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crispyjenkins · 4 years

Note

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

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“Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

“Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

“Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes.

The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

“I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

“And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

“He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

“He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

“I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

“Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

“Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

“Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

“Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

“Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

“I did.”

“I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice.

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir — an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”.

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jksangelic · 6 years

Text

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: romance, angst, dry humor, smut, undergroundrapper!yoongi (don’t be fooled, yoongi is a soft lover in this), one-shot (divided for the sake of a functioning mobile tumblr)

↳ pairing: yoongi x reader

↳ parts: 1 | 2 | 3

↳ word count: 2.8k

↳ a/n: here’s the first part! second part comes tmro, and third comes the next day, both releasing at 10PM PST! please look forward to them heehehehe.

this part does not contain smut, only light swearing and maybe some sensual themes? i don’t remember lol. it’s also not very edited hehe i’ll come back to it.

*each squiggly divider represents a flashback, straight divider represents current time*

Yoongi preferred the heat set to exactly eighty degrees Fahrenheit, which was utterly ridiculous. It caused you to toss and turn in a pool of unattractive, and possibly foul-smelling, sweat all throughout the night. Even more so, he trapped you with his own limbs, protecting you like that stupid dog from Tom and Jerry protected that awfully large and awfully raw steak. You’ve fallen in and out of consciousness because of it, surely waking up every thirty minutes while the man slept like a log.

But it was wonderful.

You open your eyes for the umpteenth time, assuring he’s still attached to the hip and planting a kiss on his forehead sleepily. What a dream it would be to stay like this forever, you think, tossing the idea away as quickly as it came. It was punishing as is and you dare not tie the noose around your own neck.

You scan the room, curtains drawn closed and tv silently flicking through commercials, casting a dim width of light onto the bed. It must still be pretty early in the morning, you assume, a bittersweet realization.

Enjoy the moment, you correct yourself, be happy that you were able to have this. So you peer down at him through foggy vision, his eyes closed and mean, twitching a bit enough that you suppose he’s dreaming of something himself. Nudging your face into his hair, which smelled faintly of smoke and peaches, you force yourself back into slumber.

For the first time tonight, you sleep deeply.

Wondering how the hell anyone was permitted admission after the venue breached occupancy threefold, you rub at the aching spot of your ribs that your neighbor unintentionally keeps jabbing. You attempt to peer over the sea of heads anyway, looking for that goddamned girl that dragged you here in the first place. Where was she? Why was she so short? Why did you wear heels to a concert?

Never did you suspect you would be pushed against barricade at 11PM on a Thursday, waiting for an artist you have never heard. The sweat that accumulates, quite frankly, everywhere was probably starting to stain your clothes at this point. The beauty of public outings.

“Y/N! Y/N! Right here!” screams the woman of your nightmares, waving maniacally more towards the middle of the crowd than you but nevertheless farther than you would like to travel in this density. You make your trek, apologizing profusely as full-grown adults glare at you for moving, oh help them all.

“I will have your head for this,” you yell into her ear, gripping the divider to ease the stinging pain stemming from your toes.

“Lighten up, you’re at a concert that you got into for free, for heaven’s sake,” Chungha pouts, bopping her head happily to whatever DJ was opening for her beloved. “I think you’ll like these guys, anyway. Really good rappers, up-and-coming and all that good stuff.”

“Yeah, if they even show up. This poor dude has been playing for over an hour. Do you suppose his fingers hurt from pressing all those buttons?” She rolls her eyes in a way that says, please stop already. You really just want to know.

If this DJ had any influence of what the main act would be, you would rather just leave, plain and simple. This wasn’t really your thing in the first place, Overwatch and Red Dead Redemption (not one, but TWO!) sounding much more appealing than listening to EDM’s Worst Hits. But Chungha was a sweetheart who you’d marry in an instant, and when she asked you to come and claimed she already got you a ticket because she knew you couldn’t possibly say no to her, well, you couldn’t possibly say no to her.

You even dressed up for the occasion, a mix of Instagram baddie and Tumblr aesthetic (a sum of words you’d never like to use again) smooshed into one oddly cute outfit, if you did say so yourself.

It wasn’t worth your time.

But then the music starts changing pace, lights changing colors and dimming and smoke machines going ham and you suppose it’s finally starting. Three men walk out, one with orange hair and a long but pretty nose, heart mouth showcasing the straightest teeth you’ve ever seen on a human being, the second slightly shorter, bleached hair styled messily and the hand holding his mic covered in rings, the final with a smirking dimple, leading them out and hyping up the crowd with a few welcoming words that you don’t quite make out.

“There’s three,” you state dumbly.

“Great job counting! Remind me to give you a cookie later,” Chungha retorts halfheartedly, much more intrigued by seeing these men in person, “The guy in front is RM, he’s their leader. Blonde is Suga. J-Hope is the sexy one—HOSEOK OPPA!” She screams as if she’s been struck with a spatula, eyes wide and focusing.

You like their style, you’ll give them that. RM starts the song strong, lyrics so quick and diction so clear that it sounds as if he’s rapping directly to you. They all bounce around the stage, people at barricade, including your friend, reaching out and bobbing along in synchronization. J-Hope follows suit, stage presence oddly intimidating and seductive concurrently, his body more fluid and powerful than any dancer you’ve seen before. You can see why he would be the ladies’ man, lying to yourself if you said your eyes haven’t focused on his hips more often than not.

And without warning, Suga bursts into his own lines, atmosphere changing almost immediately when he brings the mic to his mouth. It’s hypnotic, his words continuously stringing out without break, without a single beat missed. You watch in fear. As the crowd around you screams and attempts to chime in, Suga steps closer and closer to them, squatting down right in front of where you stand and finishing his part with a deep, breathy note. He sits there as both men and women (and Chunga) paw at him and for the smallest of moments, do you think, his eyes lock on you.

It sets you on fire.

Yoongi always made it a point to study the faces of his fans out of appreciation. It would be foolish to say he’d be able to recognize each and every person he’s ever encountered, but he knows you were one to sketch into the archives of his mind. It doesn’t help that you are the only one, mouth slightly agape and teeth biting the inside of your cheek, completely still and studying. For the first time in a while, he feels intimidated; self-conscious even. More than a listener amongst the energetic mob, you look more like a critic.

It makes him shiver.

I would be his groupie in a heartbeat, you think, no doubt that he too is infamous around women wherever he goes. Whatever the matter, seeing this enigma of a man was worth your whole night’s experience.

I love, I love, I love myself! The audience screams, bass intensifying as the other two reach for water bottles propped on the stage. I love, I love, I love myself!

J-Hope throws in some ad-libs, sipping from his water before chucking the lid entirely, Namjoon putting a hand to his ear to egg everyone on and holding his own water above. You still stand in place, astonished how ethereal someone can look on stage and you instantaneously understand why people barricade. Suga catches you again, still squatted in the same position, possibly too lazy to get a water for himself but lets his brothers do what they must, and grins subtly.

You must look absolutely moronic gaping at this man, tongue-in-cheek impressed and hands barely gripped around the bars while everyone else around strains to be closer to the stars of the night.

I love, I love, I love myself! Y’all player hater, you should love yourself!

And that’s when you get—at least, half of a water bottle’s worth of water thrown at your direction. Right in front of the newfound man of your dreams. Everyone else screams madly, acting like these gods have blessed their parched souls with water after days on end, while you now look a little like a wet dog dressed in a hoochie skirt. You shrug, wiping at whatever was worth attempting to dry and thanking the gods that your makeup wasn’t running.

“Oh my god, your shirt is soaked!” Chungha lately notices, head whipping back and forth from the boys to you, back to the boys just in case she was missing something important.

“I would sell myself for that man,” you deadpan, not even blinking towards her.

“Suga? I bet he would accept if you managed to offer it to him.”

“I would easily give him all of the money in my savings right now.”

“You don’t have a savings. Pay attention.”

So you did.

You relished in every part Suga had, finally gathering up enough brain cells to at least rock with everyone else. Every song was like a lucid dream, the concert high really resonating with you. Either that, or you were literally high off of how much smoke there was. Gotta love rap concerts.

Perhaps it was the luck of the opening song, but Suga didn’t make eye contact with you again, a beaten disappointment gurgling in your stomach. But instead of behaving as a kicked puppy and moping about losing every possible chance that the blonde devil would bring you atop the stage and dedicate his serenade of sorts strictly to your face in front of hundreds of people--well, the chances were nearly zero. We're not all winners.

Suga continues on, trying not to focus on the girl with the sharp eyes that makes him clammy to the point where his throat threatens to constrict on him, which isn't optimal. He finishes song after song with his brothers, taking long enough breaks in between to catch his breath and focus on the bigger picture: that there was an entire crowd to please and not just you. Besides, there would always be a pretty or handsome face no matter where he went, he was Suga, goddammit, he wasn't a high school horndog ready to pounce on every intriguing entity he just casually glanced at. That role was a style more befitting for his brothers.

Upon your cognizance that this group was downright brilliant, the concert ends much sooner than you would have liked it. And just like that, the three send their love and are ushered behind the stage. It takes a while for the swarm to dissipate, interlacing your fingers with Chungha's to insure you don't lose her again.

"So, I take it you liked them," she giggles, forehead sheen with sweat because holy shit it's so fucking hot in here.

"They are really... talented. I award proper recognition when it's truly deserved." Tired of waiting, you practically shove your way past the bodies, dragging your poor friend behind you and bee-lining for the entrance.

"Wait! Do you want to get merch?" You twitch your nose, not entirely opposing the idea.

"Are you sure you don't want to just hop in? I'll pay for you!" Chungha cries, halfway into her Uber.

"Sis, I live down the street, I promise I'll be fine. I'll call you when I get home."

"That's so far!"

"I'm walking away now. Go home."

She harrumphs once for effect before waving goodbye, Prius soundlessly whooshing away while your best friend sticks her tongue out at you in the back window. You laugh at her foolishness before spinning on your heel and making your way.

It was just the right amount of chilly, breeze cooling you down a notch. You bet your ass you would remember this night forever, writing a mental note to check out the group on every social platform there was when you got home.

You skirt down a corner of the building, aiming for the route of your apartment--or, at least, where you think it is? "Sense of direction" surely wasn't the best trait on your resume. Walking down the dim street, you notice a few trickling souls walking in and out of the building, probably help from the venue closing up. It's when you see Suga, attempting to light his cigarette and leaning against a black van that you stop like a deer in headlights.

"Suga!" you point and exclaim like a child.

"... Wanna say that any louder, toots?" He chuckles, though, seemingly pleased rather than offended. He scoffs at his empty lighter, tucking the thing in his pocket and leaving his cigarette unlit on his lips.

"S-Sorry. My bad. Do you, uh, need a light?" you offer apologetically, digging through your purse to grab your lucky lighter, an embarrassing bright pink thing with Betty Boop floating in the middle.

"Thanks," he smiles, grabbing the lighter from your hand and flicking it to life as he takes a drag. "Do you smoke?"

"Not cigarettes. Honestly, I already regret offering that to you. That's a bad habit to kick," you sigh, taking it back when he hands it to you.

"Don't I know it." He glances up at your face when he returns your lighter, showing a regretful smirk but studying your face in the process. Well, hell, if it wasn't for the barricade critic.

"I recognize you," he continues, "you were up front, right?"

"Oh, god, I can't believe you remember that."

His heart skips at the match, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth and pushing himself off the van. "You, uh, looked unimpressed. Got me worried that I lost my game for a bit."

"No! I wasn't unimpressed at all. I'm just a new fan, I guess. My friend brought me. I think I was just in awe, if anything. I even got this hood--"

You quite literally bite your tongue, wishing you could slap your face at the outburst, realization running over you like a train.

"You got what?" he presses, a sly curiousness brimming.

"N-Nothing. You were good. That's all."

"'That's all'? Geez, you're really putting me down over here, toots." He throws the butt and stomps it out, "Those eyes of yours really made me nervous."

Your eyes? How smooth of him. "Oh, I doubt that. You seemed just fine to me."

He hesitates to respond; what exactly are you trying to get at here? Sweet and sour, he supposes. It's interesting to him compared to the countless amount of substance-less gals that suck up to him to simply suck him. New fans certainly were feisty, he supposes.

"Do you live around here?" he asks.

"Are you going to stalk me? Yes."

"Well, if I was, you probably shouldn't have said yes before I answered. But luckily, no." He sticks out his hand, clad with rings of, you're sure of, soaring prices beyond what you can imagine for jewelry, "I'm Min Yoongi. But I guess everyone kinda just calls me Suga now. You can call me Yoongi, if you'd like. Can I ask for your name?"

You take his hand softly, hoping he doesn't notice the way you shrink in it because heavens that near-zero chance of meeting Suga certainly did skyrocket. "It's Y/N."

"Mm, pretty," he comments surely. "Well, Y/N. We're actually going to be here for a while, just finished a few shows here and there and decided to take a break until we can figure out bigger plans," he's talking too much, "Anyway, would you want to hang out sometime?"

You shiver in astonishment, what was happening here? What kind of lucky star flew over your head for this? Your goosebumps had goosebumps.

"That... Yeah, that would be great! Do you... Do you want my number?"

"Would love it," he declares, taking his phone out and setting up your contact without delay.

"Do you do this much? Snag a girl's number after a show?" you joke as you type in your number. Yoongi snorts.

"Girls don't necessarily talk to me in a well-respected manner, let alone offer me a light."

"Well, don't expect that last bit anymore. Smoking really is a pet-peeve of mine," you warn. Who were you to warn him of something you didn't like? Idiot!

"Yes, ma'am. I'll shoot you a text sometime. Was nice meeting you," he says, watching you nod and smile and wave goodbye as you continue on home, Suga's name printed enormously on the back of the new sweatshirt you bought from the merch stand. He bites back a snicker, picking at the hair on his neck before walking back inside.

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feferipeixes · 5 years

Text

Lucy Ann & the Lunch Bunch - Chapter 2

The year is 3512, and pro-nat ideologies are gaining a political foothold in the United States. It's not a safe time for preters, so Lucy Ann decides to lay low... by pretending to be a first grader.

She was planning on just waiting for this to all blow over, but, well... some old habits die hard. Don Pines would be proud, if a bit exasperated. That dummy Alcor would be proud too but he really needs to chill so she's going to keep him happily out of the loop.

Chapter 2: First Grade Is (Not So) Boring (link to chapter 1)

Thanks to @toothpastecanyon for being the best beta reader!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

This fic uses underlined text to indicate dialogue in sign language, but Tumblr doesn't show the underlines on mobile for some reason. Recommend viewing on desktop or just reading it on AO3 instead.

===

“Okay, it’s time for school, and -- oh stars, this is an absolute nightmare, I’m, I don’t know -”

Lucy Ann frowned at Alcor. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Of course it will! I trust you completely!” He giggled nervously, but the twitch in his face did not dissipate. “But if anything does happen, I got a phone so you can call me -- I know they’re called communicators now, so don’t call them phones in public, it’ll totally blow your cover and they’ll take you away forever -”

“Tyrone.”

“Actually, screw the phone number, you know my circle, and Lane has it stitched into her coat, but I really don’t want her cutting herself to activate it, so you should stay with her at all times and be ready to offer some yourself, I’m sure I’ve got a lancet around here somewhere -”

“Tyrone.”

“Wait, what am I saying, you’re a vampire, that won’t work -- maybe I have some spare candles I can throw in your bag for emergencies, stars above how do I not have spare candles littered around the house -”

“TYRONE!”

Alcor froze, and looked down at Lucy Ann, who had a big scowl on her face. “Y-yes?”

“Dude. You need to calm down. We talked about this.” She climbed onto a chair to get a bit closer to his eye level. “We’re going to elementary school, not Florida. I’ve got this.”

“Yeah, but just in case -”

“Nope. I’ve got this. You promised you wouldn’t intervene -- we had a deal.”

He tensed up for a moment, and then let out a long, fake exhale. “Okay. You’re right. Please, just be careful, alright?”

Lucy Ann sighed, but her expression softened. “I can do that. I’m not actually a six year old, remember?” She jumped off the chair, and stood next to Lane, who had remained silent through the entire conversation. “She’ll be perfectly safe with me around, and no one will suspect a thing.”

Alcor smiled. “I know. I trust you -- you’re a good friend.”

“Whoa, a bit sappy in the morning, are ya?” She elbowed Lane playfully, and then winced when she remembered that Lane couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Lane, for her part, didn’t react to being elbowed. She did notice Lucy Ann staring at her, and signed “We go?”

“Almost,” Lucy Ann responded.

She turned back to Alcor. “She’s ready to go.”

“Okay.” He picked up two backpacks and handed one of them to her. “I packed you both lunches -- I know that wasn’t part of the deal but I wanted to make sure you had something you could eat.”

Lucy Ann rolled her eyes, but then smiled and slipped on the backpack. “Thanks.”

He smiled, and gave the other backpack to Lane. “I want a full report of the day when you get home, alright?”

“Yeah, you too buddy. Don’t forget your end of the deal. You better have some good ‘being a human’ stories for me, or you won’t be hearing a word about how boring first grade is.”

His expression faltered, and Lucy Ann watched his mouth flap open and shut several times. He finally tilted his head and put on a saccharine smile. “Of course! We had a deal, and I definitely haven’t found any loopholes in it. Nope!” He clapped his hands together giddily. “Now, I’ve put a few notebooks in your backpack, just to make sure you have enough space to record your thoughts about the day -”

“Bye Tyrone!” Lucy Ann interrupted. She grabbed Lane’s hand and pulled her toward the door.

“Okay, be safe you two!” He called as they left. “I’m- yes, I’m okay Lane, don’t you worry about me! Uncle Tyrone is going to be fine, just try and have a good day for me, okay?”

Lucy Ann glanced at Lane. She was staring blankly at Alcor, who was most likely talking to her telepathically again. Lucy Ann wasn’t sure why Alcor always spoke out loud when he communicated with Lane like this -- perhaps it was for her sake, but it didn’t really help all that much when she couldn’t hear Lane’s side of the conversation.

They exited the house, and walked to the end of the driveway. Lucy Ann looked back at the house to see Alcor pressed up against the front door, watching them leave. She snickered at how ridiculous he looked -- a grown man clinging to a screen door as if he was trapped in it.

Definitely funnier than a 6000 year old vampire going to elementary school.

They clambered on the bus together and sat in the same seat as before. Lucy Ann stared out the window and tried to watch the houses go by, but it wasn’t relaxing her like it had the day before. Alcor’s hysteria had set her a little on edge -- what if this wouldn’t actually be as easy as she thought? She was, after all, hiding from the government. If she couldn’t even be sure of her own safety, how could she be sure of Lane’s?

She turned to Lane and signed, “Who is your teacher?”

“Parsnip,” she replied, spelling out the name instead of using a sign.

“I didn’t see you in class yesterday.”

“I was at the ASL class all day. Today it’s only one hour.”

Lucy Ann frowned. That was a bit of a problem -- being in different classes would make it harder for her to look after Lane. She’d have to see if she could attend the ASL class.

---

“Alright, class, how about this one? Can anyone tell me what four plus seven is?” Hands went up. “Yes, Jimmy!” Hands went down.

Excitement turned to caution. “It’s, uhhhh, it’s eleven!”

Mrs. Parsnip smiled with a level of honesty that Lucy Ann could barely fathom. “Very good!”

First grade was boring. First grade was really boring. Lucy Ann knew this would be the case -- she’d been a first grader many times before. It never really sank in, though, just how tedious and draining it would be to sit in a classroom all day being talked down to like she was a child.

But then again, that was the entire point. Someone looking like her but acting like an adult would immediately arouse suspicion. No, it was better for her to blend in, tone down, and tune out. She could wait this pro-nat regime out and come up smiling on the other side of it -- after all, time was something she had an awful lot of.

Still, her grip on her pencil tightened in irritation every time she was asked to sound out a three letter word. Every time she was asked to add two one-digit numbers. Every time she was asked to identify different shapes. She couldn’t help but be jealous of Lane, who was getting to learn a language while she was stuck trying not to scream every time someone misspelled their own name. She felt it wearing away at her patience, but she couldn’t snap because she needed to blend in, not only for herself now but also for Lane.

So far, it didn’t look like watching over Lane at school would be much of a problem. Not only were they in the same class, but their names were adjacent alphabetically, so they were sitting next to each other. On top of that, the classroom had pair desks, which meant that she and Lane would be as close as physically possible for most of the school day. The only real problem so far was that Lane had the ASL class in the morning...

There was a loud creak. Everyone turned to see the door to the classroom swing open, revealing Lane’s small figure in the frame.

“Hi,” Mrs. Parsnip signed at Lane. “It’s nice to see you. You can sit next to Lucy Ann.” She pointed at Lucy Ann rather than spelling out her name or using a sign.

Lane waved at Mrs. Parsnip, and stepped into the room, followed by a tall man wearing tiny spectacles. Lane sat down next to Lucy Ann, and the man walked to the front of the class to stand beside Mrs. Parsnip.

“Class, this is Mr. Avenel,” Mrs. Parsnip announced, and the man started signing as she spoke. “He’s going to be helping us out this year by repeating what I say in sign language. Say hi!”

A chorus of “hi” echoed through the room, and Lucy Ann rolled her eyes. Mrs. Parsnip smiled, and went back to her lesson.

“Here’s another one! Can anyone tell me what two plus two is?”

Several kids raised their hands, squealing excitedly in the hopes of being called on. Mrs. Parsnip put on a show of thinking over who to call on, which was probably supposed to be fun for the kids but it made Lucy Ann feel like time was slowing down.

She glanced at Lane, who gave her a little wave. It was good to see her again -- she was a little more nervous about being separated from her than she would ever admit to Alcor. But Lane seemed fine, and everything was okay, except for the fact that she was so goddamn bored.

“Maria, how about you?”

The girl to the right of Lucy Ann grinned, opened her mouth, and then faltered. “Um… uh… it’s… oh I know this…”

“FOUR!” Lucy Ann screamed internally, “IT’S FOUR! THIS IS THE EASIEST ONE IN THE BOOK AND WE DID IT YESTERDAY!”

“It’s um… three!”

Lucy Ann’s head hit the desk. “I’m going to burn the school to the ground,” she thought. She wondered how long she could just lie on her desk before Mrs. Parsnip noticed and told her to pay attention. Not long enough, she was sure.

She felt Lane’s hand slide into hers, and an odd sense of relief trickled into her mind. Surprised, Lucy Ann picked up her head and glanced at her again, and got the same blank-faced wave as before. She returned it after a moment, and turned back to the teacher.

For whatever reason, the rest of the lesson didn’t seem so bad.

---

Lucy Ann took a bite of her sandwich, and gagged on the -- yuck, what was that, tuna? She let it fall out of her mouth onto a napkin. Alcor promised her a lunch that she could eat, and this definitely wasn’t it, which meant...

Shit. She waved frantically at Lane before she could bite into the other sandwich. “I have your lunch!”

Lane blinked and put the sandwich down. Lucy Ann peeked under the top slice of bread and... yep. Lane would not have enjoyed eating that. She handed Lane her lunch and started eating her own.

Lunch was a much needed break from the tedium of the classroom. It was still pretty boring, but at least she didn’t have to pay attention to anything at lunch. She and Lane were sitting at a table by themselves, which was unsurprisingly the quietest table in the yard. The other students were busy arguing and laughing with food in their mouths, and when they finished their lunches, they got right up and ran around the playground. Meanwhile, when Lane and Lucy Ann finished their lunches, Lane just held Lucy Ann’s hand again and the two continued to sit at their table without speaking.

Lane seemed content to just stare ahead into the distance, so Lucy Ann rested her head on the table and zoned out. There was a lot to think about, but she’d already been thinking about it all morning, and all of last night. What did she usually do to entertain herself when she hid out at a school like this? If only she had someone to talk to...

Lane's grip on her hand tightened.

"You're not human, are you?"

Lucy Ann looked up. There were two boys standing by the table. The first was about Lucy Ann's height, thin with very short dirty-blond hair, and was wearing something between a scowl and a smirk. The other was a bit stockier in a way that was strange to see on someone so young, had shoulder-length brown hair, and looked more bemused than anything else.

She frowned. "What?"

The blond boy -- the speaker from before -- grumbled. "You're not human. You're a preter."

Well. Getting her cover blown on day two of elementary school was a bit earlier than she expected. But this was a kid. Maybe she could still salvage this. So she put on a sickly-sweet voice and fluttered her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, that's not going to work. I can tell you're not human. What are you?"

Lucy Ann faked a cough. "I don't know. I'm pretty human. That's what my parents say, anyway."

She felt a squeeze on her hand again, and turned to Lane, who had a slightly pained look on her face. She used her free hand to sign "Are you okay?"

Lane cringed, but then nodded. "Who is that?"

“I don’t know. I’ll tell him to leave.”

Lane shook her head. “I think we can trust him.”

“What? Why?” Lucy Ann said aloud, confusion written all over her face. She spun around and was met again with the boy’s unblinking stare. There was something off about it, now that she thought about it -- something she occasionally saw in that dork Alcor: age, where it surely didn’t belong, behind the eyes of a child.

Maybe her cover wasn’t blown after all.

“Alright, Einstein,” she responded, shifting back into her regular voice. “You got me. I’m a vampire. What do you want?”

The brown-haired boy boggled. “Wow, really?” He elbowed his friend. “You’re really good at this.”

“Yeah, I know.” The blond one grimaced, not taking his eyes off Lucy Ann. “What’s your name?”

Lucy Ann frowned. “Doesn’t matter. You can call me Lucy Ann, though. What about you?”

The blond kid coughed, his expression broken for the first time since he’d started talking to her. “It’s, uh…” He scratched his head, and Lucy Ann raised an eyebrow. “Derek. It’s Derek.”

The brown-haired boy raised his hand. “I’m Andy.”

“Great,” Lucy Ann said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Oh, and this is Lane.”

She quickly relayed their names to Lane in ASL, and Lane waved at them. Derek flinched.

“What is she doing here?” he stammered.

Lucy Ann stared at him. “What are you talking about? She’s a first grader, just like me and you.”

“N-no,” he replied, looking surprisingly ill-at-ease. “She’s got a, well, uh…” He trailed off, and then went back to scowling. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. Andy shrugged, mouthing something that looked like “you’ll get used to it.” Next to her, Lane still looked pained but was otherwise blank.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucy Ann signed at her. “Do you want to leave?”

Lane shook her head. “Tell you later.”

“Hey!” Derek waved his hand in Lucy Ann’s peripheral vision. “What are you doing?”

Lucy Ann fixed him with the most condescending glare she could muster. “Lane can’t hear you -- she’s deaf, so I’m telling her in sign language how much of a loser you are.”

He grumbled, and Andy smirked. “He’s not a loser, he just acts like one sometimes.” This just made Derek grumble even louder.

Lucy Ann rubbed her forehead. “Cool. Great. Now that we all know each other, what do you want?”

Derek slapped his palms onto the table and leaned forward in what was obviously an attempt at intimidation. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”

Lucy Ann, meanwhile, had to stop herself from giggling. “Whoops, looks like I have to tell you the whole story now! Guess what: I’m not actually six, I’m old and I’m pretending to be a kid because there are some meaaaan people out there who don’t like preters. Isn’t that sad?”

“You don’t need to talk down to me!”

Lucy Ann smirked. “Why not? You’re just a little kid.”

Derek looked mad enough that steam could have been coming out of his ears. “No, I’m-”

Andy put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, making the other boy flinch. “Hey, uh, someone’s gonna overhear us if you keep screaming like that. This isn’t really the kind of conversation we want people to overhear.”

“Fine.” Derek took a comically deep breath, and then exhaled. “The point is, we’re not really first graders either. Well, I am. He’s not.”

Lucy Ann boggled. “Are you kidding? Is the whole school made up of preters pretending to be children?”

Andy chuckled -- a gruff, deep sound that definitely didn’t belong in a first grader’s mouth. “I think it’s just the three of us. And, uh. Her, I guess,” he added, pointing to Lane. “Is she…?”

“No, she’s human. Nothing weird about her at all.” Except that she’s the reincarnation of an extremely powerful demon’s twin sister.

Derek looked ready to cut in and yell at her, but he stopped himself, instead crossing his arms. Andy, for his part, just looked confused again. Lucy Ann stared at the two of them, so out of place against the backdrop of first graders running around the playground, throwing mud at each other and screaming about boo-boo’s. First Alcor, then Lane, now these two?

Hiding from the government was going to be a lot more interesting than planned.

She took a deep breath, and turned to Derek. "So. What's your deal, then?"

His face twitched, and he responded in a sickly-sweet voice. "What do you mean?"

Lucy Ann rolled her eyes. "Okay then. What about you?" She nodded in Andy's direction.

He stepped past Derek and took a seat next to Lucy Ann. “I’m old too. I’m 28.”

“That’s not old. That’s not even old for a human.”

“It’s old for a first grader. And I’m not human. Well, I’m not completely human. I’m half gnome.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Thanks, neither did anyone else.”

Lucy Ann coughed. “Sorry, that was rude.”

Andy waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” Lucy Ann frowned, but let him keep going. “Anyway, I’ve been physically growing up like a human, just at a much slower rate. If I’m lucky, I’ll look like a teenager by the time I’m 60.”

Lucy Ann patted his back. “At least you get to grow up eventually. I’m a lot older than 28 and I still look like this.”

Andy shrugged. There was a squeak, and Lucy Ann looked up to see Derek with tears in his eyes.

“That’s so sad!” he said, voice and body trembling. “You don’t get to grow up? I want to grow up so badly!”

Lucy Ann’s jaw dropped at the jarring change in his behavior. Maybe this kid really was a six year old after all. She beckoned for him to sit with them, and he obliged, resting his head on the table and flopping his arms around erratically.

“Hey, Derek, it’s alright,” she said slowly. “I’m fine. Andy’s fine too, right?” Andy nodded. “Lane is, well…”

She glanced at Lane, who was staring very intently at Derek. She seemed to notice Lucy Ann looking at her, as she absent-mindedly signed “I’m still okay” at her.

“Yeah, Lane’s good too. Everyone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek replied, sounding annoyed. He scowled and sat up straight, any trace of having been upset completely gone.

Lucy Ann did a double take. “Was that a joke? Were you joking just now? I need to know. What?”

“If we’re all done with feeling time over here,” he continued, as if she hadn’t said anything, “let’s real talk. The three-” (he nodded at Lane and shuddered slightly) “the four of us aren’t supposed to be here. We need to stick together. And you can’t tell anyone else about us. We might be safe for now in this middle-of-nowhere town but that could change at any time. You understand?”

“Hey, who’s talking down to who now?” she retorted. The corners of his mouth started to curl up into a smile. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. I’m literally a thousand times as old as you, I know how to keep a secret.”

Andy blanched. “Y-you’re HOW old?”

Derek ignored him, and stared into Lucy Ann’s eyes. There it was again -- that aged look that made her question how accurate her previous statement was. “Good.”

There was the sound of a bell ringing, and Mrs. Parsnip called out “Alright, kids! Recess is over, it’s time for class!”

Derek stood up, keeping eye contact with Lucy Ann. “We’ll see you tomorrow at lunch. Let’s go, Andy.” He turned away and started marching off.

Andy, still looking a little rattled, waved at her as he got up. “It was nice meeting you. I don’t know sign language, but tell Lane it was nice meeting her too, okay?”

Lucy Ann nodded, and she gave him a little wave back.

“Come on, Andy!” Derek’s voice came from the side of the building. Andy smiled and walked off after him.

“What just happened?” Lucy Ann signed at Lane.

“New friends,” Lane replied. Lucy Ann felt something flutter inside of her.

Friends, huh?

Maybe first grade wasn’t so boring after all.

---

The bus dropped them off at Alcor’s house. Lucy Ann could see him at the door, pressing his hands and face into the screen in anticipation of their return. She really hoped he hadn’t been standing there all day.

“Hi Lucy Ann,” he said when they got to the door.

Lucy Ann raised an eyebrow. “Hi Alcor.”

There was a long pause.

“Were you thinking of letting us in anytime soon?”

“Oh, of course, yeah!” He disentangled himself from the screen door (were those claw marks she could see left in the mesh?) and backed up a few steps. Lucy Ann and Lane went through the door, and Alcor immediately scooped the latter up into his arms.

“Lane!” he cried gleefully. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

Lucy Ann pretended to gag, but Alcor ignored her.

“That’s great! I’m so glad you’re okay -- not that I had any doubt about it!” he added, grinning at Lucy Ann. He put Lane down and headed into the kitchen. “I’ll get you two some snacks!”

“I can get my own snack,” Lucy Ann grumbled light-heartedly. She and Lane followed him into the next room and sat next to each other at the table.

Alcor paused, and threw Lucy Ann an embarrassed look. “Oh, wait, no, not because you look like a kid or anything! Sorry, I’m still kind of in ‘work mode’. No offense.” He started rifling through the cabinets.

“Does that mean you actually did it? You got a job?”

“Of course I did! Did you really think I’d have a problem playing human?” He turned around, mock betrayal on his face and a bowl of red liquorice in his hands. “I got a job as a waiter at the diner on Centre Avenue. They were short staffed and desperate for some additional hands.” He punctuated this with a cackle, and set the bowl on the table.

“Alright, I’ll just pretend that wasn’t ominous. At least you’ve got something to do during the day, now.”

His expression immediately fell, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Well, uh… I said I got a job. I didn’t say I kept it.” Lucy Ann just stared at him, and he seemed to get even more fidget-y. “Turns out they didn’t like it that I wanted to shake hands with everyone who ordered food, or that I’d threaten people who left bad tips with nightmares. Yeah, I got fired before noon.”

Lucy Ann burst out laughing. “Wow, seriously? You’re worse at people-ing than I remembered! Looks like old habits die hard!”

Out of nowhere, a thought struck her like a slap to the face, reminding her that Lane was still in the room and had no idea what the two of them were talking about. She turned around and saw Lane just staring at the bowl of candy Alcor had set on the table. Lucy Ann gave her a little wave, and she looked up, expressionless but clearly bored.

“Do you want that candy?” Lucy Ann signed.

“No, I want carrots,” Lane replied.

Alcor, as usual, did not seem to notice any of this. “Yeah, yeah, get it all out of your system now. I’ll get another job tomorrow, which I’ll definitely be awesome at, and then who’ll be laughing?”

“Still me,” Lucy Ann replied. “Hey, why do you keep giving Lane candy? She clearly doesn’t want it. She says she’d rather have carrots.”

Alcor stuck his tongue out, and swiped the candy off the table. “Alright, fine, Miss. Parent-of-the-Year.” He rifled around in the fridge and pulled out a bowl of carrots. “Speaking of which, it’s your turn to tell me about your day. How was school? Was there any trouble? Do I need to go down there and take care of anyone?”

“No, you paranoid dork, everything was fine! It was just school, don’t you remember what school was like? There was class, and then there was lunch, and then there was class again, and it was all extremely boring, and I was right there with Lane the whole time.” Except for the ASL class.

Alcor put the bowl of carrots in front of Lane, who hugged his arm in response. He smiled fondly at her, and didn’t look up when he responded to Lucy Ann. “That’s it? Nothing interesting happened at all?”

Lucy Ann thought about the two “kids” they’d met that day, and what Derek had said before leaving. He didn’t need to know about them just yet -- they weren’t a danger to Lane and she had promised not to tell anyone about them. “Nope,” she lied, lips pursed. “Not a single thing.”

Alcor looked up from Lane and smiled the same sweet, genuine smile at Lucy Ann. “That’s good. Thanks for keeping her safe.”

Lucy Ann folded her arms behind her head and leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, well, I told you I could handle it,” she gloated, a big confident grin on her face. “First grade is boring.”

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #lucy ann #alcor the dreambender #lane douglas #fic #dipper pines #andy berryfizzle #derek nowaczyk #yo formatting this for tumblr was Annoying #because tumblr hates underlines for some reason #i might not do this for future chapters idk #long post #my stuff #marciblane arc

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frejahertziswritingthistime · 7 years

Text

Bruises

A/N: This was a request from the amazingly awesome @molly-lolli, who asked for a smutty and emotional Sam x Reader.

So here it is, hope you like it! Thank you so much for your request, lovely. I’ve written it from the readers POV, so everything is written in I/me-form.

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

MOBILE MASTERLIST

DESKTOP MASTERLIST

Pairings: Sam x reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it at home, guys!), slow sex, emotional sex

I stared at my wrist-watch; they should have been back now.

Sam and Dean had gone to hunt a Djinn, and they told me, it would be a standard run – three days max.

It had been almost a week now, and my nerves were on edge; normally, they would call, if things had gone south or they had a hard time locating the particular monster, they were hunting. It had been absolute radio-silence for three days ago, and I was in half a mind to go find them myself, check if they were okay.

Sam had been the last point of contact – he texted me three days ago with a simple “I miss you”, and I hadn’t heard anything from him or Dean since. It worried me.

I paced in Sam’s room, where I had moved in – when I joined the guys three years ago, as their researcher/helping-hunter (or, as Dean called me: The female, prettier and younger Bobby), it hadn’t been a month, before I had fallen head over heels with Sam. He was adorable, which was one thing, but he was also such a strong, protective soul, and he had spent many hours making sure I was okay. He told me once that he knew he loved me, the second I stepped inside the Library in the bunker and had gasped happily at the sight of all the old books, and I had instantly ripped a very old, yellowing book from the shelf and buried my head in it.

I knew I loved him, one night, where he had come into my room, throwing his long, burly body on my bed and sighed contently before patting the space beside him. I had laid down next to him, and he had wrapped his arms around me, already half-asleep, engulfing me completely in his warmth, and mumbled “This is home” into my hair.

A month after that, he had told me, that he didn’t want to dance around it anymore. He wanted me, and I wanted him, and that was that.

So, I had moved into his room a few weeks after, not really ready to waste any more time – Dean had grinned and smacked his brother on the shoulder in respect, and then our home life was made.

When they weren’t hunting, I woke up an hour before Sam, made breakfast for the boys (pancakes and bacon for Dean, egg-white-scrambled eggs and yogurt for Sam) and made coffee for myself. They boys woke up about thirty minutes after I started making breakfast, we ate together, then Dean and Sam took turns to clean the dishes before Sam went on his morning run, and Dean went to the shooting-range.

I took a shower (often joined by Sam, and we always ended up using all the hot water, much to Dean’s annoyance), and then the day went by with reading, watching TV, laughing and just enjoying ourselves.

I looked back at my watch. It shouldn’t have been this long. My heart was in my throat as I went over the scenarios that could have held them back; each one worse than the other.

A clanging sound threw me out of my thoughts, and my head snapped towards the door. The door to our room opened, and Sam came charging in – blood, bruises and cuts everywhere, and he went straight towards me, pulling in to him, and he hugged me, sighing deeply. He was shaking.

“Babe, what happened? Are you okay?” I asked, worry coloring my words. He shook his head.

“Sam, what…” My words were cut off with a “Oomph” as he tightened his grip on my, burying his head in my neck.

“Babe, I can’t breathe.” I chuckled and pulled away to look at him. His face was covered in cuts, bruises were forming and his eyes swimming in tears. I cupped his face in my hands, wiping a little blood off as my fingers ghosted over his cheeks.

“Don’t worry about me, babe.” He sighed. I raised my eyebrows. Like hell, I wouldn’t worry about him. He seemed to hear my thoughts, and he sighed.

“It wasn’t a normal Djinn. It was… Like a nightmare-inducing Djinn. He fed on fear, Y/N. And…” He drew a deep breath, tears overflowing in his eyes. “And you were… I couldn’t...” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. I understood all too well; I had those dreams too. Him, laying still, his body cold, because I couldn’t save him.

“Sam…” I quavered as I pulled him to the bed. We laid down, just listening to each other’s heartbeats, him still holding me, and my hands running slowly and gently through his hair.

“It’s hard, Y/n. So hard… To be away from you. I… I worry about you. I can’t stand it.” He mumbled into my chest. I smiled.

“I know, baby. Trust me, I know.” I sympathized. We stayed like that for a while, until I felt his lips kissing me slowly, moving from the side of my chest to my neck, before his hazel eyes met mine, glinting with longing and lust. I smiled, and he kissed me softly as his hands unraveled from my body, before they started gliding lovingly over my ribs, pulling my shirt up.

“Y/N…” He whispered against my lips, and I lifted my arms, so he could slide the shirt off. He stopped his ministrations for a brief second, as he pulled his own shirt off and quickly undid his pants; I followed his lead, looking into his eyes, as I slid my leggings and panties off, my body humming slightly for him. He smiled as his eyes roamed my body.

I couldn’t help but marvel at his body, even after all these years. He was beautiful as he stood naked in front of me. His huge body was toned with muscles that rippled as he moved slowly towards me, and his cock was already hard and waiting for me. He gently slid his body over mine, hovering above me and his eyes found mine.

“I don’t ever want to lose you, Y/n.” I smiled and leaned up to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss, his lips molding themselves around mine, and his tongue swiped across my bottom lip, begging for entrance.

I let my tongue slide against his, and my hands went in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He shifted his body-weight to his left arm, as he slid his right hand down my body, trailing goosebumps in his wake; I moaned and spread my legs as I felt his hand ghost over my mound, and heat pooled between my legs. He smirked into the kiss, and let a finger slide in between my slick folds, pressing gently on my clit – I gasped in to his lips and my body arched up against his. He drew circles with his fingers against my clit, the coil in my abdomen tightening as my orgasm neared. I moaned against his lips, and he sped up, his finger moving faster and faster.

“Sam..” I moaned against his lips.

“Let go, baby…” He whispered, and my body exploded. Bliss filled me, I saw stars behind my closed eyelids, and my body was pulled taught, flush against his as I rode out my orgasm.

He kissed me gently, a silent question lingering on his lips, and I spread my legs wider. I craved him inside of me, the feel of his big cock sliding in and out of me, and I needed it now. He smiled again, and positioned himself at my entrance, the tip of his cock brushing gently against my sensitive clit. I moaned, and my hips bucked up in pure desperation. He groaned at the feel of my slick folds against him, and he pushed slowly into me, letting me adjust to his size, and then he stilled.

“I love you, Y/N.” He murmured as he looked me in the eyes.

“As I love you, Sam.” I whispered back. He grinned, his eyes lit up like they always did, when he heard those words, and he groaned as he started sliding in and out of me. I could feel every twitch, every vein, and I was close to the edge already, the tip0 of his cock touching my g-spot with every thrust. Sam moaned and bent his head down to take my hard nipple in his mouth, his teeth grazing lightly across the hardened bud, as he thrusted harder into me.

“Fuck, Sam… Please…” I moaned for him, longed for my release, and he sped up, assaulting my senses. I screamed his name as I felt myself fall over the edge, my orgasm taking over my body, and I whimpered his name over and over. I heard him grunt, and I knew he was holding back. His thrusts became erratic, frantic, as he chased his own orgasm – I felt another one, building up fast, the spark growing hotter and hotter inside of me, and he hissed my name with a hard pump. I felt him let go, his seed filling my completely, and the feeling of his release sent me over the edge again – a small, wonderfully timid orgasm overtook me as I moaned his named over and over again.

We lay there, his body shivering slightly, sweat covering both of our bodies, for a long time.

He found my eyes and smiled.

“I couldn’t live without you, Y/N.” He murmured, a hand cupping the side of my face and his fingers moved sweat-soaked strands of hair away from my cheek.

“I couldn’t live without you, Sam.” I whispered back, stretching my neck up for a searing kiss.

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen

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aviyinglet · 6 years

Text

E3 2018

Here’s a lengthy series of crossposts from scalie.club on the respective press events of this year’s E3. In retrospect, I’m a bit more negative in here than I’d like to be (I complain about games like Anthem and FO76 I never particularly intended to buy in the first place, and I’m a little bit negative about Prey, which I think I’ve established I like), but regardless, here it is in case you’re interested:

Electronic Arts

- I saw a take on the reaction to Anthem's multiplayer focus and lack of romance: "Oh, so you want Bioware to just repeatedly make the same game with slight reskins over and over?"

No, I only -trust- them to make story-based RPGs with strong characters/lots of dialogue. That's where their cachet comes from! I'm sure they make good multiplayer for people who want it, but God, @Iron_Spike on Twitter had it right: just let me enjoy highly masturbatory single-player content in peace.

Microsoft

- The XbOne port of NieR: Automata is a criminally late and truly pathetic attempt to court me back, as I am both a forthcoming capable-PC-owner -and- the only person who exists

- My eyes glazed over at the Xbox conference whenever they excitedly showed off anything involving multiplayer or shooting, but still, a pretty good slate of trailers all around. Standouts: Sekiro, Forza Horizon 4, Tales of Vesperia, Session, Tunic, Just Cause 4, and -possibly- Dying Light 2 and Cyberpunk 2077, depending on how cynical their stories end up being.

I was honestly expecting something relating to VR; I suppose they're saving that for the next iteration of Xbox hardware, if at all.

- Oh, also, I might be somewhat into humanoid videogame amphibian guys, but the Battletoads always have been and always will be exempt from this, and so my interest in their new game is absolutely nil [don’t-@-me emoji]

Bethesda

- Never a good sign if your hot new game concept has to be defended before you describe any of its genre-redeeming features.

"You'll never have to see a server browser!" "Don't worry, you CAN solo if you want!"

Right, but what options do I have if I want to have a peaceful co-op or PvE experience? Does 'solo' mean 'completely on a private instance', or just 'in a free-for-all game world without co-op partners'?

[EDIT: There are no offline or private-instance modes in Fallout 76.]

- "You can team up with other players to launch a nuclear weapon and completely wreck another player's settlement!"

Congrats, this sounds completely horrible in every single way. If there's no way to completely isolate myself from the possibility of it happening to me, then it doesn't matter how hopeful the story/setting are supposed to be; this is a game I will never ever buy.

"You don't lose anything when you die!"

Then what's the point of including nukes to begin with?

[EDIT: There are other non-murder-related reasons for firing off nukes. Still seems counterproductive, considering there are no such reasons in real life.]

- The Prey stuff looks good, but I was seriously going to engage with the moon DLC primarily as a peaceful space to stack objects in. It being a roguelite with a corruption meter that increases over time has completely destroyed that ambition -- not that the game was designed for it in the first place, but still.

The base game does have NG+ now, though, which is good to know for when I get it on PC. I'm hoping I can just restart with Leverage and Mobility III for efficiency's sake.

Square-Enix

- Just Cause 4 still looks hot, though whether it'll be playable at all on consoles has yet to be seen. One of the reasons I'm building the PC to begin with is to play through JC3; when I abandoned it on XbOne I was attempting to complete it using the grappling hook as my primary weapon for everything -- turning it from a standard shooter into a destructive puzzle game. (I only stopped because the framerates were far too low, which a XbOnX hardware upgrade wouldn't appreciably fix.)

[Addendum: I agree wholeheartedly with the backlash to the backlash against Kingdom Hearts. Sure, it’s silly and the greater lore is impenetrable from the outside, but you could say the same about, say, the Resident Evil series.]

Ubisoft

- I was waiting for them to put guns, explosions*, or forced randomness into the new Trials, and I'm beyond pleased that they didn't. The Crew 2 is a day-one for me (but that was a foregone conclusion; Phen's getting it, and the closed beta was amazing). Starlink, congrats on the thirst-follows, but feel free to call me when the -actual- man of my dreams is playable.

[*referring to explosions from grenade launchers or other acts of person-to-person violence, not environmental explosions from, say, colliding with red barrels. Important distinction to be made here.]

Sony

- One of the most brutally unpleasant press conferences I've ever watched, just from the overabundance of deeply intense and deliberately upsetting visuals; my recollection of it feels like an actual nightmare. That said, Death Stranding looks nice; so does the RE2 remake (though not for the over-the-top gore in what they displayed). I'm sure Spider-Man will be great as well, though as with other PS4 exclusives, I'll be viewing them in hour-long chunklets as my housemate plays through.

- [CW: upsetting feverdream:] I open my eyes to a field of wind-rippling flowers; a ponderous instrumental plays. There's a gun in my hand. I examine it; every detail is intricate, I inspect the chamber, check the magazine, only a few bullets left. The mechanical sounds pierce my eardrums. The sky is a magenta gradient from a bright white sun to the black vignettes at the edges of my vision. Off in the distance, there's a man with a katana, and reluctantly, I realize it's him or me.

Nintendo

- Really shouldn't have watched the Giant Bomb stream of this one. The problem, as I see it -- they showed plenty of games, but in criminally small portions, and just to make time for Smash tweaks. Still, a "one more thing" might have saved it, especially considering the things that had been rumored.

It still would have been nice to see some new system features; Twitch and Youtube clients, integration with more social networks. eShop music, perhaps?

#crosspost #text

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