugh echoed through the woods, making her flinch and draw Fate Seeker once again, who’s blade was pointed once again towards her surroundings. But there was nothing, nothing but thick darkness as she scanned the bushes, the stems, the leaves, anything –she didn’t know what- for any trace of an enemy.

And just like that did her disgust vanish, like a cold drop of water on the hot surface of a stone. A bit of it still lingered on her tight skin, but it was forgettable, just like the male that stood puzzled behind her and eyed her stiff body with furrowed eyebrows.

“May I help you?”

Elain didn’t answer it, she only turned towards him again – ever so slowly- Fate Seeker clutched tightly in her hands and resting calmy against her chest. “I just thought I heard something.” The tall male, who bathed once again in the silver sea of moonlight, lifted his gaze. Slowly searching every surface behind her, with a trained eye, for any danger and as he found none of that did his blue eyes focus on her doe ones again.

“You do know, we still have to follow the rules of the forest. Even though you and I, both, might not like it we still have to follow the rules, which were only set up for our own good.”

His voice was stern as he spoke after a while of silence, his gaze unweathering on Elain as he lectured her about a rule, she had no clue existed. Voicing out this thought, quiet like a church mouse, he had laughed at her.

“Did your mother not teach you the rules of the forest?”

“My mother was not from here, neither am I, so it is only natural that I do not know of this rule.”

“You are not from here?” was all he asked, repeating her words with such a hopeful beam in his eyes, that he reminded her of Feyre when they had celebrated her birthday last year. Struk by this memory did her strength to speak slowly evaporate from her, fleeing as if it never belonged to her, as if she was always meant to stay silent – a nod everything that was deemed as right for her.

Oh, and how this nod of hers set the male running towards her. Twirling and lifting her in an overwhelming hug, similar to those Cassian always gave her –whenever he came back from Illyria. Why did she have to remember all of this now? Was all she could ask herself as guilt slowly wrapped itself around her throat and heart, slowly suffocating her as she thought of her family in the arms of a stranger, who practically bounced off happiness.

“Oh, thank the mother!” were the words he first spoke to her as he set her back down on her feet, with a spinning head and a nervous laugh on her lips. She still didn’t know of his reason to be this happy, nor could she explain herself why he had forced this kiss upon her only minutes before.

Elain would normally not pry, but she had a right to know why he did what he did – after all, her time of silence was over, she would no longer accept others to just talk around her, ignore her. Those were the reasons why she ran away in the first place, why she had abandoned her family and now preferred to life with this sting in her heart – slowly healing, even with such a sharp thorn. While in Velaris she would have withered away, would have never spoken up and would have never really questioned the moves of anyone, after all, she had the least right to question Rhys and Feyre’s motives of why they had sent Nesta away so cruelly. Elain was, from any point of view, the weakest of her family, so it was most likely to think that she was the one who had the least right to decide on the doing of the strong ones. Always used to being the one that was protected – not even a say in the slightest.

That was how she had always accepted –thought- of such things, but here she was free to grasp this strong thread of deserved knowledge.

“May I ask what the kiss was for?” though she asked politely, Elain could not hide the edge of distaste, that lined her words and set the male to shift uncomfortably from one foot on the other, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly while his gaze looked everywhere but her; “Right, you might want to sit down for this one.”

Elain was puzzled by his act of behaviour but still let him guid her back onto the open clearing, sitting down with her on her white cloak, which she had spread out without hesitancy. It were long moments of silence and whispered hushes of the wind through the shaking leaves until he spoke again, more to himself than to her “Mother, this is hard to explain to a female.” But Elain was patient and waited till the flustered male opposite her was ready to speak freely. With a final huff and the seers waiting eyes fixed on him, did he meet her gaze. Determination was written inside his ghostly blue orbs, while confusion was displayed in her doe eyes.

“So, I did mention a rule to you.” Elain nodded.

“What I did not tell you, was that this rule is the most important one between the males and females of the forest, or rather it’s one of the three most important rules around here. They are that important that you could consider them as law.” his uneasiness was bright as day, but still Elain could not help but to wish that he finally got to the point, which he tried to dance around so gracefully.

Another huff followed as he rung once again for words; “All right, to give a bit of insight I’ll tell you all three.”

Elain only nodded and bit her tongue, it would be rude to interrupt him now, when he tried to give her more information than she asked for. The male only laughed nervously “Mother, I had never thought I’d have such a talk someday …. anyhow the first law of the forest is that no male of the Skirin-tribe is allowed to life together with a female of the Angisciri-tribe, neither is a female of the said Angisciri-tribe allowed to life with a male of the Skirin-tribe. “

His gaze looked deeper into Elain's once he finished the first rule, looking for questions in her eyes. Questions which she simply voiced out; “You say ‘Angisciri-tribe’ and ‘Skirin-tribe' does that mean there are other tribes around here?”

The male shock his head, his fluffy chestnut hair ruffling in the wind as he did so “No, here in the Night Court and the forest do not reside other tribes. The Angisciri-tribe is the only female tribe, just as the Skirin-tribe is the only male tribe.” Elain eyebrows furrowed together as she heard that “Does that mean in the one tribe are only females allowed and in the other only males?” An approving nod was all she got.

And as she thought about it, it all made clear sense. She might not know how it looked in the male tribe, but in Fersia’s home, the Angisciri-tribe, it was clear that only females resided on those grounds. No male warrior protected the Village, or the Mother that sat so proudly on her black throne, no male was seen training or doing house chores, like getting the wood for a fire inside. It all made sense, but something still wondered her.

There were children giggling and running around through the Village, fighting each other with little sticks, that they pretended were great swords, while their Mothers did their assigned task in the Village.

“But if you all life separately, how do you provide offspring?” it was a rare question for her to ask aloud, but if she wouldn’t have it would have not let her go for the rest of the month and asking Fersia, who was a great friend and knew that such questions were unusual for her, would have been much more difficult than to ask a male –a stranger- who shifted uncomfortably in front of her and did not know her.

“Well, about that, it’s the second law of the forest – ones a male and a female, of the tribes, cross paths inside of the forest, it is expected of them to perform the act of reproducing.” For a moment his words did not struck her, only made her nod as if she understood his words, but in truth all they left behind was a puzzled net of thoughts in her brain that was not fully able to understand the weight of them, but once she did – heat rushed to her cheeks and cloaked them with the same dust of pink as his.

They were supposed to … .

Mother above she did not even want to think about this!

Was that the reason why Fersia had warned her that it was dangerous in the forest, because of this law? Elain was full out puzzled as she sat there, her head bright red as a tomato, while her skin seemed to melt off of her body due to the heat it radiated off.

“Thank the Mother I am not part of the Angisciri-tribe.” she clarified again.

The male only nodded at her.

“Anyway,” did the male start, trying to change the subject as soon as possible “...the third law is something pretty common – no member of the tribes is allowed to kill a member of the other tribe.”

“That is something pretty comprehensible.” she stated matter of factly.

The male, once again, only nodded and let silence spread under the hues of moonlight.

Granting Elain some semblance to collect her thoughts, while she processed his words with a cautious mind.

He was a kind male so it seemed, as she looked closer at him. His whole being did not whisper of a bad intention with her, nor did he look like as if he would do with her what was wanted of them, if she would have been a member of Fersia’s tribe.

All in all, he did not radiate off the aura of a typical Illyrian Warrior – brash, self-constituted paired with a heart cold as ice while they were trained to harden it even more. What she had seen, of the Illyrians in Windhaven when she once visited Nesta, was horrifying.

They mistreated those of them who had strength and a gentle heart, laughed about the females and talked about them as if they were a useless accessory, they kept around for fun. It still tore her heart to shreds when she thought about it, when she remembered how some of the male's bragged that they were only hours away from having the Commanders little toy under them.

Her blood went boiling as she remembered these barked laughs, how they echoed through her hollow body as she walked past them together with Azriel, who had openly fought an inner battle. It was open to her at least, the grinding of his jaw was indication enough that he fought the urge to punch them, weather it was for Nesta or Cassian was beyond her, but she somehow had the feeling that if he would have lunged forward and placed a punch on their nose – then it would have been for Nesta and her alone.

It warmed Elain’s heart, in the cold of night as she sat here on the forest floor, her memories taking her to thoughts she long didn’t allow herself to have. The warm thoughts of his care, that Azriel had truly cared.

The seer was not in the picture how deep the friendship with her steeled sister ran, but no matter the depth he always helped her as best as he could. He had shared so much pain and laughter with Nesta that it occasionally made Elain feel weird, as if a strep wrapped tightly around her heart and did not want to stop bothering her until the Shadowsinger was in sight again.

It often made Elain feel guilty, possessive, of this male who deserved to have his own freedom and friendships and if Azriel would want to labour such a deep friendship with Nesta – then so would it be. It would have been alone their decision and the fact that Nesta even wanted, allowed, a friend – then Elain would have to be fine with it.

And she was.

The thought alone that Nesta had healed enough to allow someone close in her life, made the rubbing strap on her heart disappear and replace it with warmth instead.

Nesta was healing.

Hopefully she still would after all of this, would still let this kind hearted male, that cloaked himself in silence and shadows as well as a dry sense of humour, close to her.

A faint whisper of a smile ghosted her lips,as she thought of his dry jokes, while the moon beams wanted to caress those plush lips of hers, but something made them shy away, made them dance around her, like her thoughts danced around the Shadowsinger, covering her in a veil of silver that draped around her shoulders like the finest silk.

It was weird how light seemed to shy away from her pale skin, as if even the slightest ray was afraid of hurting this delicate skin of hers, while it hugged tight to the male who still sat opposite her.

Covering his hair, his face, his body, his wings and soul in a second skin of silver, it was as if light was drawn to him.

No shadow danced to his feet, not even behind him, while those around Elain seemed to creep closer and closer. As if they still carried the protective thought of their master, who was thousands of miles away, inside of them. Clinging to the seer as if it were their destiny – to stay with her.

Let go of me. was all she could whisper in her mind; Please leave me behind.

Begged her broken voice in silence, while she eyed the small twirls of black that danced and caressed the forest earth next to her.

Small tendrils lashed out towards her, while others wrapped around a delicate hilt of grass, as if they were hurt by her words and sought comfort in the softness of the greenery.

But softness never came, neither for her heart nor for them. Cold stings of guilt were all that bore tight in her heart, set it bleeding, as she looked with teary eyes at the soft veil of blackness, she so wished to feel whispering across her skin again, but never would it caress her in such gentleness again.

After all, she had hurt him – rammed a dagger through the already broken heart of their master- and yet they still clung to her, as if they were not ready, not able to let her go.

“Please ..." she whispered at them, a broken word that was barely audible over the strong gusts of wind, that picked up pace somewhere in between her thoughts. Yet the stranger seemed to have heard her, his blue eyes looking her way, puzzled, while he slowly got up.

Each of his careful few steps seemed to echo through the forest earth below them, the beams of moonlight which followed him, able to shoo away the broken shadows around her.

It is better like this. He deserves to be happy; the clinging of his shadows would have only made it worse – for both of us. It is better like this.

Was all she could think as the male stretched out a hand to help her up, she gladly took it, but still – her skin felt weird where he touched her, seemed to freeze and sear at the same time while needles picked at her flesh. It felt weird, this rough hand on hers felt so different, so wrong, compared to the one her skin already seemed to have memorized.

Yet she still did not intend to be rude “Thank you.” The Illyrian only nodded, while he tucked his wings in tight and stepped off of the cloak. “Ah, I am very sorry about your …" he did not come to finish that sentence as Elain already picked up the cloth and wrapped the clean fabric around her shoulders once again.

“What?” giggled she at him – he was even more baffled than Fersia. “Nothing.” and with that did his chestnut- hair fluff up in the wind a last time, before he was gone.

Swallowed up in the woods once again as he left Elain behind.

Smiling did she shake her head at the male, who's figure grew darker and darker in the covert of the summer greenery of the forest.

He probably went home, just like she should – Fersia might already be worried, though the female was not one of her sisters and preferred that the seer had her own life and freedom, she still tended to worry a lot at times and Elain did not want to make her worry more than she already did today.

Her break down from forenoon most likely still lingering in the Illyrians head, just like Elain’s as it still pounded harshly at her. But perhaps it was only her trail of thoughts that led her up to that headache, her remorse long taking over her still weakened body.

The walk home would perhaps turn out longer than she thought.

With a sigh did she already want to set out south towards the Village, but there was something nagging her, clawing at her mind like the wind at her cloak and gown.

Don’t go there! Come to me! Come to me! Visit me!

Hissed the same voice over the wind at her, from yesterday. And against any better judgement, against any up roaring worry in her body, did she turn and went north.

Closer and closer towards that hissed voice that continued on beckoning her closer.

_______________previous chapter | next chapter __________________

Taglist (please contact me if you want to be added or removed from the tags):

@tanaquilpriscilla

@generousfanfan

@hail-doodles

@courtofjurdan

@classywastelandpirate

@heirofthrnightcourt004

@autophobiaxx

#the chosen forest keeper #elain #elain archeron #azriel #elain angst #azriel angst #elriel #elriel ff #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #nezriel brotp #cassian #Illyria #Illyrians #own characters #tribes #forest #shadows

24 notes · View notes

thrillingdetectivetales · 3 years

Note

Tumblr jukebox - BoB, Winnix - 69 (and yes, I understand that you're not going to use "69" as the actual literal prompt, more's the pity)

Hello my dear anonymous flower! The song I landed on for you was Angel Haze’s “Crown.” You get a double-length fill of flirty pre-relationship Winnix in an AU where Dick becomes a crime boss in New York after the war for some reason and Nix’s dad is in bed with the mafia because sometimes the muse just goes super hard. Enjoy!

Winters didn’t look like the kind of guy who ran an extensive criminal syndicate.

He was in an understated blue suit, cut to emphasize the long, lean line of his body, with his hair combed and slicked into place like a choirboy. His shoes were shined to a high polish and a silver tie-clip flashed at his breast when he moved. He looked like nothing so much as a pastor’s son who’d wandered into a bespoke wardrobe by mistake. Lew supposed that was the point.

He bellied up to the bar next to Winters to get a better look, keeping a couple of empty seats between them for plausible deniability. Winters appeared to be nursing a Coca-Cola in one of those little glass bottles and was deep in conversation with a serving girl who was half-leaned on the stool beside him.

“ - really don’t have to do that,” the serving girl was saying.

“It’s no trouble,” Winters told her, smile gentle and reassuring. “Doc Roe is an old Army buddy of mine. You take your mother by his practice over on 46th Street and tell him I sent you. He’ll have her fixed up in no time.”

The serving girl blinked, eyes big and wet, and pressed her teeth coquettishly into the cushion of her lower lip. “Thank you, Major, really.” She set her hand on his arm, up near the crook of his elbow, and leaned in, presumably to ensure that Winters could hear her. Lew was sure the clear view it provided into her ample cleavage was a happy coincidence. “If there’s anything I can do for you—anything at all—you just let me know, all right?”

Winters smirked, eyebrows quirking, and didn’t look away from the woman’s face for even a second as he patted her shoulder and replied, “Thank you, Lola. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lola grinned, scooped a couple of drinks onto her serving tray, and sashayed away into the crowd with a swivel in her hips that belonged on a dashboard hula dancer. Lew couldn’t help but snort.

He turned back toward the bar, stomach jumping as his gaze flashed across Winters’ own on the way. Lew took care not to look over, flagging the bartender down to order two fingers of Vat 69. The bartender slid a glass over to him in short order, but before Lew could fish his money-clip free of his breast pocket, a couple of bills hit the bar in front of him.

“It’s on me,” said a warm, polite voice to his left.

Lew turned to find that Winters had sidled over to sit beside him, lounging on the bar stool as if it were as comfortable as any plush armchair. He licked his lips and tipped his glass in Winters’ direction.

“Cheers.”

Winters hefted his Coke and returned the sentiment in kind. They drank in silence for a moment, and then Winters set his bottle down with a muted clink and said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

“Not my usual haunt,” Lew agreed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“What brings you in tonight?”

“Boredom, I guess,” Lew said after a moment’s consideration. “Curiosity, maybe. Feels like I’ve been going to the same four places since I was old enough to hail a cab, figured it was time for a change of scenery.”

Winters hummed and dipped his chin in a nod. He gave Lew a look over, crown to toes and back up again, and then extended his hand. “Dick Winters.”

“Lewis Nixon,” Lew said, and shook it. “The Third, if you want to be properly pedantic about it.”

Dick snorted, mouth curling. “You know,” he said, wrapping a loose hand around his bottle and tapping his fingers against the surface, “I think I know your father. Nixon Shipping & Freight, right? Owns about half the port between here and Jersey?”

Lew couldn’t help but grin. He’d been loitering in the hallway outside his father’s office just a few days before, listening to him rail to his friends in the Outfit about how the Major was tying up his overseas lines and needed to be handled.

“Small world,” he offered.

“You in the same line of business?” Dick asked, taking a sip of his Coke.

“Not at present.”

“Why’s that?” “Son of a bitch fired me.”

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. “What for?”

“Call it a difference of opinion.” Lew took a quick slug of whisky and licked his lips, leaning in like he was sharing a particularly tawdry secret. “See, dear ol’ Dad is willing to climb into bed with all sorts of unsavory characters if he thinks it’ll get him ahead in business.” He straightened up and smoothed the line of his tie down his chest. “I like to think I’m a little more discerning when it comes to who I let between my sheets.” He paused, and added, “So to speak.”

Dick’s smile cracked just wide enough to show a sliver of teeth, blue eyes dancing in the low glow seeping off the lights behind the bar. “Is that so?”

Lew shrugged again, flashing him a small, smug smirk.

Dick watched him for a second, eyes narrow and calculating, before he ventured, “When you say ‘unsavory’ - ”

“Domenico Gianelli,” Lew provided, cutting him off.

Dick’s mouth snapped shut, eyebrows climbing toward his hair. It was bold, perhaps, to name a high-ranking mafia capo in public like this, but Lew had never been one for subtlety. From the delighted twist to his mouth, it was an attribute that Dick appreciated.

“I host a poker game in back room on Saturdays for a few buddies of mine,” Dick said, still smiling. Lew already knew that, of course. He had a feeling that Dick was likewise aware that he’d wandered in tonight, of all nights, to take advantage of that very fact, but he carried on gamely, “Would you care to join us?”

Lew took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “What’s the buy in?”

“Fifty bucks.”

Lew sucked his teeth. “Steep.”

“Only if you can’t afford it.”

Lew bit back a laugh, ducking his head. “All right,” he said, when he’d regained his composure. “Fifty bucks.” He offered his hand again. Dick took it without missing a beat, the both of them clinging maybe a second or two longer than propriety required.

“You know, Mr. Nixon,” Dick said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Lew’s palm was still warm against Dick’s when he grinned, “Please, call me Nix.”

#tumblr jukebox #band of brothers #winnix #dick winters/lewis nixon #long post

6 notes · View notes

pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer · 4 years

Text

Super Fighting Roll (2-3)

(Roll tracks down the last remaining Energy Element, but soon discovers that things are far from over.)

Roll spun around, buster armed, as the transport completed. The only things that greeted her were another transporter unit and an endless expanse of dusty red plains.

“Mars? I guess I should just be glad they didn’t go even farther out. Dr. Light, can you read me?”

Static came in reply. Giving a short hum, Roll set out, Rush on her heels, keeping her eyes open for any sign of movement.

“Never thought we’d get to see another planet up-close, huh boy?”

Rush barked.

“Hehe...though, a lot of things have taken an unexpected turn lately.”

She thought back to what Break Man had said. At first she had simply wanted to dismiss it as a misunderstanding—being weaponized had been her choice, and it was bizarre that he thought otherwise. The more she thought on it, however, she became curious as to why he was so sure Dr. Light would do such a thing on his own.

The way he talked about Dr. Light…it almost made it sound like he knows him personally. And now that I think about it, that would explain why Dr. Light wasn’t expecting Break Man to just talk things through. But, if they do have some kind of history, why wouldn’t Dr. Light have said so? No, more importantly…I’m positive Break Man is a Robot Master. I was sure that Tempo, Rock, and I were the first, so when could he have met Dr. Light without us knowing? Unless…

Glancing back, Roll suddenly realized that Rush had stopped following her. She turned to look at the dog, standing a few paces away with ears perked up, and prepared to call him. Before she could, he pounced on something.

“What’ve you got, boy?”

Rush pulled a small mechanical snake from the dirt. Roll tilted her head as she examined it, and then froze, spotting the dirt behind Rush shifting. She fired a shot, blasting out another robot snake.

“What are these things?”

“Oh, you’re no fun…”

Whirling, Roll spotted a figure emerging from the surrounding dust cloud: a Robot Master with mostly green armor, his helmet styled to look like a large snake with its jaws around his head and tail hanging down his back. Keeping her eyes peeled for more snakes, Roll said, “I just want the Energy Element.”

“So impatient. May I at least introduce myself?”

“I’m going to guess ‘Snake Man’?”

The robot frowned. “No fun at all...regardless. If you are here, then I take it our comrades left on the moon have met their end?”

Roll didn’t answer.

“Ah, what a shame. If you’re capable of defeating them, then the rest of us certainly don’t stand a chance.” He began to walk back into the dust cloud. “Yes, I think it’d be best to just hand the Element over. Come, this way…”

Roll turned to Rush. The dog looked up from gnawing on the snake he had caught, giving a low-pitched whine.

“Yeah, I’m not convinced either...but, we need that Element.”

The two of them proceeded with extreme caution, scanning the ground for signs of any more snakes while also keeping Snake Man’s silhouette in sight. After a few minutes of walking, the dust began to thicken; wanting to keep the other robot in sight, Roll ran forward a few steps, and at that moment a pinpoint of light appeared. Roll dove aside, the incoming laser beam grazing her shoulder. Large metal spikes then began to rain down, so she stayed low, carefully crawling forward in search of her enemies.

I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

A gust of wind finally thinned the dust cloud. Roll found herself staring up at a small, two-story structure made of metal stained red by the planet’s dust, Snake Man standing in the doorway grinning at her. “What ever is the matter, Roll? The Element is right in here. Come over and take it.”

He ducked aside to avoid a Hard Knuckle. From the upper floor, Needle Man fired a hail of spikes; Roll slid behind a boulder just in time, spotting another laser a second later. “They’ve really got the advantage here...I’ll have to be smart about this.”

She peeked out and took aim at Needle Man. He ducked back inside immediately. A battalion of snakes were set in motion before she could switch targets, so she instead began clearing them out. A figure appeared behind Snake Man then, shooting yet another laser, though it was aimed away from Roll for some reason. She refocused on destroying the snakes. The laser hit another rock, bouncing off of it at a new angle, and went straight for Roll, knocking her out of her hiding spot.

“Uh-oh!”

Needle Man was back. Roll had no time to dodge, opting to blast the incoming spike out of the sky instead. Several of the snakes were upon her now, biting into her armor all at once--leaping to her feet, she shook them off with Top Spin, ducked back behind cover, and prepared some new tactics. She instructed Rush to shift the dirt on one side of the rock, hopefully making her enemies think she was about to emerge from there, and then darted in the opposite direction towards another adequately-sized boulder. As she passed, she shot Snake Man with Spark Shock to prevent him from adding to the army of snakes. Once safe, she unloaded a series of Magnet Missiles, the projectiles curving around her cover in search of proper targets.

“Admirable effort, Roll!” Snake Man called. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”

Snakes began to crawl over the rock. Roll leapt back and fired a Hard Knuckle, shattering the stone and disrupting the movement of the machines. She tried to head back to her first hiding spot, but Needle Man was too quick: a barrage of spikes kept Roll in place, allowing the snakes to regroup and resume their march. A bark caught Roll’s attention. Rush, in his jet form, rocketed towards her; she grabbed the edge of the platform and was carried out of harm’s way, quickly pulling herself up to get better footing.

“Thanks, boy,” Roll said.

They turned hard to avoid a laser. Circling around, Roll got a better idea of the landscape, seeing that the building was protected from the rear and sides by natural barriers.

“That still leaves one other way!”

After verifying that they were out of their enemies’ sight, Rush flew as low as he could without the roar of his jets giving them away, and Roll jumped onto the nearby rock wall. She steadily climbed down and onto the roof of the building, then looked back to Rush and held up ten fingers. Roll gripped the hatch on the roof, took a deep breath, and then ripped it off and jumped inside. The inner walls looked identical to the outer walls, and the room was empty save for a few rusty crates and a very surprised Needle Man.

“Wha--where’d you come from?!” he shouted, hurrying to lift his cannon.

Roll threw a Shadow Blade before he could fire, knocking his arm aside. She followed with a Spark Shock to stun Needle Man, and then blasted him into the wall with a Magnet Missile. Snake Man leapt up to the window as quickly as he could, only to be met by a Hard Knuckle that sent him falling back to the ground.

“Gemini Man, get up here!” Needle Man shouted.

Roll ran at him, hoping to not give him enough space to use his cannon. Suddenly, Needle Man bent forward, and the spikes atop his head extended out, stopping Roll short. As she stumbled back, she saw one of the lasers from before shoot out of the stairwell: it ricocheted off the ceiling, floor, and walls, fencing her in. However, Needle Man did not attack.

“Jerk...at least get an idea of what you’re aiming at!”

Ten seconds had passed. Rush came charging in through the opening in the roof, getting hit by the unexpected beam. Roll stunned Needle Man again as she made sure he was alright. Before she could follow up, snakes emerged from the stairwell and advanced towards her.

“Darn it!” Needle Man stomped his foot and took aim with both cannons. “Prepare to look like swiss cheese!”

He fired wildly, leaving no opening for Roll to counterattack. The projectiles zipped past her, most of them burying themselves in the oncoming wall of snakes--they were easily pinned to the floor, and those in the rear were slowed by the need to crawl over their companions. His assault only lessened when another Gemini Laser entered the room. Between the three incoming attacks, Roll was forced closer and closer to Needle Man, soon coming into range of his headbutt attack; as he moved to use it, Roll ducked and slid forward, colliding with Needle Man’s ankle and tripping him into the Gemini Laser. The impact sent Needle Man rolling into the wall, where he sat dazed for a moment.

“Ugh...just great…”

Roll pointed her buster at him. “Just give up. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Needle Man stared at her. “...Huh. You really aren’t what the boss prepared us for.”

“...What?”

“Here we were expecting a terrifyingly powerful Robot Master ready to kill at a moment’s notice. You’re tough for sure, but it doesn’t really seem like your heart’s in it.”

Roll clenched her teeth. “Of course not! Why would I want to kill any of you? I’m only fighting because you’re forcing me to!” She turned to blast some of the snakes before immediately putting her eyes back on Needle Man.

“Heh heh...guess someone’ll have to let the boss know he’s wrong. I would love to see that.”

“I already tried, but Break Man won’t talk to me.”

Needle Man shook his head. “I don’t mean him. I mean--”

Another Gemini Laser shot into the room, reflecting off the wall once before striking Needle Man directly in the chest. In his weakened state, that was more than enough to pierce his armor, searing a hole clean through his internal components. Roll jumped back in shock. A few seconds later, a scowl clouded her face; she grabbed Needle Man just long enough to copy his weapon, and then shot spikes through the floor in a circle. When she stomped on the center of the circle, the floor broke away, giving her a path to leap directly down to the lower level.

“Ah, there she is,” Snake Man said. On either side of him stood Gemini Man and his duplicate, though which was which was anyone’s guess. “You’re quite determined to swoop down on us from above, aren’t you? Are we so beneath you?”

Ignoring him, Roll stared at one of the Gemini Men. “Why would you do that to Needle Man?”

Both Gemini shrugged in response, one saying, “Who knows?”

Roll opened fire. “Is it really so easy for you to kill someone? What’s wrong with you?!”

Her foes scattered. Roll tracked one of the Gemini while the other and Snake Man flanked her. Rush dropped on top of Snake Man just as he prepared to attack, and the closer Gemini charged at Roll, prompting her to turn her assault his way. The spikes passed right through the projection, and the real Gemini Man used the opportunity to set a Gemini Laser bouncing around the room.

“What a peculiar thing to say!” he remarked as Roll focused on tracking the laser. “Of course it’s easy. As if it could be difficult for a technical marvel such as myself!”

Rush scurried back out of the laser’s path. Bounding back, Snake Man began calling up his army; Roll turned her fire upon them, impaling the troops before they could advance more than a few inches, and managed to land a direct hit on Snake Man’s shoulder. He cried out, clutching the wound as he slumped against the wall. Switching her focus again, Roll ducked just beneath the Gemini Laser and equipped Magnet Missile, hoping the homing projectile would be able to track Gemini Man. The laser shot down her first attempt before she could find out.

“I can’t believe anyone would program robots to be so cruel,” Roll said.

“Are you saying all we know is wrong?” Snake Man asked, baring his fangs in a pained smirk. “It isn’t our fault we are who we were programmed to be. There’s no need to act all high and mighty.”

Gemini Man and his doppelganger charged before Roll could respond. She leapt back, the laser striking her in the side and knocking her flat. Snake Man capitalized on the situation with a small squadron of snakes, with the tiny machines charging straight through one of the Gemini. Switching to Shadow Blade, Roll attacked the other, stopping his charge, before tumbling out of the snakes’ way. Rush pounced on the real Gemini Man to keep him pinned, while Roll dealt with the snakes and turned to their master.

Raising his arms, Snake Man said, “My, this is unfortunate…”

“Where’s the Energy Element?”

“Right over there.” He gestured slowly to a crate in the corner. “By all means, help yourself.”

Keeping her eyes on Snake Man and her buster ready, Roll made her way over to the indicated crate. She grabbed the lid, paused, and lifted it, spotting the Element at the bottom on a bed of something she guessed was packing material. The instant she reached for it, Snake Man darted in Rush’s direction. Roll was ready: she shot him with the Needle Cannon, the spike piercing straight through his chest, and with a drawn out cry Snake Man fell to the floor, his sparking body soon growing still. This still distracted Rush, however, and Gemini Man was able to set another laser loose into the room.

“Get back boy!” Roll shouted as she ran forward, sliding just under the beam’s path.

Rush complied, and Gemini Man sprang to his feet. He leapt back, shimmered, and then jumped to one side, his doppelganger jumping in the opposite direction. Roll hit Snake Man’s body as she passed, armor turning green and white. Three Search Snakes leapt from her buster, zipping along the ground too low for the Gemini Laser to intercept them, all converging upon the real Gemini Man and bringing him down as they sank their fangs into his ankle. Roll launched a Magnet Missile to cancel out the Gemini Laser, and then glared at Gemini Man.

“You...you just got lucky!” Gemini Man said. “If it weren’t for the others holding me back, there’s no way you could have outperformed me!”

Roll shook her head. “What’s the point of this? Why--”

She stopped short as Gemini Man raised his hand to fire a laser. Quickly, she fired a Hard Knuckle in return; the beam reflected off the rocket-propelled fist back into Gemini Man, finishing him off before Roll’s attack even landed. With a harsh sigh, Roll knelt and copied his data, and then transferred the Element to Rush’s storage compartment.

“Let’s hurry home, boy,” she said. “I’m worried about Dr. Light and the others.”

Rush transformed into his jet mode and carried her in the direction of the transporter. Roll tapped her fingers against her leg, thoughts lingering on what Needle Man had said.

There’s someone other than Break Man behind all this. I just hope it’s not who I think it is...

***

Light typed away at his console, eyes repeatedly flicking to the comm window in the corner to see if the connection had reestablished. Wily set a hand on his shoulder, saying, “Thomas, I can handle this if you need some time. I’ll let you know right away when Roll comes back into range.”

“Thank you Albert,” Light said, “but I think it’s best I stay busy.”

“If you insist. The Energy Element is installed, so we’re ready to test as soon as you are.”

“I’m finished here as well. Running test in 3...2...1…”

Light hit one final key and held his breath. Behind him, Gamma roared to life, light shining from the eyes on its half-completed skull. Wily grinned. “Excellent! Let me take a look at those readings!”

Not far away, Rock applauded alongside the construction crew, though he slowed to a halt when he spotted Elec Man in the crowd. He hesitated, but then approached, asking, “Elec Man? Are you okay?”

The other robot shuffled away slightly. “Fine.”

“Okay...it’s just, you’ve been really quiet since the other Energy Elements were stolen. Are you worried?”

He shifted his shoulders. “It’s nothing, Rock.”

“...I don’t want to butt in, but...if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, I’d be happy to help. I mean, I’m your big brother after all! Technically.”

Elec Man finally turned to look at him, expression blank at first. Rock saw him crack a small smile as he turned away again. Giving a sigh, Elec Man quietly said, “I guess I’m worrying you, aren’t I?” He paused. “I’d never quite realized how powerful my abilities were. I had some idea, of course, but now I have a much deeper understanding. After seeing just what I was capable of under Wily’s reprogramming...I suppose I’m afraid. If I were to lose control, even briefly, I could end up destroying someone else, maybe beyond all repair this time. When I destroyed that Robot Master’s projection, I thought I had done just that. That’s why I’m still shaken.”

“Oh. I see…”

Elec Man shook his head. “There isn’t really anything to be done about it. I’ll just have to be as careful as I can.”

Rock waited a moment. “...Have you talked about this with Roll?”

“Roll? No, why?”

“It isn’t exactly the same, but...well, I shouldn’t say too much. But, she’s been struggling a little after having to fight all of you, so she might have some advice that could help you out.”

Elec Man looked up, considering this silently.

Back at his console, Light nodded at the data he was seeing, and prepared to shut Gamma back down. Something caught his eye, stopping him, but before he could look into the matter, the sound of the lift descending reached his ears. He turned, expecting to see LaLinde or Tempo coming to join them. His heart stopped when he laid eyes on Break Man.

“...Blues…?”

Wily noticed him as well. Throwing his hands up, he shouted, “Agh! Break Man! Oh no, this is terrible!”

The worker robots scattered in a panic. As Break Man stepped off the lift, Guts Man came forward to meet him, saying, “Well well well! Looks like you finally decided to stop hiding behind your minions and come face us head-on like a real robot! Good--I was hoping I’d get the chance to deal with you personally!”

Break Man ignored him completely, gaze fixed solely upon Dr. Light. Trembling, the scientist muttered, “Blues...it’s really you...you’re still alive…”

“Hey, tough guy!” Guts Man said. “I’m talking to you.”

Break Man finally faced him.

“Yeah, y--”

Suddenly, Break Man’s armor changed color, becoming purple and white. An instant later, he was behind Guts Man, slowly walking towards Gamma.

“Wh--hey! Get back here!”

Guts Man lunged after Break Man, the other robot’s armor now turning green and white. Four large leaves whipped around Break Man, deflecting Guts Man’s attack before flying out at him, slicing through the small gaps in his armor. Break Man then lifted his buster and activated its beam, knocking Guts Man flat on his back.

“Hold, villain!” Fire Man declared as he bounded forward. “Whatever purpose brought you here, I will not allow you to succeed!”

Break Man’s armor turned white and gray. He and Fire Man both attacked at the same time, Fire Man’s flaming shots soaring high while Break Man generated several bubbles which travelled along the ground. Break Man pulled his shield around just in time, but Fire Man was taken by surprise, the water-based attack shocking him still. Guts Man pushed himself to his feet, but now Break Man’s armor was brown and yellow--he generated a circular saw blade in each hand, and then hurled them straight into the chests of both his opponents, dropping them instantly. After pausing to glare at Light once again, Break Man continued towards Gamma. Activating his laser, he swept it through the scaffolding, setting the gargantuan robot free with a thunderous rain of rubble.

“Is he trying to take Gamma?” Rock said. “We have to stop him!”

Elec Man held him back, saying, “How exactly are you going to do that? You’ll only get yourself killed!”

“But…”

Break Man took a few steps towards the two doctors. Wily cowered, but Light just kept staring at him, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“I thought you were lost forever,” Light said. “Blues...you’re still alive...I’m so glad…”

At this, Break Man froze. Wily said, “Thomas, it’s Break Man! He’s attacking! What are we going to do?”

A smile came to Light’s face. “Blues...I’m so happy you’re alright…”

Wily looked up at him. With a sigh, he said, “Hrm...hardly the reaction I was hoping for.” Now perfectly calm, Wily came forward. “Nonetheless, excellent work, Break Man! Not that I expected anything less.”

Break Man nodded. Rock said, “Wait...what? Didn’t you say you were the one working for Break Man?”

“Neh heh heh, foolish little robot. That was nothing but a genius ruse to gain Light’s trust! I’m the true mastermind here! Nehahahahaha!”

Finally emerging from his trance, Light furrowed his brow as he turned to face Wily. “What? Albert, is--”

He whirled in a fury. “That’s Wily! You will refer to me with respect, Light--never again with familiarity! It’s been agonizing playing along all this time! I thought my skin would crawl right off my bones!” Wily grunted, but then his mouth curled into a smirk. “It was worth it, however. Using your designs, your resources, your labor, I was able to construct this unstoppable war machine in record time! My brilliant plan was a success! And once I unleash Gamma upon the world, not even your precious little lab assistant will be able to stop me! If she even survived her trip to Mars, that is! Nehahahaha!”

“I’m just fine, Wily!”

He winced as Roll’s garbled voice sprang from Light’s terminal. “Rrgh, of course. I knew I should’ve sent the other batch…”

“Dr. Light, are you okay?” Roll asked. “I made it back to the moon and I’m closing in on the transport coordinates! I’ll be there in just a minute!”

“I think not! I took the liberty of encrypting Light’s transporter program--it’ll take him quite a while to get things working again!”

“What’s wrong with you, Wily?! We trusted you!”

Wily waved his hand, turning his back on the console. “Bah, I don’t have to indulge this prattle! All I need to know before I leave is whether or not you retrieved those Energy Elements for me, Roll.”

“There’s no way I’m turning them over to you!”

Wily’s smirk spread into a grin. “Yes, I thought you might say that. Break Man!”

Break Man was suddenly right in front of Rock. He grabbed the robot by the arm and yanked him in Wily’s direction, but then paused. Turning his head, he saw Elec Man standing next to him, two electrified fingers pointed straight at him.

“...Let Rock go,” Elec Man said. “I won’t ask again.”

Break Man let go. Then he was behind Elec Man, stabbing a curved metal boomerang into his back. Rock cried out as Elec Man dropped to his knees. Fighting to stay online, Elec Man fired a bolt of electricity at his foe, only to have it blocked by another set of leaves. Break Man’s armor then turned orange and white. When he aimed his buster at Elec Man, it fired a projectile with a blinking orb on one end and a sharp point on the other, which buried itself in Elec Man’s back. Break Man then kicked him aside, grabbed Rock once again, and dragged him over towards Wily.

“No...I won’t…!” Elec Man struggled to lift his arm, preparing one more attack. The item stuck to his back then detonated.

“Elec Man!” Rock shouted. “No! Let go of me, you…!”

“What’s happening?” Roll asked. “What are you doing?”

“I was thinking a trade might appeal to your sense of fairness,” Wily said. “You give me the Energy Elements, and I’ll return your brother Rock to you!”

“Roll, don’t worry about me!” Rock said. Break Man clamped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else.

“Oh, you really should. If I don’t get my hands on those Elements, I’ll reduce him to scrap metal!”

“Wily,” Roll said, “you--”

“Wily!”

The entire room went dead silent at Light’s sudden shout. He leveled a stern gaze at Wily--the look that may not have been harsh in its own right, but out of place as it was on Light’s kind face, the jarring, eerie feeling it generated multiplied its weight exponentially.

“I won’t forgive you if you harm my children.”

“Ah, so that’s what it takes to get you mad,” Wily said. “How interesting! Don’t you think, Break Man?”

The red Robot Master said nothing, only tightening his grip on Rock.

“Blues,” Light said, “I--”

“Save it, Light!” Wily interrupted. “You have my demands. I’ll be waiting for my Elements!”

Wily pulled a small device from his pocket. At the press of a button, he, Break Man, Rock, and Gamma all disappeared into thin air. Light’s fierce expression vanished as well, replaced by a look of absolute terror.

#Mega Man #Roll #fanfiction #Super Fighting Roll #Roll Reversal

4 notes · View notes

babbushka · 5 years

Text

Bath

Medieval!Kylo x Reader (Set in the All My Stars universe)

2.4k ; no real warnings, just a lot of fluff :^)

---------

You are sitting in the throne room, when the news comes. All at once, someone bursts through the heavy stone doors, early morning light flooding into the spacious area with it. All helmets and veils turn towards the intrusion, the guards which have been sworn to watch you in your husband’s wake have their swords drawn, prepared.

But it is just a squire, a young boy out of breath, hair flopping in his face as he braces himself on his knees before bowing deeply before you.

“Your Majesty, they’ve arrived.” The squire announces, and your pulse jumps in excitement.

Kylo is home, you think, elated, he has come home.

You are out of your throne in an instant, and before anyone can have a chance to react, you have lightly grabbed the squire’s hand and are running alongside him out of the hall.

“Bring me to him at once.” Your feet carry you swiftly through the long room, two lines of people on either side of the plush carpet bowing and curtsying as you pass them. “Please prepare the baths! He is sure to be covered from toe to nose in mud.” You laugh, unable to contain your joy.

You run after the squire as he takes you through the grounds to the back gate where Kylo and his Knights of Ren can be seen leading an impressively sized army just beyond the hills. Heavy bells are tolled and trumpets are sounded to alert the castle’s town of their arrival, and those living in the area all flock to the hillside where they await their loved ones.

You do not wait, however, and as the people cheer when the banners of Alderaan proudly wave in the morning mist, you abandon the squire, gathering your skirts in your hands as you push your legs ever faster.

Kylo is atop Samantha only until he sees you charging towards him. He halts his steed so that he may jump off of her, and soon he is closing the distance on foot between you.

Your bodies collide with a deafening applause from the crowds, and as the army rushes around you to meet with their wives, mothers and children they had missed, you embrace your husband. Your soul has soared high into the sky, you laugh and laugh has Kylo twirls your body around and around, refuses to let your feet touch the ground.

“Do you return to me in victory?” You work to yank his helmet off of his head, cup his mail-covered cheeks and kiss his dirt-stained lips. They are chapped, and they are bruised, but they kiss you back and he is alive and that is all that matters.

“I have brought another crown for you to wear.” Kylo says, and your eyes grow wide when this is no metaphor, when he sets you down just long enough that he can pull a golden and jewel encrusted headpiece, one with the most ornamentation you could have imagined.

“All hail King Kylo.” You grin, so proud of him, so proud of his army, your army. You appraise the state of him, the red splotches of adrenaline and border-line hysteria from the thrill of the win in his sparkling eyes, the way he is absolutely covered in dirt and dried blood. “You are filthy.”

Kylo only grins at you, teeth stained red from the battle he has so valiantly fought. He hoists you onto Samantha, climbing behind you. The horse only protests at the combined weight of the both of you for a moment, before she too is galloping through the town to catch up with the army.

The town makes way for the two of you, cheering and chanting in support of the King. They throw flower petals and confetti up into the air as the bells toll and the trumpets sound, music fit for a celebration. There would be a grand feast this night, a grand one indeed.

You leave Sam in the capable hands of the stable boys, and though he must be exhausted, Kylo chases you up the castle stairs, pinching at your back and thighs to keep you in high spirits, playful and simply so happy to be home, happy to be back with you.

He chases you all the way to the bathing room, where two large wooden tubs lined with linen to protect from splinters have been filled with boiling hot water. The water is filled with both all manner of natural oils that give it a healthy fragrance and beneficial properties, and flower petals for decoration which float to the top. The steam which rises from the basin fogs the glass of the windows, sticks to the inky black armor which Kylo has become so famous for.

“Where are your wounds, O warrior king?” You ask, drawing a love heart into his chest-plate, closing your eyes and leaning up to kiss him properly, kiss him privately.

You swiftly remove his armor, all four layers of plate and chain, the protective padding which needs to be mended, slashes in the garment an evidence of an attempting stabbing. But when you peel away the last layer of sweat and blood crusted fabric, when he is standing naked before you, you find his flesh blessedly unmarred, save for a few nicks and scratches.

“They are far and few in between, none so deadly this time.” Kylo replies, a soothing thumb on your cheek as he licks hot copper into your mouth. “Will you join me?”

He means the bath, and you nod straight away. No one would be able to prevent you from staying right by his side, not now that he has returned after three weeks of a campaign.

“Always.” You breathe, before you are shedding your own layers, a much faster endeavor than removing his armor. You leave it all on a heap on the floor, someone will come and take them away when you are done, you pay it no mind. “Help me in, I fear my knees are too weak whenever you are near, I can scarcely keep myself held upright, let alone climb into a tub.”

Kylo only grins at you, appraises your body. He has no doubt missed you in his time away, for you have missed him terribly, and he always has been so incredibly drawn to you. You give him your hand and he is a steady weight for you to lean on as you both step into the piping hot bath.

Baths like this were a luxury, a privilege, fit only for royalty. But royalty you were, and as you both sink down down down under the water, as your skin flushes and reddens at the heat of it, neither of you can hold in the great sigh of relief which leaves your lips.

Already Kylo looks cleaner. The loose dirt and particles have already begun to wash off, sinking to the bottom of the tub. But you know it will take some scrubbing to remove it all, so after a kiss or two, your wet hands drip over the basin for a moment so you may grab a small bar of soap and a wash cloth made of striped linen that has been set on a stool near the tub.

The grime is stubborn, but you are even more so, and with each pass of the lathered cloth, the water grows more and more cloudy. This is why the second tub has been prepared, so that once the dirt is removed, you both may lounge in the new, clean hot water. Simmering coals underneath it keep it from growing cold while you spend time in the first bath.

Washing the King is considered a true gift, nothing short of an honor. The monarchs before you would use their baths as a display of power, of wealth. At least three men or women would douse the King in perfumed water from golden goblets, would do so with their own heads bowed, grateful, thankful for the opportunity to serve the King so.

But you and Kylo have changed this, have deviated from the rules. No one is allowed in this sacred space, no one may see you or him together like this. It is an intimate time for you, and washing your husband’s skin is less of an honor and more of a bonding moment – not that the two of you could grow much closer.

Underneath the water, Kylo’s hands brush against your skin, caress your body, bring you to sit on his lap, straddling him. You smile as he tries to clean you in return, laugh as his touch tickles. There is still dirt underneath his fingernails, but he is far more concerned with cupping his palms and dousing your shoulders with the water to keep your exposed skin from shivering.

Playfully, you toss the cloth straight at his face, covering it entirely. He shakes it off and lunges for you, splashes water all across the stone floors, your laughs echoing loudly no doubt for all those in the hall outside to hear. You swim away from him, as far as the relatively small basin will allow, swim away until he snatches you round the middle, but you grab his jaw in your hand, hold it just an inch or two away from your own which he desperately wants to kiss.

“You do not make this easy, you know.” He growls, and you only raise your eyebrows in jest, as your other hand drifts down below the water to tease the thick patch of hair that leads down to his proud cock.

“Good, I should like to be as difficult as possible.” You muse, holding his face still as you come only close enough to rub the tips of your noses together, “It’ll keep you on your toes.”

Kylo rolls his eyes and you release him, thinking he’ll behave. He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, his hands all over you as you attempt to scrub the muck out of his beautiful raven locks.

“I wish to wash your hair.” He pouts, hands already reaching for the pins which keep your hair tied up and away, purposefully left dry.

“No my darling, it was just washed a night ago.” You explain, ducking away from him, and he doesn’t like the sound of this, grumbles and is set to complain.

“But – ”

“You may wash it at the week’s end, I promise.” You cut him off with a kiss once you have cleansed his teeth with a bristled brush, once they shine white once more.

“How do I look?” Kylo asks, satisfied with that compromise.

“Handsome.” You reply honestly, and he grows shy, always grows shy when you compliment his features. “Let us move to the second bath, this one has gone thick with sludge.” You decide, his skin smooth and cleansed like new.

The second tub is meant for relaxing, for leisure. There are bundles of cloth wound and rolled into pillows, submerged in the water, and Kylo leans his head against one as he pulls your back to his chest.

Your knees stick out of the water slightly, and he slides his hands around you to cover them, lest you grow cold. Your head is nestled against his strong shoulder, face turned towards your husbands. He in turn, has his face to yours, and the two of you simply breathe in the scent of the clean water, press soft kisses to the corners of each other’s mouths.

“You have doubled the size of our kingdom with this win, you realize this?” You whisper with pride, and he smiles, for yes, he does.

“We will manage well.” Kylo is sure, his hands retreating from your knees to wedge between your thighs, simply enjoying the feeling of being sandwiched there. “Naboo was quick to surrender, they remember the kind ruling of my grandmother, and I have promised to uphold her legacy with pride. I hope for us to build a new castle there, the scenery rivals that of anything I have seen, you would no doubt love spending the summer months there.”

Kylo does not speak this much unless he is particularly excited about something, although his reserved tone would not dare betray such feelings. Still, you know him well enough now to know he is genuinely thrilled, pleased, even if his voice is soft and low.

“Tell me of it.” You encourage as you let your eyes close, let yourself imagine the place which your husband has won for you.

“It is the Lake Country, this I am certain of. Grand cascading lakes which fall off the side of cliffs, which send spray sparkling into the sky. Light glitters like diamonds on the blue of the water, I have never seen such a serene place. Alderaan will be better for it, with this victory.” Kylo’s hands trace idle patterns against your skin, and you can feel his fingertips have begun to turn into raisins.

“I do believe some celebration of your victory is in order when we remove ourselves from this bath.” You grin, grasping his hands in your own, twining the fingers together.

“Celebration of what sort, goddess divine?” Kylo asks, cheeky, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“First I think I shall ride you into oblivion, and then we shall feast and dance with the people, honor the soldiers who have fought so well beside you.” You go nearly cross-eyed to look at him from such an angle as the one you are in, but still you can see the way a dark hunger pools in his eyes.

“Pray tell, why must we wait for the bath to be over to begin such a celebration?” He licks his lips, and you can only bite at his lower lip, bruise the reddened flesh there.

“Because I want to be in our bed when you make me scream.” You whisper against his lips.

He is moving comically quickly when he manhandles you so you both can stand, can climb over the tub and onto the soft floor mat so neither of you slip on the wet stone floor. All at once he is breaking the peace with his newfound excitement and eagerness, and you laugh and yelp as he does only as much as wrap a long sheet around you tying one only around his hips, before he hoists you up and over his shoulder with ease.

There are many a back passage to the royal bedchambers, and you know that his expert legs will carry you to your bed with ease, where he can then absolutely make you scream.

As you lightly punch his strong back in jest, you are only glad that you suggested such a thing once the two of you were clean.

-----------

Tagging medieval loving pals once again lol sorry if this is annoying just want to share the love! <3 @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @autumnlovesadam @solotriplets @driverficarchive @kylo-renne @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @joannapenguin @whiskey-bumblebee @passengereve @venusianmaiden @callmehopeless @sarcasticallyhateful @ilikebritsandbands @tinyplanet-explorers @kittyofalltrades @princessofpow @softcrybabykid @inkstaineddaughter @wonderneverland562 @magikevalynn @ellie-emb

#reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #kylo ren imagine #medieval au #my writing

343 notes · View notes