#ao3 inbound

[trashwithvariety]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard: 1940s Minrathous Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin & Francesca Ingellvar Rated: M Summary: Emmrich and Francesca's reunion is fraught with simmering regret and undisclosed desires. Words: 6624

praeterita

He remembered waking to the sight of her dark raven hair spilled across the silk pillow beside his, strands catching the dim candlelight like threads of ink. The warmth of her body lingered in the air between them, carrying the familiar scent of bergamot and vetiver—unmistakably her. He breathed her in, savoring it as if it were the first time, as if by some magic he could keep her there forever.

His fingers traced a slow, reverent path from the curve of her neck to the dip of her hip, stirring a ripple of goosebumps along her skin. She shifted in response, sighing softly as she blinked awake, amethyst eyes glinting in the low light. A sleepy, knowing smile curved her lips as her delicate hand slid up his chest, curling around his neck to pull him closer. He let himself be drawn in, drinking in the warmth, the quiet intimacy of the moment.

There had been many mornings like this. But this one… this one was the last.

Maybe it hadn’t been as perfect as he remembered. Maybe time had softened its edges, polished over the imperfections, turned heartache into nostalgia. But in his mind, it remained untouched—the morning before everything changed.

The day had begun as they all did. Her coffee, his tea. A light breakfast before parting ways—him to his lectures, her to her shift with the Mourn Watch. She had already graduated, was already carving her own path toward teaching, balancing studies with duty. Their love was no longer hidden, no longer a whispered thing confined to stolen moments. They belonged to each other openly, effortlessly.

continue on ao3!

[velaenam]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠..𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 (sneak peak)

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. caleb crashed into lake michigan! in chicago! in front of you! how are you supposed to handle an intergalactic space colonel with abs, manners, and absolutely no clue what walmart is? 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  reverse isekai (caleb comes to earth),romance,fluff,comedy, angst, nsfw topics/language, tba 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – kinda proofread. i hope ur well, i hope you take this SNEAK PEAK as a token... plz leave me dms and comments and lmk if this is something you're interested in! i will be uploading this in my ao3. — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. lmk if u want to be tagged.

the humming of the farspace fleets deep tunnel grew louder inside his helmet. it was a low, almost soothing vibration that caleb had grown far too familiar with. another day, another shoddy mission. 

“tunnel stability at 98 percent” his earpiece whispers a calm and steady hum in his ear. 

calebs gloved fingers hovered above the holographic controls, eyes narrowed, every movement precise. the swirling lights of the tunnel outside the viewport pulsed in soft gradients of blue and violet like a spiraling galaxy. 

red.

a sudden spike flash across the console.

“warning: tunnel destabilization detected. energy surge inbound.”

calebs brow’s furrow, darting around commands into the console ai. as he does the tunnel outside began to shudder, colors fracturing into unnatural streaks. 

white lights crept into the edges of his visions like porcelain cracks. caleb’s breathing slowed, focused, “initiate emergency shu-”

a deafening pulse of energy surged through the cockpit, shaking the entire vessel. the white light consumed him. his system cracking into static. 

his lips find their way to his apple necklace.

silence.

it was supposed to be a normal afternoon. 

you’d brought your favorite lemonade, found your usual quiet spot by the lake, and pulled out your phone, ready to scroll through tiktok until your brain officially clocked out. the sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, this was nice. this was good. 

peaceful. chill.

honestly? you were thriving.

that is.. till something weird happened.

at first, it was just a strange hum. low but barely noticeable. you glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice. not that there were many people around. you were in a more secluded area of the lake.

the water in front of you rippled. your eyes snap towards the water observing it, already standing up to run.

and then- he appeared.

he just… emerged. like ariel on that rock. or whatever. oh, oh, like moto moto!

one second: empty lake. The next: a sexy man standing waist deep in the water as if reality had just uploaded him directly into lake michigan. 

you froze, blinking, your brain fully short circuiting.

the man was tall. broad. dressed in a military uniform that looked a bit too good on him, his eyes purple like amethyst.. soaked brown hair. his breathing was steady and controlled. he slowly lifted his head, scanning the area like a soldier assessing in a battlefield. and then his eyes landed on you.

you held your lemonade like it was a crucifix. the man tilted his head slightly, as if confused and curious. 

you did the only logical thing any person would do when confronted by a strange man materializing out of thin fucking air in broad daylight.

you whispered, “what the fuck?!”

(commercial break)

he took a slow step toward the shore, water streaming down the armored plates of his suit. you couldn’t move. your feet felt like they fused with the ground. 

you blink. this was not normal. this was odd and weird. you had eyeshot of the lake in front of you and you didn’t see a man walk within your peripherals in the past 15 minutes.

as you think, you fail to notice that he stood a few feet from you. his eyes scanned everything. the skyline. the parked cars. passing birds, you. his gaze was sharp and analytical, but you couldn’t help but catch the flicker of unease. 

for a moment neither of you spoke. then his voice, calm and low, “this isn’t… skyhaven..” 

you stared, “.... i don’t know what that is…” 

he inhaled a deep sigh, his jaw clenching slightly. his  eyes darted up to the sky, scanning. then around again. His hand reached up, unfastening something at his neck. he pulls off the jacket bearing unfamiliar insignia.  

he followed by tugging off his cap, running a hand through his damp hair. without the uniform he almost looked like any other ridiculously good looking chicago tourist who happened to have just crawled out of the lake in his dress blues?

 almost.

his eyes settled back on you. “you’re local,” he stated. not a question.

“y-yeah,” you said, still clutching your drink like a nervous squirrel, “uh. chicago.”

another pause. you watched as he took a small, subtle breath, adjusting his posture, as though trying to blend in. his military ‘tude slipped into something softer, calculated, but oddly polite.

“i need to speak with you. somewhere less exposed.”

you hesitated, your brain running full speed through every true crime documentary you’d ever watched. but there was something about him that didn’t scream danger. he seemed… lost. out of place.

and possibly extremely confused.

…..BUT MAYBE THIS IS WHAT HE WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK

"...you don’t have any weapons on you, do you?"

his brow twitched slightly, almost like a tiny flash of amusement. “no. not at the moment.”

"...okay." against every ounce of common sense, you sighed. “come on. my car’s over there.” oh, what would your parents think?

he followed without hesitation, keeping pace exactly one step behind you. polite, controlled, but clearly still assessing everything like this entire planet was a potential threat.

you unlocked your car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and tried very hard not to hyperventilate as he sat himself into the passenger side, closing the door.

a beat of silence filled the cabin.

you finally turned to him and blurted out, ��okay. who — or what — are you?”

the silence hung for a long, awkward beat.

you stared at him, your brain still trying to process any of this, as your fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles went pale. he sat there like this was a perfectly normal tuesday.

finally, he spoke.

“my name is caleb xia. colonel. farspace fleet .this is not my world.”

you blinked.your mouth opened slightly, but all that came out was a soft, strangled noise. “...what.”

“i was traveling through a deep tunnel corridor,” he continued, his voice low, calm, like he was giving a report. “there was a malfunction. anomalous coordinates. i lost control of the vessel’s trajectory and…” his eyes scanned the unfamiliar cityscape out your windshield again. “i arrived here.”

you stared at him.

and then you laughed..

“i’m sorry — what?” you sputtered. “you expect me to believe you're from... space? Like, intergalactic, star wars? not, like, russia or something?”

his brow twitched ever so slightly at your comparison. “star wars..? no. no.”

“oh my god, you’re serious.” you clapped a hand over your mouth. “okay. so you’re from skyhaven? which isn’t on google maps, by the way. a colonel?”

“correct.”

you gave him your absolute most deadpan, wide-eyed stare. “are you having a psychotic break?”

if caleb was offended, he didn’t show it. In fact, you thought you saw something flicker across his expression — patience. like he’d expected this. like he’d already calculated your reaction before you even had it.

without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

you immediately stiffened. “hey, whoa—”

“i’m not armed,” he assured smoothly, pulling out a small, sleek object — no bigger than a deck of cards. the surface shimmered with a faint blue light, metallic but almost liquid in how it reflected. there were no buttons. no seams. the edges curved unnaturally smooth. it definitely didn’t look like anything sold at best buy.

he tapped it once, and the surface came alive . a floating projection emerged, rotating gently in midair like a miniature hologram. complex glyphs and symbols you couldn’t even begin to read spun around a glowing image of what looked like... a planet? a star system?

“this is a navigational core module,” he said quietly. “it tracks dimensional coordinates for deep tunnel travel.” his eyes lifted to meet yours. soft but firm. “your world isn’t on any of our charts.”

your jaw dropped open.

you looked at the hologram. then at him. then back at the floating image, which was still calmly rotating in front of your very real, very human face.

your brain screamed: THAT’S NOT AN IPAD.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

you kept staring at the floating projection like your brain was buffering. if this was a prank, it was a really good one. but nothing about him screamed prank. everything screamed calm, extremely dangerous man who accidentally landed in chicago from a freaking alternate universe, and #needthat.

your voice came out small. “...is that real?”

caleb calmly deactivated the device with a brush of his fingertips — it folded back into itself like liquid metal and slipped neatly into his jacket again.

“i anticipated you’d require additional verification.”

he pulled something else out of his suit. a sleek, block. his phone.

he tapped the screen. the interface lit up in a design you couldn’t even recognize — elegant, minimalistic, even though it was a normal looking phone.

he handed it to you.

you hesitated but took it carefully, half expecting it to electrocute you. the screen pulsed slightly as if reading your touch, but otherwise, it let you scroll. there were apps you didn’t recognize.  

no google. no instagram. no facebook. no tiktok.

your eyebrows furrowed as you flicked through what appeared to be his photo library.

and that’s when you saw it.

a picture of him standing beside a girl — smiling, standing on what looked like a floating platform overlooking a glowing futuristic skyline. the city was breathtaking: glittering towers spiraled into the clouds, neon highways coiled between buildings, flying vehicles zipping silently through the air.

you blinked at the girl beside him. she was pretty, soft-featured, and looked very familiar.

“...is this your girlfriend?” you asked, feeling a weird stab in your chest for absolutely no reason.

caleb glanced at the photo. his expression softened for the first time. “its… complicated.” “oh.” You blinked again, glancing down at the skyline. “is this skyhaven?”

he nodded.  your jaw dropped as you scrolled through more photos — linkon’s towering buildings, vast technological hubs, alien landscapes, even images of creatures you didn’t recognize , all shimmering under unfamiliar constellations.

“this looks like a star wars movie,” you whispered. “only it’s… real.”

star …wars? “it is,” caleb said softly, watching you with quiet amusement as your eyes grew wide with every swipe. “everything you know here would be considered… primitive. in comparison.”

you gave him a scandalized look. “wow. thanks. way to make a girl feel special.”

for the briefest second, you thought you saw something that almost resembled a small smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

.

you sat there for a few seconds, staring at his face — at the phone still in your hands, at his perfectly calm expression, at the absurdity of what your life had just become in the span of fifteen minutes.

“okay….” you finally breathed. “you… you’re real. you’re actually real.”

“i told you i was.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

you stared at him again. “you literally just glitched into my lake.” he blinked. “yes.”

you groaned softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “okay. you can’t just… sit in my car forever. we can’t sit here. i guess….you can come back to my place while we figure this out.”

he didn’t even hesitate. “hmm.. acceptable.”

you started the car and pulled onto the road, mentally drafting a list of increasingly bad decisions you were making today. bringing a strange man to your apartment? who may or may not be from another dimension? yeah. real smart. 

it wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot and glanced at him again that your brain hit another very important wall.

oh no.

you had no men's clothing.

you stared at his still-damp suit. he looked like a psyop..!! there was no way you could let him just walk around like that. it screamed cia experiment or cosplay gone way too far.

“okay so…” you said, teeth gritted. “tinyyy problem. you can’t wear that.”

caleb looked down at himself, mildly analyzing the gear. “why not?”

“you’re gonna draw attention. and by attention,i mean you’ll be trending on twitter within thirty minutes. we need to get you into something… normal.”

he nodded, calmly accepting the foreign terms. “then where do we acquire appropriate attire?”

you sighed. “walmart.”his brow quirked slightly. “....is that a supplier?” …..well… “sure.” you waved your hand mumbling under your breath, “let’s go with that….”

.

[kaoinim]

ao3 is down so I guess wait does anyone else hear that siren-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHITE WOMEN INBOUND

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WAVE 1/30

OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE

[powerful-niya]

— (írrєsístíвlє.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎, 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕.

Link to One-shot Below ↴ Wattpad | AO3

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina 

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡Naruto wasn't much of a fragrance guy. He didn't care about designer colognes or fancy scents—as long as he didn't smell like a woman, he was good to go.

But when Shikamaru mentions a cologne that can make women—particularly his wife, Hinata—obsessed with him after just one whiff, it catches his attention. Curious about the possibility, Naruto starts to rethink his stance on cologne, particularly on the recommendation, wondering if it could take his marriage to a whole new level.

Content Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Alcoholic Drinks • Body Worship • Bold!Hinata • Boob Job • Casual Intimacy • Cock Worship • Cologne • Cologne Arousal •  Cum-Marking • Cumplay • Deep Throating • Dirty Talk • Domestic Fluff • Domesticity • Fantasies & Fantasizing • Fellatio • Fluff • Food Play • Free Use • Frottage • Hand Job • Handsy Behavior • Heat Kink • HEAVY Scent Kink • Husband/Wife • Innocent Teasing • Loss of Control • Love Affirmations • Marriage • Masculinity • Men Being Men • Modern AU • Multiple Orgasms • Mutual Arousal • Obsession • Oral Fixation • Oral Sex • Overstimulation • Praise Kink • Power Play • Sensory Intimacy • Sensory Overload • Sex Pollen • Simple Pleasures • Size Difference Kink • Slice of Life • Slow Burn • Soft Dom/Sub Undertones • Strip Tease • Teasing • Titty Fuck • 2025

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚20K

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚6.7K

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"Total bullshit," Kiba grumbled, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth, "His foot was clearly inbounds."

Here we go again.

Naruto kicked back in his seat, an ever-present grin stretched across his whiskered face. A half-full glass of cold beer dangled loosely between his fingers, his grip lazy, thanks to the pleasant buzz already coursing through his veins. 

He wasn't completely blacked out, but he was just about there. The warmth in his chest, the lightness in his limbs—yeah, he was good and tipsy.

He was definitely feeling it now. 

His hooded blue eyes flicked between the football game on the mounted screen and the usual rowdy banter among his friends.

Another game night.

And that could only mean one thing, and one thing only.

Chaos.

Complete and utter chaos. 

All around him, glasses clinked and clanked in the bar, the sounds mingling with the cheers and groans of the crowd, everyone's eyes glued to the flashing TVs. The sports commentators kept up their endless chatter, their voices droning on and on over the speakers, breaking down every play, every move, dissecting every little detail they could.

Their thoughts echoing through the already hella noisy room.

But Naruto didn't mind—not one bit. 

Lee shook his head dramatically, setting his drink down with a force that made the ice clink, "Come on, Kiba. The referee's judgment must be respected! A true athlete—"

"—gets screwed over by a blind ref," Sasuke cut in smoothly, swirling his iced whiskey with a lazy shake of his hand, his gaze still glued to the screen.

"Typical."

Sai, ever unfazed, took a slow sip of his gin and tonic, his expression unchanged, "It's amusing how emotionally invested you all get into this."

"Man, I'm just here for the beer." Shikamaru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Naruto snickered.

Ahh, yeah.

The Kuroyama Bar—his regular stomping ground, his go-to joint…

His home away from home.

Like every weekend, after planting a quick goodbye kiss on his sweet wifey back home, Naruto followed through with his usual routine—swinging by the bar to catch up with the fellas.

Same old, same old.

Nothing really new. 

After all, they had been hitting bars together since high school, and at Kuroyama, they might as well have been part of the damn furniture. For years, they hadn't just frequented the place—they'd practically haunted it, a long train of bodies at the bar, always taking up the seats, always holding court like they owned the joint.

They were the kind of crew the staff both loved and dreaded. 

The kind of guys who knew every bartender by name, who had their usual orders ready before they even sat down. The ones who could turn just a quiet little night at the bar into absolute chaos.

Yeah, they'd racked up their fair share of eye-rolls, caught a few stern looks, maybe even a couple of warnings from the customers, but hell—when you're drunk, having a good damn time, you don't tend to give a shit.

The men had a reputation, not always a good one, for being the drunk dumbasses who could make any night unforgettable, for better or for worse.

And in recent times, nothing's really changed.

They were still the same rowdy crew—the kind of guys who could always be counted on to fill a room with laughter, toeing that fine line between charming regulars and absolute menaces.

And honestly?

Naruto wouldn't have it any other way.

The Kuroyama Bar in the heart of sweet ole Tokyo was just that place, the spot where he and the guys could unwind after a long week. A place where the burdens of life—jobs, relationships, marriages, responsibilities, and all the bullshit that came with being an adult—could be forgotten, even if only for a couple of hours.

Naruto wasn't gonna lie.

He always feels it the second he walks through the door—the weight of his troubles instantly lifts, the way his shoulders drop, and his thoughts just…clear.  

Like clockwork, he would call out to the bartender up front, order a beer or two, before settling into his usual spot with his fellow comrades. 

Here, he could just be another guy—not the provider, not the problem-solver, not the breadwinner. Not the husband, not the employee, not the man with a million expectations hanging over his head.

No, no, no. 

This was his reset button, the place where he could let loose, where the world outside felt a little less heavy, and where the only thing that mattered was the next round of drinks and the game on the screen.

Here, he was in his element. 

And he was enjoying every second of it. 

Naruto shifted toward Shikamaru, giving his shoulder a quick brush, "Speaking of beer," He smirked, tilting his own glass toward the stack of empty ones crowding around the ponytail-haired man's side of the bar table.

"What's up with you? You've been throwing those shits back like nobody's business." The blonde pouted mockingly, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? Temari-san's making you sleep on the couch again?"

Shikamaru huffed, shaking his head, "Not even close. If anything, she's been all over me lately."

Naruto raised a brow, "Huh?"

"Yeah, doubt it." Kiba snorted, eyes still glued to the TV as he stuffed more fries into his face. 

Shikamaru leaned over and shot a bored look down at him before crossing his arms over his chest, "Don't be a drag, moron."

Kiba just shrugged, unbothered, "Hey, I'm just sayin' what everyone's thinking—sounds too good to be true, that's all."

Shikamaru let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I swear… all I did was change one thing—my damn cologne—and suddenly, Temari’s acting like a whole new woman."

Now that got everyone's attention.

All the men at the bar snapped to life, heads turning in unison as their eyes ripped away from the TVs—now locked entirely on Shikamaru.

Naruto nearly choked on his drink, "Wait, did you just say cologne?"

"Hm, I'm not buying it," Neji groaned, crossing his arms over the table. 

"I agree, sounds sketchy as hell," Sasuke shook his head, clearly skeptical.

"Just let him explain, guys," Lee spoke up, ever the diplomat, always the one trying to keep the peace.

Shikamaru took a casual sip of his beer, letting the silence hang for a moment as the rowdy crew shifted in their seats—rocking, fidgeting, practically burning holes through his skull, just waiting for him to speak.

The wait?

Oh, that was completely intentional.

A petty little move on Shikamaru's part—but he didn't give two fucks. They'd clowned him earlier, cracked their jokes, brushed off his words. He wanted their undivided attention from the start, and now that he had it? 

He was gonna make 'em wait.

Make 'em squirm a little.

So, only once he'd had his fill of dragging it out, he set his beer down with a satisfying thud, the thick glass landing solid against the bar.

"Alright," Shikamaru began, his tone as nonchalant as ever, "So a few weeks back, I grabbed this cologne from a shop in Kyoto—real lowkey place, kinda tucked away, but definitely high-end." He said it like it was no big deal, just another day, just another purchase.

Like it wasn't the catalyst for his entire love life doing a 180.

"It's called 'Imperium Noir.'"

And just like that—the colgune's name was revealed. 

Shikamaru shrugged lazily, "Saw an ad for it. Turns out, it's pretty popular with men here in Japan. Supposedly, it works like some kind of 'sex pollen' for women—whatever the hell that means."

A few of the guys exchanged glances, some interested, others skeptical.

"Figured I'd give it a shot, but…if I had to be honest?" Shikamaru continued, clicking his tongue, "Didn't think it'll actually work…but," He paused, letting the words hang for effect before finally speaking again. 

"Let's just say Temari proved me wrong."

Kiba raised a brow, his expression flat, clearly unimpressed, "Sounds like some boujee-ass shit."

Shikamaru hummed, "Maybe, but I swear on my life, I tried a few spritz of that stuff, and now I've got Temari damn near hooked. She keeps sniffing my neck every chance she gets, asking me all these questions about my day, why I smell so good—then she's grabbing my dick up whenever she gets close—" He took another sip of his beer, looking completely troubled now, "—damn near wouldn't let me leave the house today."

Naruto's eyebrows shot up, "For real?" He gave his head a small shake, trying to piece it together with what little brainpower his buzzed brain had left, "A cologne that works like a damn aphrodisiac?" He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Man, the world's getting wild."

Shikamaru shook his head, tapping the table, "For real, man. I mean, it's like I'm living with someone else. Temari's way more into me now, like she can't get enough."

Sasuke smirked, "Tsk, and you're complaining?"

"I'm just saying," The ponytail haired-man muttered, raising his hands in defense, "if you ever want your girl obsessed with you, Imperium Noir is the way to go."

Naruto's smirk faltered, his thigh hopping underneath the table. The gears in his head was already turning. 

He couldn't help it. 

He'd never heard of anything like that before. A cologne with that kind of power.

Sex…pollen?

Naruto's face scrunched up. 

Is that even legal? 

That sounded dangerous.

And…kinda tempting.

He snorted. 

….nah.

He deserted his beer to lean back in his seat, throwing his arms casually behind his head,  "Man, I don't need no cologne to impress Hinata-chan. I get pussy just fine." A grin stretched across his whiskered face, and with a lazy tilt of his head, he shot a pointed glance at Sasuke.

"Can't say the same for some people."

Kiba burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink, catching onto exactly what Naruto was throwing.

And so did Sasuke.

The dark-haired Uchiha didn't so much as flinch, leveling Naruto with a flat, unimpressed stare.

"You really wanna start that conversation?"

"Ahhh shit, here we go." Kiba barked out a laugh. 

"Nah, nah," Naruto chuckled, waving him off. "Just checkin' in, man. Heard things aren't exactly smooth between you and Sakura-chan—especially after that big argument you two had."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed, but he didn't take the bait.

Instead, he took a slow sip of his drink, keeping his voice even, controlled.

"Tch. You have a funny way of 'checking in.'" He huffed, setting his glass down with a dull clink, "Besides, I'm fine. It's really none of your damn business anyway, dobe."

Naruto grinned, leaning over and nudging Kiba's shoulder.

"Tough guy doesn't wanna talk about it, huh?"

Kiba snickered.

Sai simply blinked, his voice dry, "Ah, yes. The desperate mating displays of men." He shook his head, the motion causing his dull black hair to fall slightly over his equally dull eyes, "We're using cologne to turn our women into rabid animals now?"

"Yeah, that sounds dangerous. I'll pass on that." Neji sighed deeply, rolling his pale eyes in exasperation, 

"It sounds… like cheating," Lee muttered, giving his bushy head a firm shake. His cheeks were bright red, and though he tried to keep a straight face, his embarrassment was obvious—this kind of talk was miles outside his comfort zone.

Naruto, on the other hand, merely scoffed, throwing a teasing glance at Sasuke, "Cheat or not, that sounds like something right up Sasuke's alley." He hummed playfully, feigning thought, "Yeah, maybe he needs some of that cologne too. Who knows, it might patch things up with Sakura-chan—get 'em back in the sheets again." 

"Shut the hell up, dobe."

"Nah, you shut up and be a man." Naruto snickered, "Get your cock out of your hand, get that cologne, and reclaim your woman's pussy, teme!" He laughed, unable to hold back his amusement.

"I said shut the hell up."

Shikamaru smirked, shaking his head, clearly entertained, "Tch. You act cocky now, Naruto, but when you're on the train to Kyoto tomorrow, dropping hella cash on a bottle of Imperium Noir, I don't wanna hear it."

Those words stopped Naruto's laugh dead in its tracks. 

The weight of Shikamaru's words sank in deep, and the playfulness that had been coursing through him moments before vanished in an instant.

"Nah, bet your ass I won't." Naruto shot back, trying to shrug it off.

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Shikamaru rolled his eyes, finally drifting his attention back to his beer. 

Naruto scoffed, trying to dismiss the thought—but damn it, the idea had already wormed its way into his head. He couldn't shake what Shikamaru had said. Couldn't shake the way he described Temari's transformation—how one bottle of cologne had supposedly changed everything for him.

And Temari?

She wasn't just any woman.

She was fierce, independent, and, above all else, stubborn as hell. When it came to anything even remotely emotional or affectionate, Temari wasn't exactly the go-to girl.

That just wasn't her thing.

Hell, if you asked Shikamaru—and he's certainly bitched and moaned about it enough—she was about as affectionate as a damn cactus. Tough on the outside, spiky all over, and just enough warmth buried deep down that you would have to be incredibly brave or just straight up stupid to go digging for it.

So the very thought of Temari—the same woman who once gave Shikamaru the cold shoulder for forgetting to take out the trash—suddenly getting touchy, clingy, and openly soft with him?

All because of a bottle of cologne?

Now, that was wild.

Damn near unbelievable.

And yet…

Naruto couldn't help but think about Hinata.

His eyes drifted to the side, the constant hum of conversation around him fading into a dull blur—voices blending together, indistinct, background noise.

He was there physically—but his mind?

It was somewhere else entirely.

Lost in thoughts of…her.

His wife.

For as long as he could remember, Hinata had always been timid.

From the very first moment he met her to now—married and all—she had always remained the same. It was simply who she was, a trait so deeply ingrained into her being that he doubted it would ever change—especially when it came to expressing herself.

Hinata was… for lack of a better word, just too careful.

In their relationship, he noticed she always played it safe—never stepping beyond her comfort zone. And by that, he meant she never truly let herself open up.

Now, don't get him wrong—Hinata checked off a hell of a lot of boxes. She was sweet, gentle, and soft—always there when he needed her, ready with a comforting smile, the warmest hugs, and the kind of support that never needed words.

She was, in every way, the perfect wife.

Some would even say the definition of one. 

Always thoughtful, always attentive—like how she'd press his suits and button-downs to perfection, every crease smooth and ready before he ever had to ask. Or the way she'd have his favorite meal waiting on the nights he came home late from work, or always keeping his shoes polished and neatly lined up by the door. 

She paid attention to the small things, the kind of details that most people overlooked.

She made his life easier.

Made it better. 

But still...

Something was missing.

As incredible as Hinata was—as much as she gave—there was always a part of her that still…held back.

Hinata never asked for much.

She was never demanding or bold—always reserved, always considerate of him and what he needed, what he wanted. In fact, she often put his needs before her own, always focusing on his comfort rather than pursuing what she truly desired. 

And now that he really thought about it, she never actually…did that before. 

Chased her own desires. 

Naruto thought about the moments they shared—those intimate nights.

He remembered how she would get so shy when he'd touch her, how her words were always soft and hesitant. Even when he could see the flicker of desire in her eyes, she was always careful with it, as though she wasn't sure if she was allowed to want, allowed to ask for more. 

He loved her deeply, he did—there was no doubt about that.

But that frustrated the hell out of him.

In bed, it was never wild, never over-the-top, never that flash of heat that took them both by storm.

It was just…Hinata holding herself back.

Most of the time. 

Hell, all of the time. 

There were times when he'd try to draw it out of her—gently coax it, ease her into opening up. But damn, it was like pulling teeth just to get her to admit what she really wanted. Even when she did say something, admitted just a grain of her desires, it was hard to tell if she was being completely honest or if she was simply trying to make him happy.

He was never quite sure if he was actually scratching her itch, or just getting played by that cute smile of hers—mainulpated ever so sweetly into believing that she was satisfied when deep down…

…she really wasn't.

"Am I… doing this right?"

"I—I don't know if this is okay, Naruto-kun." 

"No, no, Naruto-kun, that's embarrassing!"

Naruto could hear her now—that soft voice of hers. 

Questioning him. Chickening out on him. Swatting him away. 

It had taken everything in him to keep his patience, to fight the urge to grab her, give her a good shake, and tell her that it was fine—that she didn't need to be so unsure. But it was moments like that—when she questioned her own desires—that made him wonder if he was truly connecting with her in those moments in bed, or if he was just making her feel even more subconscious. 

His thigh started its bouncing again.

The crazy part was, he could sense it in her—Hinata wanted more. She did. 

It was clear in the way she'd look at him, the way she'd melt when he was buried between her thighs, when he held her wrists above her head and gave it to her slow and deep—just enough to hear the faintest tremor in that sweet voice of hers.

But she never said a word.

Maybe… it was an insecurity thing. 

Or maybe ignorance.

Or… fear?

Was she just scared to ask for more? Did she feel like it wasn't something she deserved? Or did she just not know where to even begin to ask?

His fingers dug into his face, his palms pressing hard against his eyes, frustration rolling off him in waves.

Damn it.

He didn't want to sound like a douche, but damn, it was getting harder to ignore. He wanted to give his wife everything—he wanted to be the one who made her feel like she could truly be herself, unafraid to ask for what she wanted, no matter what it was.

He wanted her to be selfish with him, to let herself take without hesitation.

But how could he, when she wouldn't let him in?

Naruto bit his lip, lowering his hands from his face. 

Maybe, just maybe…

His thoughts wandered again, drifting back to the conversation from before, to the idea that had started to take root in his head. He couldn't shake the feeling that maybe something like this—this cologne—could be the thing that finally changed everything.

Could this be the key to make Hinata feel more comfortable? To dissolve that lingering cloud of hesitation—to gently pull back the curtain and finally get her to open up more? To make her feel like she could truly ask him for what she wanted, without fear, without doubt—without holding herself back?

Could something as simple as a bottle of cologne really change everything between them?

Naruto's mind raced. 

Maybe a little nudge, a little help from something like this, could finally let her embrace her own desires, instead of always worrying about his.

He smirked. 

Kyoto, huh?

Naruto's grip tightened around his beer glass as he leaned back in his chair, the thought lingering in his mind, the seed now planted. 

Maybe, that's not a bad idea, after all.

He actually did it.

He's actually… here.

With a shaky grin tugging at his lips, Naruto stood outside a small, upscale boutique, his blue eyes flicking nervously between the minimalist sign above the door and the glowing screen of his phone in his hand.

The shop was exactly where Shikamaru said it'd be—tucked in a quiet little corner of Kyoto's bustling district. And yeah—this place was definitely fancy. The kind of fancy that made you feel underdressed just by breathing near the entrance. From the polished black glass doors, to the matte finishes, to the complete absence of any flashy signage—everything about this place screamed one thing: exclusive.

Even down to the clientele. 

Sharp-dressed, sleek, and clearly loaded—the kind of men whose wallets were probably thicker than Naruto's forearm, who wore custom-tailored suits, drove imported cars, and likely never touched instant ramen a day in their lives. 

The bougie aura rolling off every man who walked in and out of the entrance made one thing painfully clear—this place wasn't built for the everyday man. Definitely wasn't built for 'commonor's.' This was one of those "you touch it, you buy it" establishments. 

But that wasn't enough to scare Naruto off. 

Because no matter how out of place he felt…if this cologne could really do what Shikamaru claimed?

Then…it'd be worth it. 

With a wider and far more confident smirk, Naruto glanced back down at his phone, staring at the text thread with Shikamaru.

Naruto: Yo, what was the name of that store again? You know, the one with the fancy cologne you were raving about. 

Shikamaru: Haha, I knew you'd cave. You had that look on your face the second I mentioned it. 

Shikamaru: You just couldn't resist, could you?

Naruto rolled his eyes.

He wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that he'd spent over two hours on a train just to stand in front of this uppity store, all for a damn bottle of cologne, or the fact that Shikamaru was being so damn smug about it.

He shook his head, reading on. 

Naruto: Shut up, man. Just give me the goods.

Shikamaru: Alright, alright. 

Shikamaru: Like I said, it's in Kyoto. The store's called Scented Dreams. Pretty easy to find once you're there. 

Naruto stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

Kyoto. 

Damn. 

It felt almost surreal that he was even here. He hardly ever visited this side of Japan—never really had a reason to.

But it was worth it…right?

He was honestly hoping so. 

He stared at the storefront again, and there it was, the name glowing on the sign: Scented Dreams.

He was really here.

His gaze shifted back to his phone as he scrolled through the last few texts, refreshing his memory of what he'd sent and received while riding on the train earlier. 

Naruto: Sweet. 

Naruto: And the cologne's name again?

Shikamaru: Imperium Noir.

Naruto clicked his tongue as he stared at the final text.

"This better be worth it, Shika," He muttered under his breath, pocketing his phone. With a deep breath, he finally turned his full attention to the shop in front of him.

Well, it's now or never.

Taking yet another deep breath, he took the first step forward. 

The door seemed to loom larger as he walked toward it, the soft chime of the bell above ringing out as he finally pushed it open.

"Hello! Welcome to Scented Dreams!" A feminine voice greeted warmly as Naruto stepped through the door.

But he barely heard her. 

His attention was immediately grabbed by the overwhelming sight in front of him.

 Colognes. 

So many colognes. 

Rows upon rows of elegant bottles. 

Gleaming glass shelves stretched wall to wall, stacked high with fragrances in every shape, size, and color imaginable. To the left, to the right, and all around him—bottles everywhere.

Scents for days.

Naruto's left eye twitched.

How the hell was he supposed to find Imperia-whatever in all this?

He barely acknowledged the woman at the counter, giving her a half-hearted nod without even glancing her way as he stepped deeper inside.

Just take one aisle at a time.

With that thought in mind, he began at the first row, taking a slow, steady approach—section by section. It seemed like the best strategy to navigate the place. Just work his way through until he found what he was looking for. 

Should be simple enough. 

He gave the first sign above a brief glance.

"Floral & Fresh Scents."

The first row he passed was filled with light floral, delicate, soft scents. Like lush gardens or the crisp, refreshing breeze of spring.

There were lavender and rose-based colognes, their bottles so carefully designed they looked like they belonged in a perfume ad.

He read the gold lettering on the labels as he moved past them:

Lavender Whispers.

Pure Bloom.

Soft Reverie.

Naruto couldn't help but wrinkle his nose.

Hell nah. 

These scents felt a bit too…feminine for his taste.

He shook his head and moved on.

"Earthy & Woody Scents"

The next row was filled with exactly what the sign above promised—deep, dark bottles that gave off the rich, grounding scents of pine trees, oak, and sandalwood. 

Now, this was more his speed. 

A few of the labels caught his eye as he walked down the row. 

Deep Oak.

Sandalwood Silence.

Oak Ember.

The names were simple, but they spoke to him. Perfect fit for his style. For a brief moment, he had the urge to pick up a few bottles, the temptation almost too much to resist. 

But then his eyes drifted to the prices underneath the labels.

Deep Oak – ¥15,000

Sandalwood Silence – ¥18,500

Oak Ember – ¥20,000

He put his hand right back down. 

Double hell nah. 

He didn't come here for any of these overpriced bottles. He only came here for one cologne, and one cologne only. He wasn't about to drop half his paycheck on a bottle just because it smelt good.

Maybe some other time. 

So, he moved on again. 

He took a few more steps and passed by a section filled with spicy, citrusy colognes, the kind that smelled sharp and refreshing, like orange zest and cinnamon. 

"Spicy & Citrusy Scents"

The bottles were vibrant and bold, a few of them in fancy little vials, elegant flacons, and sleek black bottles. They looked more like decorative pieces of art than mere cologne containers.

Citrus Blaze.

Spiced Ember.

Naruto clicked his tongue, shoving a hand in the pocket of his white slacks. 

Damn. 

There were so many—amber, patchouli, vanilla, earthy—the list felt endless. 

Naruto's blue eyes flicked from one row to the next, each scent more overwhelming than the last.

But no sign of Imperidum Nort anywhere.

He ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair in frustration, his mind spinning. It felt like a game of chance now, a search for a needle in a haystack of scents.

Where the fuck is it?

Naruto finally reached the far end of the aisle and paused, exhaling a small sigh of relief when his eyes landed on a staff member—a tall man, carefully stocking rows of sleek bottles onto the shelf.

Without hesitation, he made a beeline straight for him.

"Sumimasen!" He called out, nearly breathless, "Mind if I steal a minute of your time, sir?" 

The attendant straightened at the sound of Naruto's voice, turning in his direction. The spiky-haired blonde stepped in front of him, drawing in a deep breath as his eyes flicked down to the neatly pinned name tag on his chest.

Hiroshi.

"Of course! How can I help you, sir?" Hiroshi asked, offering a polite smile, "Is there anything I can help you locate today?"

Naruto hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Actually, there's something I was hoping you could help me with," He glanced at his name tag again, "Hiroshi-san."

The ginger-haired man nodded, clearly eager to assist.

"This is actually my first time here," Naruto said. "A friend recommended the place to me—"

Hiroshi's face lit up with enthusiasm.

"Excellent! You're certainly in for a treat!" He said brightly, "We've got a huge selection here—amber, sandalwood, fresh citrus blends, spicy musks, and don't even get me started on the florals!" He briefly glanced down, his eyes catching the ring on Naruto's finger.

"Ahh, yes, I'm sure you and your significant other will love—"

"No, no, I'm looking for something very specific," Naruto interjected, feeling his impatience grow. He noticed the male attendant's enthusiasm waver just a bit, and a small pang of guilt hit him.

"No, no, I'm actually looking for something pretty specific,"  Naruto interrupted, his tone firmer than intended as a flicker of impatience crept in. He caught the way the male attendant’s smile dimmed just slightly—and fuck, that made him feel a little bad. 

He couldn't deny that it did. 

"Gomen," He said with a slight bow of his head before straightening up. Maybe he should just to get straight to the point then.

"I'm actually looking for Imperia Norm—"

Hiroshi blinked, a bit confused, "Imperia norm? I don't think—"

"No, no," Naruto said, shaking his head, "It's Imperidum Norma or… maybe Imperium Norp?" He muttered to himself, trying to get the name right.

Hiroshi's brows furrowed, clearly confused, and Naruto could feel himself getting more tangled up in the name.

"Imper... Imperidum... Imperia—fuck." Naruto cursed under his breath. 

He let out a frustrated sigh, reaching into his pocket, "Hold on, hold on, just give me a sec."

He pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling through the texts from Shikamaru. When he found the message he needed, he turned the screen toward Hiroshi, pointing at the name with his index finger.

"That one right there," Naruto said, pointing. "That's the one I've been looking for."

Hiroshi's eyes widened the moment he caught sight of the cologne name on the phone screen.

"Ah!" He exclaimed, his expression lighting up, "I knew it! I wasn't totally sure, but I had a feeling that's what you were asking for." He nodded, excitement in his voice, "Imperium Noir, that's one of our best sellers!"

Naruto's face brightened with relief, "Hah, yes! That's the one." 

Hiroshi smiled, his excitement evident as he stepped forward, "Follow me, I'll take you right to it."

Naruto bowed respectfully, lower than before, "Arigato gozaimasu." 

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and stepped onward, following Hiroshi as he led him deeper into the store.

"Thank you for shopping at Scented Dreams! Come back again sometime!"

Naruto barely heard the cashier's cheerful words as he stepped out of the store, the bag containing his new cologne now dangling in his hand.

He had it. He really had it. 

The Imperium Noir.

Naruto moved quickly through the crowded streets of Kyoto, the bag in his hand feeling heavier than expected. He actually felt…excited, but there was also an undeniable sense of disbelief gnawing at him too. 

Of course there was. 

The cost of that damn cologne was now a permanent stain in his mind—the image of the moment he brought it to the counter, watched the cashier scan the barcode, and then saw that godforsaken price flash up on the register screen. The price had been astronomical—he could hardly wrap his head around how much he'd just spent.

A hefty ¥30,000.

Nearly two hundred damn dollars. 

Yeah, that fucking stung.

And now, he was just eager to hop on the train and get his ass home. He'd already blown enough cash for the weekend. 

With a few swift strides and the help of his long legs, it didn't take long for Naruto to have his wish granted.. Grinning, he stepped through the familiar entrance of the Shinkansen—the sleek bullet train prepped and ready to depart for Tokyo.

His last stop. 

Naruto quickly slid into one of the empty seats—by the window, of course. Hands down the best seat in the entire train, no question. He sank into the cushioned chair with a long, relieved sigh, the tension of the day slowly unraveling as the padding welcomed him with the kind of comfort only a tired body could appreciate.

Two more hours, then he'd be home.

Once the train doors slid shut and the last passenger settled into their seat, Naruto didn't waste a single second. He barely spared a glance at the woman and child seated beside him—his attention was zeroed in on one thing and one thing only.

His new purchase. 

With barely contained excitement, he reached for his bag and placed it onto his lap. His fingers traced the smooth surface, gliding slowly back and forth, as if savoring the anticipation. Slowly but surely, it all began to sink in—the reality of what sat inside this very bag was finally hitting him.

And it was finally his—all his.

And now that it was, he had to see it again. Touch it. Maybe even get a little whiff. 

So, without hesitation, his fingers worked at the ribbon's knot, tugging it loose. The wrapping sighed as it parted—a whisper of sound that seemed too loud in the quiet of the train. His breath caught, ribs pressing tight against his lungs as he leaned closer, gaze dropping into the darkness yawning within the bag. 

And there it was—right there.

Waiting for him.

His hands trembled slightly as he slid the cologne out of the bag and carefully removed it from its sleek black case, his eyes finally getting a good look at the bottle.

The cologne container was completely blue—a color so rich, it reminded him of the ocean at night. If he were being honest, it was actually pretty damn beautiful. 

The surface of the bottle had a subtle shimmer, catching the bright light in the rocking train like a glint of ice. The label was sleek and elegant, with the name "Imperium Noir" etched in gold lettering, boldly standing out against the deep blue of the bottle, right across the center.

Naruto turned the bottle over in his hands, blue eyes narrowing as he gave it a thorough once-over.

At first glance, it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary.

Just fancy.

Expensive as hell.

The kind of bottle you'd see sitting on some billionaire's vanity—not something you'd expect to be a certified woman magnet though. 

Still, he took his time, studying it, the weight, the feel, the high-end finish of the glass. And as he did, Hiroshi's words—the store clerk from Scented Dreams—came echoing back to him.

"Imperium Noir is a signature scent..." Hiroshi's voice played again in his mind, crisp and smooth.

"Deep, icy notes... a spicy undercurrent... and just a touch of woodsy spazzazz."

Naruto hummed under his breath, tilting the bottle slightly. 

Sounded simple enough. 

Nothing too crazy. Nothing over-the-top.

But then—his brows furrowed.

Because the rest of Hiroshi's words came rushing back as well. 

The warning.

The part that didn't feel quite so… simple.

"Just a heads-up—Imperium Noir comes with a bit of a…disclaimer," Hiroshi had said, his voice dipping into something a little more serious.

"If I were you, I'd go light with it—just a couple of sprays. Trust me, a little's all you need."

Naruto remembered how the guy had paused then—leaned in close too, which honestly creeped him the hell out at the time.

"Because if you're not careful? It doesn't creep up. It hits. Fast. Hard. And then? Things get… intense."

Another pause.

"Not for you, necessarily—"

"—but for the woman waiting for you at home."

Naruto smirked, running the tip of his tongue quickly across his lips.

Intense, huh?

The cologne sounded so perfect in the store—right up his alley, in fact. But now, with the bottle in his hands and the reality of his purchase settling in, Naruto couldn't help but wonder if it could really live up to all the hype.

By hype, he meant Shikamaru, and how much he'd been gassing it up.

Naruto gave the bottle a gentle shake, listening to the faint swish of the liquid inside, "Alright… what's so special about you, huh?" He murmured to himself, more out of curiosity than any real expectation.

With a quick flick, he twisted off the cap. The soft click of it coming loose cut clean through the quiet hum of the train. He hesitated for a moment, bottle hovering near his face, then brought it closer to his nose…

….and finally took an inhale.

Instantly, the first whiff hit him like a wall—bold, rich, almost overwhelming. 

Indeed, it was woodsy, with a subtle icy spice that instantly gripped his senses, pulling him in completely. He took another sniff, this time catching a citrusy note, light and refreshing, cutting through the deep richness of the scent.

He pulled the bottle away from his face, his mind racing as he gave it another once-over, the scent still lingering in his senses.

That… wasn't so bad.

Naruto couldn't stop himself.

He brought the bottle back for another sniff. 

Then another. 

And another.

With each inhalation, the layers of the fragrance seemed to reveal something new—deeper, more enticing. It drew him in—layer by layer, more intense with every breath.

And then, it happened.

He felt his body…relax.

The initial sharpness of the scent, which had completely blindsided him at first, gradually began to mellow, easing into something…more. The icy bite faded into a warm, spicy undertone like the cologne was opening up to him, to his senses—adapting to him.

It was strange… soothing, even. 

His shoulders, tight since the moment he'd stepped foot into Scented Dreams, finally began to loosen, the tension bleeding out of him as he sank further into the plush train seat. He could feel it—his body melting, his thoughts softening at the edges, the scent wrapping around him like a silk noose he didn't want to escape.

…like a spell. 

He tried—fuck, he tried—not to moan.

There was just…something about it—something almost addictive. Like no matter how many times he breathed it in—once, twice, three times—it still wasn't enough.

He needed more.

A craving he couldn't satisfy.

"Damn.." Naruto muttered to himself, almost in awe. 

This… was more than he expected.

With a slight shiver running through him, he lifted the bottle to the light once more, watching the liquid shimmer inside it. 

He shook his head in disbelief, "This... this is fucking good."

Just as he was about to take another sniff, a soft clearing of the throat snapped him out of his trance. He quickly turned his head to the right, where the woman and child had been sitting before. But now, the woman was staring, no, glaring at him, her expression tight and disapproving—most likely because of his language.

Naruto sweat droppped, and he let out a nervous laugh, realizing he might've gotten a little too carried away. 

He quickly bowed his head, apologizing, "Gomenasai, miss."

The woman's eyes softened slightly, though the protective edge remained, especially with her child nearby, "You're fine... just please watch the language."

Naruto straightened up, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, "Right. My bad."

The woman nodded curtly, her eyes briefly glancing at the cologne in his hand before she turned away, returning to tend to her child.

Minding her own business once more.

Naruto did the same. 

He straightened back up in his seat, feeling the tension melt away just as quickly as it had come. Inevitably, his attention shifted right back to the cologne in his hand. His fingers traced the smooth glass of the bottle, marveling at its sleek design.

Yeah, it's official.

His decision to buy the cologne—despite the jaw-dropping price tag—actually felt worth it. Yeah, it had cost him a lot. A whole lot. But now, sitting there with the sleek bottle cradled in his hands, after just experiencing that scent, he didn't regret a thing.

Shikamaru was right—this stuff was the real deal. 

Naruto's fingers curled a little tighter around the bottle as he leaned back into the plush seat, the smooth hum of the train fading into the background. 

For the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he'd made the right choice.

Now, the only thing left is to give it a try. 

With a smirk creeping across his whiskered face, he pulled the bottle up to his neck and gave himself a spritz.

Continue Reading on Wattpad Or AO3.

||🖤𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓜𝓮, 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓜𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷🖤||

[lonewolflupe]

DELTA SQUAD WEEK | @deltasquadweek | Day 4: Tell Fixer That ART: Day 1 | Day 2 | Scorch Day | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 FICS: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: Could you can the chatter; unfortunately, Scorch has little useful to say today (AO3) Tags: bickering, brotherly love (SFW) Words: 640 Featuring: RC Scorch, RC Sev, RC Fixer, RC Boss

Waiting to move on to be able to disintegrate more droids was always a tedious job, and Scorch wasn’t known as a patient man – not outside prepping explosives. When Delta Squad found themselves on a Separatist assault ship, waiting for Fixer to override the weapon systems so it wouldn’t be a threat to the incoming Republic cruiser, Scorch filled their time with witty chatter – to the annoyance of some.

Hunched to the durasteel floor, occasionally shooting a look around the corner to see if any hostiles were inbound, he rhythmically tapped his fingers on his thigh armour. “Why is it taking so long..,” he muttered softly, but clear enough for his brother to hear. “Missed a button,” came Sev’s blunt reply, but it made Scorch snort anyway. He tilted his head towards Sev, the mischievous grin on his face lost underneath his helmet. “By the time we can advance, all those clankers will be too rusted to move.” Sev made a low grunt as he shrugged, followed by “I know I'm gonna shoot something.”

Scorch chuckled softly, before slamming his fist into Sev’s shoulder. “Hey, tell Fixer that he should hurry or I'll bring in the explosives,” he joked, but like always, there was a grain of truth to it. “Tell him yourself,” Sev simply responded, his voice low and gruff, and not for the first time, with a hint of annoyance. Suddenly, and to the horror of Scorch, Fixer’s voice buzzed into their helmets. “You're aware not everything can be solved with an explosive solution?”

There was a brief moment of rare silence before Scorch addressed his slicing brother. “Okay first of all, it most definitely can, with the right amount.” He lovingly tapped the gear he was carrying with him, before continuing. “Secondly, it's rude to eavesdrop; that conversation was private.” Without averting his gaze from the screen in front of him, Fixer shot back at Scorch. “It isn't private if you clutter the squad's channel.” “That was Sev's and mi-” “Check again, Six-Two.”

A loud, exaggerated gasp was heard over their comm channel when Scorch realised, before he continued his show of dismay. “So you also heard about my blacks being super tight around my ba-” “Unfortunately, yes,” Fixer cut in quickly, making sure 62 couldn’t finish his sentence, and his voice sounded more disappointed than usual. “That was so private,” Scorch whispered, mostly to himself, but apparently, everyone was listening in on the conversation.

The sigh coming from Fixer’s end told everyone he was about to give another reproving preach. “I could've been done by now, if it hadn't been for your clutter.” Scorch sputtered for a moment, before coming up with a witty reply. “That was actually pretty serious, but also, boo on you for blaming us for taking so long.” This time, it was Sev adding to the bickering. “Don't drag me into this.” “Sev, did you know we were on the squad's channel?” “It was right on the HUD.” “And you didn't warn me?” “As if that would've stopped you.” “Well, would you-”

“Boys,” Boss’ voice finally chimed in, sounding calm but with a clear warning to it. It did shut up the squad instantly, right until Fixer finished his slicing job. “Weapon systems are offline,” he proclaimed before picking up his Deece, ready to make for the rendezvous to evac. “I didn't think I'd ever be happy to hear those words,” Scorch shot into the comm channel, never knowing when to shut up. His remark simply got ignored when Boss addressed them. “Well done, Fixer,” he started, acknowledging his skill instead of criticising the time it had taken, “Now let's get off this bucket of bolts before the Republic blasts it to space dust – and us with it.”

That was enough motivation to can it and continue to the RV in unity.

Dividers by @/orangez3st

To be honest I cannot get enough of them bickering

Taglist (read to join): @aknightreaderr @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @kotemf @thecoffeelorian @star-wars-lycanwing-bat @bixlasagna @dreamie411 @heidnspeak @earlgreyci @cyaretra @bulletproofskoll @alor-ika @feralferrule @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig

[mychoombatheroomba]

Danger Close

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 9

Well, fuck.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

You’d known you were in trouble the minute he’d jumped into that fight after you. Seeing his grin that night - seeing him smile despite all that he’d suffered - only confirmed it, because the sight was enough to make you smile right back. Happy to see him happy. 

When the hell had that started to matter? 

From the beginning, you called yourself on your own bullshit. You’d apologized to him for your first meeting for your own benefit, yes, but something in it had become genuine when you’d seen his sad blue eyes. You’d given him the advice you’d given him because he was sweet. Too sweet for where he was and who he was going to have to become. You’d agreed to help him because you wanted to see him do well. 

His happiness had always been a factor. It played second fiddle to his well-being, his preparedness, but it was a factor, nonetheless. And now, it was becoming not just a factor but a priority. 

For a year now, you had resigned yourself to solitude. Promised yourself peace in the form of isolation, because people were so easily ended. You were safer from afar, but now the missile was inbound, and you were in the blast zone. "Danger close" your Captain had called it. When you could see the missile arcing in the sky, knowing that you missed your opportunity to run, to get to a safe distance. Now all you could do was let the hard truth make landfall.

Your promise to yourself was going to be broken, and so was your solitude. 

Because one way or another, you and Leon Kennedy were in this together, now. You did your best not to let that revelation distract you as you and he danced around the knife between you. Just as you tried not to notice the little flush on his cheeks whenever you would turn the blade and get just a little too close. The way his pretty, pale eyes lingered on your own. How much you didn't mind the attention. 

Forget playing with fire, you felt like you were entering a minefield. Something in you was screaming that continuing would just leave you in pieces.  

Even so, you felt yourself take that first step forward.

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Chapter Index

A/N: Just a little one this time, because Sarge (you) needed a minute to just go "Oh shit, I like that little guy."

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 TXF Fic Rec #48: "Flight #1539, Inbound from Denver, Will Be Delayed" by Sab

Tipsy Scully at an airport bar, striking up a conversation with a stranger—guess who comes up? Things spiral fast.

This talk!fic hits just the right mix of funny, angsty, and sweet, and ends with an aww-inducing hurt/comfort moment that made me swoon. Sab’s writing shines with beautiful prose and tight dialogue.

---

🥏 on AO3 🥏 on 2close4comfort

length: short, 3,000+ words season: season 6 pairing(s): M/S UST, Scully/Other (sort of) tags: angst, fluff, humor, talk fic rating: G

Tagging @today-in-fic

[septima-severa]

The Lesson in Patience (Thrawn x reader NSFW)

After yesterday's Thrawn makes reader desperate, I finished the piece rather in haste. It all started as a little "girl talk" between the reader and Pyrondi during their sparring session, though. Then I remembered that I mentioned the art of rope bondage somewhere along the Thrawn x reader story on Peridea. And I wanted to return to it, even though there is currently no space for it in the Inbound Flight - so I had to make a little side story with it again. Originally, it was supposed to be the reader choosing her "punishment" for losing a bet, but instead, I got a little experiment here. While I'm not a shibari practicioner, I do hope it's believable. Or let's make it a Chiss-specific erotic art? You choose.

The whole story can be found on AO3.

Your muscles ached, protesting the sudden abuse of them. Thysa Pyrondi was a mighty opponent in sparring, and you had a difficult time parrying her advances, avoiding being hit by her sticks only by a hair’s width too often for your liking. She was grinning like possessed, jumping around you like a pixie, even though you had been in the dojo for close to an hour – and it definitely felt longer. “I’m not letting you wander on the planet’s surface until you prove to me that you’re ready,” she teased you.

You swung the staff at her feet, but she just got out of your reach – again. Eventually, you ended up sprawled on the mat under her, disarmed.

“You’ve got better, but not enough just yet, Lady Thrawn,” she grinned, “and you smell of him.”

“That happens when you give birth to a melon. And when you live in close quarters with a man,” you huffed, thinking how to dislodge her weight from your torso.

“You can always move to the quarters next to mine, you know,” she flashed a toothy smile at you, and you snorted prior to buckling wildly under her strong thighs. That made her release you – but only because Pyrondi had loosened her hold in the first place.

The fight continued.

Eventually, she lost, and you knelt on her back to hold her down while Thysa beat the mat in defeat. “I don’t know, Pyro, maybe I can’t live without certain blueberry man fucking me senseless every other night,” you whispered, bending over her. “Or: we just play a round or two of sabacc in the evenings and then part ways, you choose.” Then you released her, plopping down on the mat beside her.

Thysa snorted. “Yeah, and Rishmu was a gift from guba bird,” she mumbled before regaining her voice. “Well, the screwing part could certainly be arranged,” she turned her head to you, still catching her breath. “But if your kink is the colour of his cock, then I’m afraid that you’ll find no other man with this particular shade on board.”

“You can’t leave it alone, can you?” you puffed, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

“You started it!” She stuck out her tongue at you. “So, he’s a good fuck then?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know.”

“True, I suppose I don’t wanna know what’s under that uniform, could be tentacles for all I care.”

“Exactly, that’s none of your business.”

“But blueberry? Really?”

“A native fruit of my homeworld,” you shrugged.

“On second thought, though, only a miserable person sticks to a bad lover,” she snickered. “But if you need rest from him sheeting you mercilessly every other night, you can rest in those vacant quarters.”

Then, both of you erupted into laughter, leaving the beep of the door lock go unnoticed. Before two other bridge officers entered, finding you rolling on the floor. It was a discrete cough that brought your attention to the new arrival. “Who’s winning?” Lieutenant Agral asked dryly, the other officer beside him grinning like an idiot.

You mustered enough strength to lift your arm and point to Pyrondi. “Five to two,” you huffed.

“Five to one,” she corrected you.

“Fine, whatever,” you rolled your eyes, collecting yourself from the mat slowly, then helping your opponent on her feet.

[maggotinadollhouse]

MAGGOT VENT INBOUND. FLEE THE AREA IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ME HAVING MY LITTLE JUSTIFIED TANTRUM. I'LL GET BACK TO MAKING MY REGULAR CONTENT SOON, JUST LET ME GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY FIRST.

🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛🐛

(LOOK AT THESE LITTLE BUGS IF YOU WANT TO!)

(Also, bear in mind that this is all that I know so far. Keep in mind there might be discrepancies that will be updated upon notice.)

So, recently, as some of you may or may not know, AO3 – among many other sites, but AO3 is the only one I use, so it's the focus for this post – was recently scraped by a lone individual and publicly uploaded onto the AI training site Hugging-Face as an AI dataset.

Thankfully, the dataset has been temporarily taken down, but, once active, any AI given the set will be able to intake and learn off of the vast majority (if not all) of the fics ever uploaded. (The summary of the dataset is in the picture below, to help you understand this a little better.)

After hearing of this, I'd like to say something. And I cannot POSSIBLY stress this enough. Pardon my French (/j) beforehand.

*Ahem.*

FUCK AI. JUST- IN GENERAL. SERIOUSLY.

It absolutely appalls me that it possessed someone to do this, but the consequences are horrifying (in my opinion). Works like my own, which have genuine passion put into them, could be fed to mindless robots with sentiency entirely artificial so as to train them to produce fics of their own that are wholly soulless and show no effort put into them other than the lazy input of a command. Works that have genuine blood, sweat and tears put into their bare bodies could be churned through an unfeeling machine to spew out new, horribly insipid works at the user's lazy will. (And the whole AI issue has been going on for ages. Just check the "Created with Generative AI" tag on AO3. Currently, there are 5,100 or so fics with that tag. Come on, people.)

And that's just referring to the use of AI on singular fics. This data-scrape affects the whole site, as far as I'm aware.

I didn't write my fics for this to happen. I didn't spend weeks developing the courage to sign up for an AO3 account for my content to be potentially stolen and fed to machines. I didn't spend all those hours as an eight-year-old reading fanfictions on Wattpad (prior to my discovery of the Archive), dreaming to be like those writers that I admired, for the content that I'd later produce to be stolen and used as training material for godforsaken generative robots. And I doubt anyone else wanted this, either.

Anyone who uses AI to write fanfiction, or endorses its use in the space of writing – a space that should be filled with human creativity – get off my blog. Get out. Now. This is a safe space for everyone, but it is not a safe space for lowlives like you.

"But- but- but AI makes it so much easier! 🥺" GET OFF YOUR ASS AND LEARN TO WRITE WELL LIKE THE REST OF US HAD TO.

To summarize: my blog – and all of my accounts across the internet – is never going to be safe spaces for AI, and I want none of my content used for its purposes. It scores no damn respect from me, and it never will.

...VENT OVER! OUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING WILL BE RESUMED SOON.

[puddle-nerd]

You’ll Do

Summary: You’re lucky you survived the crash but after you crawled to safety, well, the phrase was out of the pot and into the fire, right?

(Recombinant Jake Sully/Human Reader)

Story Tags: No Use of Y/N, Pre Way of Water, Slight Mention of Gore, Restraints, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neytiri Died, I’m Sorry, Manhandling, Verbal Degradation, Knife Kink, Mention of Non-Lethal Self-Harm, Mention of Blood, Panties Uses as a Gag, Extremely Dubious Consent, R4p3/Non-Consensual, Interspecies Sex, Na’vi Biology (Avatar – Cameron), Na’vi Language (Avatar – Cameron), Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Belly Bulge, Jake Sully Definitely Babbles During Sex, Creampie

So, this story was requested by @jakesullywhore, happy early birthday, baby girl 😘😘😘, on Tumblr back during Luna’s Kinktober Challenge (and she’s been wonderfully patient with me, I’m so, so, so sorry it took so long) and then it turned out… uh… quite a bit longer than I was originally expecting (insert sheepish shuffling here) in amongst several things happening all at once IRL so if you want to skip to the smut, and you’re over the age of eighteen, scroll down to the

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Na’vi Translation: Hì’i — small, little (size) Mawey – calm Olo’eyktan — clan leader (generally gender-neutral) Sevin — pretty (mainly for female(s)) Tawtute — human | Sky Person Toruk Makto — rider of last shadow | currently, Jake Sully

AO3 Link

You looked up as your supervisor groaned in protest as the supply train rumbled down the freshly built tracks, rocking with its momentum slowly but surely back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your gaze didn’t falter from him as he closed his eyes, trying to center himself so he didn’t vomit while his motion sickness made itself known. “Ya good, sir?” you asked over the hum of the engine and the sound of the wheels turning, your words making your mask fog up briefly. The compartment was atmospherically converted to oxygen but with the increase of raids by the one known as Toruk Makto and his Na’vi followers, it was better to be safe and have your mask on, just in case. “You’re really pale,” you added.

Actually, he looked kinda green and you were beginning to think he was going to puke any second now.

Your supervisor looked up at you from where he sat across the way and gave a weak smile from behind the plexiglass of his mask, sweat beading up visibly upon his forehead. You’d think he’d have been used to the way a train rocked, having claimed to be from New York back on Earth, but who were you to judge? You all had come out here for a chance at a better life and there really wasn’t anything back on your home planet for you, personally, so when they opened up opportunities for grunt work (i.e. luckily you were a high value information system tech), they let you grab a space on the next flight out to Pandora. Only to find yourself in a middle of a war zone and having to take care of people who hadn’t been informed of what they were getting into. You hadn’t really known either, but that was beside the point. You reached beneath your seat and leaned forward to hand him a vomit sack. Suddenly, the illumination turned a reddish hue from a warm white, a skreiching alarm blaring over the speakers, a voice shouting, “Missiles inbound! Port side! Brace for impact! Brace f–”

Then the world went topsy turvy as the train de-railed.

What happened next came to you in spurts. The screech of metal on metal. The blur of the red warning lights amongst the darkness of the cabin with the world turning itself upon its head mimicking a high-speed roller-coaster back on Earth. The pain of smacking your masked face into the cushion of your full-body harness. The reek of liquid iron and the stench of something burning, stinging your nose. The sound of high-pitched screams ripped from several throats. The taste of copper upon your tongue. Pain radiating throughout your body from the top of your head to the tips of your booted toes.

Then nothing.

No sight, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste…

Was it seconds later when you slowly regained consciousness?

Minutes?

Hours?

Your skull felt heavy and full of cotton as you very slowly lifted your chin, your eyelids blinking slowly as you took in the scene now, acutely aware of the ringing in your ears muffling everything else out. Shock rippled through you, icy and paralyzing, as you stared uncomprehendingly at the wreckage that had once been the train car you had been sitting in. Were still sitting in. Were you sitting? Your head ached.

Fear gripped you, your stomach turning as you surveyed the shattered glass, the debris of metal, splashes of dark liquid that smelled like the sharp tang of fuel and blood, and chunks of unidentifiable meat. You blinked slowly but the throbbing in your head refused to comprehend what you were gazing at – or maybe it was the shock of it all – and so you looked down at your own body. The harness was pulled tight around your chest and hips and your leg looked like it was bent at a funny angle for a moment, until you realized… it wasn’t your leg. Your hands trembled with a surge of adrenaline as you struggled to press the release clasps. Once you managed to liberate yourself from the strangling body-belt, you fell forward and stumbled to your feet, wobbling forward over questionable piles of… things you refused to look too closely at to get towards where you could see the light of day peeking out from where the door had crumpled in like tin, your limbs feeling like they were weighed down with lead blocks but you managed to slide yourself out, your gaze hazy and your mind slow as a turtle.

Pieces of shattered glass twinkled menacingly from the smoldering dirt in the sunlight amongst pieces of metal that should have been on the train.

Something huge suddenly swooped over your head and you lurched to the side as you saw a couple of colorful Mountain Banshees for the first time ever. You stared at them as they landed further down the wreckage and then noticed several very large bodies crawling over the train and the upturned earth.

You blinked and struggled to focus as you saw one of them, huge and blue, turn towards you, painted with black and green paint stripes all over his face and body beneath his battle band and very human-style tactical vest. You watched him incline his head before his lips drew back and he hissed in your direction and a new wave of adrenaline flooded your body.

You were going to die.

You didn’t think.

You just turned and ran.

You weren’t fast enough, though, and a sharp pain to the back of your head had you blacking out.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

You could hear them moving around you as you took stock of your situation, your eyes currently shut as you regained your other senses. There were at least two beings hissing at each other in a foreign language you recognized as the Na’vi tongue that you had no hope of understanding. The air smelled stale and recycled while you could taste a touch of iron on the back of your tongue. Your wrists were tied to the unforgiving metal table you were laying on, the cold seeped into your skin.

Your bare skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the realization that you were stripped almost fully naked and your eyes shot open. You tried to sit up only to jerk backwards, your wrists pulling tightly from where they were secured above your head. Your ankles were restrained as well.

“Oh, good, the sevin hì’itawtute is awake.”

You twitched, shrinking in on yourself as far as you could when you laid your gaze on two big blue striped beings watching you with interested golden eyes.

One was more serious, more intense, with his beaded braids hanging about his rounded cheeks and bordering his red ornate necklace. His broad shoulders, built chest, and thick arms looked more human-like except for the generous smattering of bioluminescent freckles adorning his striped sapphire skin. His torso tapered down into a slim waist, a leather band encircling just beneath his pecs. A light purple loincloth hung from a thin band over the front of his pelvis, a dagger longer than your forearm gracing his left hip. The other Na’vi was smirking much more mischievously at you, his heated golden eyes scanning your body with a hunger that made you shiver. His own braids, unadorned except for two hanging in front, were more towards the top of his head, the right side of his skull shaved. The second male was also so much leaner and gangly than the first, all long limbs with an equally lengthy torso and slutty, little waist though he was easily a couple of inches taller with less freckles that you could see. His dagger, hanging from his left lip, was a littler shorter as well above his simple green loincloth. They were both quite handsome in their unique ways.

“Go get Dad,” the broader male hissed in English.

You blinked.

Brothers?

The leaner male rolled his eyes with a sigh and turned on his heel and you felt your eyes widen as a blush stained your cheeks seeing that his loincloth left his firm backside on display. You glanced away only to see the remaining male raise a brow at you with a knowing look in his golden gaze. You flushed further and looked away, turning you eyes up towards the restraints holding your arms and then down to your ankles allowing you to see you still wore your sports bra and your thin, cotton panties.

The whoosh of the door opening again drew your attention and you choked.

While the two males were handsome, this third Na’vi – their father – made them pale in comparison. His long black hair was styled into thick, unadorned dreads and pushed back from his black and green streaked face. A woven band crossed over his forehead with something shimmering over his burning golden eyes was adorned with small, sharp bones that were probably as long as your hand from base to the tip of your middle finger. A wide, flat nose tipped in pink flared as he scented you, his thin lips pressing together. A comm unit acted as a choker as it settled at the base of his throat, just above a second necklace with five small stones. His shoulders were wide beneath his tactical vest, his chest was… beefy to say the least, and his biceps were near double the size of your head. His built torso tapered down into a trim waist cushioned lightly with an ever so slight, soft and inviting plushness, his brown loincloth embroidered with specialty woven knots around the hem and over the belt clinging to his hips. From mid-thigh to just above his ankles, dark brown leggings clung to his strong legs in a most sinful way that had you swallowing around a growing lump in your throat.

“Out,” the adult male hissed, his gaze not leaving you. He added something in the Na’vi language you had no hope of understanding.

The serious teen male nodded quietly and grabbed his brother by the back of the neck, pulling the mischievous-looking one roughly out of the… you supposed it was originally a shack laboratory that had been retrofitted to become your jailcell, hence why you could breathe without your mask.

You swallowed, watching the adult Na’vi male look over your nearly naked form once more.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, reaching down and unbuckling his tactical vest slowly, revealing a battle band in red and brown nestled just under his thick pectoral muscles, tossing the vest over to the side once he was freed. You shook your head because you weren’t sure. “You probably have heard of me. I’m known as Toruk Makto, more commonly called Jake Sully.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.

This was THE Jake Sully?

Oh, fuck… No wonder General Ardmore was determined to have LOTS of man and firepower because every inch of this Na’vi gave of vibes that screamed ‘lethal’.

You swallowed again and nodded, letting him know you now knew who he was. Your eyes flicked over every single inch of him once more and you shivered again at seeing that his whole body was defined muscle that human men wished they could have. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold of the table, the chill of the air, or the fact that he was seriously fucking hot but your whole body trembled. Not, that that meant anything. God, you hoped his ability to smell things was seriously overstated. “I’m telling you this so that you understand what’s about to happen to you.”

You wetted your lips with your tongue and whispered hoarsely, “You’re going to torture me for information?”

Golden eyes – darkened with rage – flicked your way and a slow smirk that promised things pulled at his thin lips, revealing sharp fangs that had your heart doubling in speed. He replied, “Something like that.” He removed the leather strap from around his middle and tossed it over to where the vest was now. “I know it’s not entirely your fault, you’re just a drop in the bucket of problems known as the human race trying to destroy Pandora,” he removed his headpiece and added it to the growing pile, “but I need to know who’s in charge and what your superiors are planning.” His tomahawk from the small of his back was the fourth thing he removed from his body, though this he placed on the table by your hip, chuckling meanly when you attempted to shift away from the sharp edges of the weapon.

“I’m just a lowly IT,” you admitted, fear making you jittery upon the table. “General Ardmore doesn’t even know my name.”

Jake leered at you nastily, unsheathing his front dagger and slamming it down by your head with a startling SLAM. You recoiled sharply, twisting your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as your heart beat vibrated within your chest. “That’s alright,” Jake hissed, bending down and breathing hotly into your ear. “I’m sure I can make use of you… somehow.” You trembled as he pulled back and circled your body on the table. “You know, up until about a year ago, I was happy,” he told you conversationally, trailing his callus roughened fingers over the softness of your body, causing you to flinch again and tremble. “Y’know, I was the Olo’eyktan, wha’chu call the clan leader.” He pinched at your fleshy hip, the one on the other side from where he had left his weapon, chuckling as you baulked away from his touch. “I was respected by The People,” he continued, moving towards your feet and you hoped to god he wouldn’t tickle your soles, “all throughout the vast jungles of Pandora. I had a wife and four beautiful children. Had.”

Oh… shit…

You met his gaze and now understood the fury in his golden depths.

Jake told you, voice flat and ice cold, “My wife, my mate, my better half, my Neytiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite died today because all of you stupid humans had to come the fuck back here where you weren’t wanted.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t killed her. You hadn’t killed anyone. But you could see the absolute wrath and the soul-shattering hatered burning deeply from within the golden depths of his eyes. You understood from just looking at him that he wouldn’t really listen to any of your words or, even if he did hear what you said to him, he wouldn’t actually care about them. Either way, he was about to take it out on you in one way or another.

“So… what do you have to say about that?” Jake demanded.

You gulped and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jake’s ears flicked back and he bared his teeth, shaking his head as his tail – he had a fucking tail! – lashed back and forth in agitation. “Y-you’re sorry? You’re sorry?! How’s that – how is that going to bring back my wife!?”

“It’s not! It’s – it’s not,” you yelped, flinching away from the fists he pounded down onto the metal table between your secured ankles as best you could, though it wasn’t much. You stuttered, tripping over your words, “But I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sully! I – I swear, I swear, I swear I had n-nothing to do with it! I – I’ve never killed any – anyone, I swear. I’m just a, uh, just a computer jockey!”

His nose flared as he scented you again and a wide, dark smirk adorned his features as a switch seemed to flip and an idea came to him.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·. Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene .·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

“Well, if you’re not high enough up the chain and have no useful information to give me, guess I’m gonna have to find a different use for ya,” Jake announced and reached down. The Na’vi male pressed a lever on the table and the table flipped nearly vertical to about a 75-degree angle, causing you to yelp in surprise as you were suddenly jerked upright, the tomahawk and the dagger sliding – luckily – harmlessly down to hit the floor with a loud double ‘CLANG’. He chuckled meanly down at you, pressing something else to lock you into place.

You gulped, begging to know as your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, “What are you going to do to me?”

The painted male just smirked, flashing his fangs.

Kneeling down between your legs, your whole body shivered of the sight of Jake exchanging your ankle restraints for his large hands, his grip strong and unyielding giving you no chance to kick him in his stupidly handsome face. You felt your belly twist itself into knots as a warm bubble of dread – yes, it was definitely dread and nothing else – began to build inside of you as an idea of how he was going to “make use of you” formed in the back of your mind.

Jake manipulated your legs apart and leaned in, pressing his flat, pink nose against the front of your panties, flaring as he sucked in a deep breath with a chuckle. “Well, …look at that. You’re liking this, little girl,” Jake hummed, rubbing his nose over the material separating him from your femininity. “If I strip you, how wet will I find you, you stupid fucking slut?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he added, “Guess I’ll find out in a second. Don’t move.” Letting go of one of your legs after placing it over his shoulder and nipping at it in warning to not kick him or anything, he grabbed his dagger from the floor and brought it up to your crotch. You whimpered, trying not to squirm as the sharp edge of his weapon was drawn carefully up the silken skin of your inner thighs, leaving little red welts but not actually splitting the skin, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You recoiled slightly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Jake reiterated with a rumbling growl, ears and tail both flicking in irritation.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, flinching when he tucked the sharp edge under the hem of your panties and tore it beyond repair. “Please…”

Jake smirked as he cut away your panties completely, muttering up towards you, “You’re gonna be saying that for a different reason in a little bit, little girl.” You froze, watching as he tossed the scraps of fabric away and raised his knife one more time, lifting it to the material of your sports bra and hooking it beneath the front hem. The material gave away just as easily as your panties had, ripping like paper up the middle, revealing your tits to his gaze before methodically cutting the shoulder straps of what used to be your chest covering. “Huh, you are actually pretty, aren’cha?” Jake muttered, more to himself than to you as he tossed the now useless fabric away and set his dagger back down onto the ground. His gaze drifted down to your pussy and he smirked. “Oh yeah, you are such a dirty little slut, aren’t ya?” Jake chuckled, finally placing your other leg over his shoulder and inspecting you. “Gonna be a tight fit but now… I can smell you even better, all sweet and musky. Wonder if you taste just as sweet?”

He leaned forward, cupping your upper thighs with his blue hands, and pressed his nose against your center, breathing deep.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, cringing as much as you could away from his touch. “Oh, please don’t do this. I – I don’t want this, Sully. Please.”

You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more.

Jake or yourself.

He ignored your words and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and sliding it up the seam of your cunt from the bottom to your clit. You yelped, jerking away from him again at the feel of what you might describe as sandpaper touched your most intimate of parts. It wasn’t… unpleasant… but it was, definitely, strange. He tightened his grip on your legs and did it again, collecting your wetness upon his tongue. And then again. And again. You chewed on your lower lip, trying not to make any further noises or to move, lest he got angry or thinking you were enjoying this.

‘You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t. You weren’t. You weren’t,’ you chanted to yourself.

“You can try to be quiet all you want, but I’ll get’cha to sing,” the Na’vi male told you confidently, smirk firmly in place on his azure skin. “Singing like an ol’ opera singer.” With that, he leaned in and began his attack on your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your cunt and rubbing his nose against your clit, determination pouring off of him to make you enjoy yourself, whether you liked it or not. The control this man had over his tongue made you bloody your lower lip from biting down so hard on it, just as equally resolute to not give in. No matter how good it felt. But Jake was a man on a mission, practically shoving his face against your pussy and feasting like you were going to be his last meal.

You felt the pleasure undeniably building, a choked whine building in the back of your throat.

Jake lifted his gaze and pulled back, seeing the blood trickling down your chin from where your teeth had dug too deeply. “Ah, fuck, don’t do that,” he grumbled and looked around swiftly. Spotting the remains of your bra and underwear, he grabbed your ex-chest covering and balled it up, wiping away the red liquid from your skin roughly, ignoring your mewl of pain. Now that your underwear was even more ruined, he tossed the sports bra back down and grabbed your panties, balling them up and shoving them into your mouth. “There now, no biting yourself while I enjoy my snack, you ungrateful brat,” he snarked picking up right where he left off and devouring your cunt like he was starving, humming as he dug his tongue deeper into your passage than you ever got with your own fingers. And his tongue was thick enough to almost resemble the girth of the silicon dildo you’d smuggled in the luggage you’d been allowed to bring with you from Earth.

You could no longer hold back the whimpers, your makeshift gag muffling your noise only somewhat.

“Yeah, that’s it, you needy little whore,” Jake chuckled against your clit before lapping at it greedily. “Let those noises out. Let me know what a filthy little slut you are for the first male Na’vi that gives you attention.” He laughed a little more to himself and then leaned in sucking on your hard nub as he slipped two broad fingers into your wet heat, curling them just so that had your eyes crossing as you jerked against your restraints and dug your heels into his shoulders while also trying to rut your hips up into his mouth and hand. “That’s it, bitch. I can feel you tightening. You’re getting close, aren’cha? Gonna cum with your enemy finger fucking you like a dirty, little slut?” Your inner walls clenched greedily around his digits and then he found a spot deep inside of you.

Your climax took you by surprise, running you over like a bus or a train…

‘Oh, too soon,’ you thought just before the euphoria overtook your senses.

You jerked in your restraints, screaming through the gag as you unraveled, your whole-body trembling with bliss.

“Fuck, yeah, look at you,” Jake sneered as he sat back on his heels, still curling his fingers inside of you as he rubbed circles over your clit to draw out your orgasm. “What a fucking little whore. Look how much you came for me.”

You sagged in your restraints, panting heavily and continuing to tremble, eyes widening when you saw how much his loincloth had tented.

The Na’vi male pushed himself to his feet and began to circle you, casually licking his fingers and palm clean of your slick while his tail flicked behind his toned, bare backside. You looked up at him as he came back around and stood in front of you, gazing at you expectantly but your throat didn’t want to work, didn’t want to form words. Especially with that monster of his pressing against the inside of his loincloth. So, you didn’t bother to try. Instead, Jake spoke up for you. “Got nothing to say?” the Na’vi demanded. You breathed out heavily through your nose and shook your head slowly. He snorted and lowered his gaze to watch the remnants of your orgasm trickling down your leg. He gripped himself, muttering, “You do taste as sweet as you smell, pretty, little slut. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.”

In any other situation, you might have been flattered.

Jake moved forward and towered over you, your head barely coming up to his sternum as you hung from the upright table. He smirked and reached down to untie his loincloth. “Think it’s gonna fit in your tight, little pussy, slut? You were squeezing my fingers all nice and snug,” he commented, letting the cloth drop, “I’m wondering if I’m gonna fit inside of you.” You whined, seeing the thick human-like cock spring upwards, firm and full. Jake’s dark blue shaft was decorated with pretty stripes of a lighter shade and bioluminescent white freckles scattered amongst ridges and nubs all over the length of him. What made you clench though, besides the sheer size of him, was that his light blue foreskin was pulling back from the pink tip of his cock to reveal that his slit was beginning to bead with pearlescent precum tinged silvery blue.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, quietly through your makeshift gag, no longer able to deny you were enjoying this.

Whether you liked it or not.

The Na’vi male chuckled and stroked himself a couple of times. “Yeah, thought you’d like this,” he leered down at you with a smirk. Letting himself go, his cock bobbed but continued sticking straight out from his pelvis. Jake stepped closer and grabbed your wet thighs, lifting you up and settling himself between your legs, his shaft hot and hard against the seam of your center so you could feel the texture only a Na’vi penis had; you whimpered, trembling in his grasp, pleasure skittering through your nerve endings. “I can feel how slick you are, you filthy little whore,” Jake commented, grunting as he rutted against you, coating himself in your natural lubricant. “Getting me all nice and wet. Gonna have to go slow, though. Don’t want to tear you.” You whimpered as he continued to lift your hips up and back, dragging your dripping cunt up the length of his cock, teasing you with his firm shaft but not yet putting it in.

You bit down on your gag and jerked in his grip, seeking more stimulation.

“Look at you, you needy little thing,” Jake chuckled, watching you with a derisive jeer. “Yeah, you need it, don’cha? Okay, here we go, then.” Carefully, Jake took his shaft and lined it up with your entrance, slowly easing his thick mushroom head into your channel. You whined as he began to push himself further inside, the stretch burning your inner muscles slightly and forcing all of the air out of your lungs. “Mawey, baby. Mawey. Daddy’s got’chu.” The Na’vi male adjusted your thighs around his lean waist and reached down between you, circling your clit as he continued sinking himself further into you, the inescapable pressure and the incredible feeling of absolute fullness making you let out a whine through the fabric in your mouth. Your inner walls keep tightening and loosening, as if your center didn’t know whether to allow Jake’s girth further inside or to try to push him back out of your body. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned through gritted teeth. “Le’me in, little girl. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”

You whined, his thumb still circling your clit as he finally, finally bottomed out.

Jake couldn’t quite fit his entire cock into your pussy, the tip of him pressed against your cervix in a way you weren’t entirely sure was painful or pleasurable. Either way, you felt so utterly stuffed you could barely breathe, breaths shuddering in and out of your nose in short bursts. The hand gripping your thigh was definitely going to leave bruises later as he reveled in the feel of your center stretched around him to your utter limit, his free hand still rubbing circles over your hard, little bud.

“Fuck, baby,” the Na’vi male groaned, shifting his hips to test how you felt now that you had started to adjust to his intrusion. “Tightest pussy Daddy’s ever had. Fuuuck, yer strangling my cock.” The noise that escaped your throat barely sounded human in pitch, more like it was an unintelligible fusion of a whine and a groan, muffled by the panties still in your mouth. He chuckled and added, “Pretty sure you were made for this. Huh? You were made to be my little cock slut, baby, right? Daddy’s little whore.” You whimpered and nodded slowly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you again. “Yeah, I thought so.” Then he sucked in a sharp breath and whistled. “Fuck, yeah, I can see myself in your belly.”

You looked down to see your stomach slightly distended to accommodate the total girth of his length and you released a wail.

“Isn’t that a sight,” Jake laughed quietly, hissings as you subsequently clenched internally. “Okay, okay, ya greedy little thing. Daddy’s gonna start moving now, little girl. Tell me if it hurts.” You made a muffled noise of complaint and tried to spit out the panties still forcing your jaw wide. “Ah, forgot about that,” the Na’vi male chuckled to himself and finally pulled the cloth out of your mouth, tossing them off to the side. “That better, little girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, moving your jaw to relieve the slight ache. “Oh, fuck, Sully. Feel so full.”

The male chuckled, “Yeah. Bet you do.”

Jake pulled out of your center a little before rolling his hips slowly back inside of you, glancing between your face and your belly bulge as you whined, feeling the friction of his textured shaft to cause the most exquisite of pleasure to tease your nerve endings, his heavy testicles bouncing off of your taint with each move of his hips. He slowly began to increase his pace, the sound of his thrusts squelching wetly through the air as he pounded his length deeply within you with the power and the consistency of a machine, causing that coil to tighten once more inside of you.

Without the gag hindering you now, you whined aloud, “Huh, fuck. Oh god.”

“Yeah, my little slut likes this,” Jake snarled, quickening his tempo further and growling low in his throat as your center tightened further around him. “Fuck, little girl, gonna cum for Daddy like a good whore? Gonna gush all over me when you climax? Bet you will, you greedy little cock slut. I want to see how your belly bulges further when I finish deep inside of you.” You whined nonsensically as his thrusts got sloppy as he sped up even further, the head of his cock pressing a spot that made your toes start to curl. “Oh, fuck, baby. I can feel you getting close. You’re even tighter around me. You ready, baby? Daddy’s gonna fill you up.”

You wanted to feel the pleasure but you didn’t want it.

Not like this at least.

The Na’vi male’s breathing increased as his rhythm stuttered further, slamming wetly into your depths even more loudly, his balls now smacking against your taint with each shove of his cock, pushing inside of your pussy even deeper until he shoved himself in firmly one last time, burying himself in to the hilt and –

“Ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck, yeah baby! Cumming. Cumming!”

If your first orgasm had been like getting hit by a bus, your second one was more like getting swept away by a tsunami, the pleasure-pain of Jake’s cock being wedged just beneath your cervix and pressing in from behind your bellybutton caused you to release a nonsensical throat-aching scream as well as you beginning to weep in humiliation from the heat overtaking your senses making you feel like you had peed yourself as the lush flow of your and Jake’s combined finish both bulged your stomach and dribbled steadily down your buttocks while every muscle within you spasmed almost violently and your toes curled painfully.

“Fuck, my little slut is a gusher,” Jake chuckled, groaning as he trembled in pleasure. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna keep you. You’ll do just nicely.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 24 November 2023 Word Count: 5,500

[kylagalaxyworld]

Shadows and Coffee Mugs -Part 9 (Out Now!)

Kage and Lucanis are back! This time, Lucanis and Spite save Kage after he's kidnapped by Venatori! Protective Lucanis and Spite inbound! Check it out on AO3 here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65888236

Enjoy and look out for a poll coming later on tonight! ;)

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

no ships/gen rating: teen and up (prev chapter and ao3 linked at bottom)

Chapter 9: The Variable

The few remaining Shinra staff, along with what security forces could still be mustered, were now gathered according to emergency protocols, in the deepest sub-basement level, which housed the arena and specimen containment, and most importantly, the evacuation tunnels.

Helmeted Shinra guards, looking very uneasy, patrolled the area, trying not to think too hard about the slavering masses of claws and fangs, in the paddocks all along the walls. Their commander wanted to evacuate the director, Professor Hojo, right away, but the old man would hear none of it, and they were engaged in a debate about it, at the moment.

“Our last communication from HQ confirmed that Shinra forces were inbound, to handle the situation,” the guard commander was saying. “We should evacuate now and rendezvous with them. They can protect you.”

Hojo gave a derisive snort. “Protect me? Don’t make me laugh. If Shinra want to pour their men into the meat grinder, what is that to me? I have experiments in progress that I will not have interrupted.”

“With all due respect, director, you can’t really think the asset is any match for several hundred highly-trained Shinra soldiers,” the commander said dubiously. “He’s a child.”

“Ha! If he can’t handle such a petty little thing, then he was a waste of the calories used up to raise him. If they can kill him, good riddance. I’ll haul his corpse down here and put his cells to better use.”

Just then, the rumble of an explosion shook the earth around them, rattling the light fixtures and causing dust and little bits of masonry to sprinkle down from the ceiling. The commander and other guards looked up, startled, and the staff and scientists gave exclamations of alarm.

“You were saying?” Hojo smirked.

The guard commander looked a bit green in the face. “That…could have been the Shinra reinforcements.”

“Then why don’t you and your men make yourselves useful, and escort the other personnel out of the building. As for the asset, let him come to me. I can control him.”

“But sir—”

“That’s an order, commander! Have you forgotten who’s in charge, here?!”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Uh, what about that one?” the commander asked, jerking his chin toward the upright dolly, on which Vincent was still restrained.

“Eh? Oh. He’s not personnel, he’s just another subject. Leave him.”

Waving the man away, Hojo turned his attention to the control panel he was tinkering with. While the guards rounded up the civilians and hurried them away, toward the emergency escape tunnel, Vincent was slumped against his restraints, staring blankly into the middle distance. He didn’t have to worry about what the old monster was going to do. He already knew.  

“I won’t kill him, for you,” he said, as Hojo brought out a syringe filled with a glowing, magenta-red substance and jammed it into his neck.

“But does he feel the same about you? We shall see,” Hojo replied, with a crafty leer.

Tossing the syringe away, he stepped back into the control room and pulled a lever, that made the heavy, steel blast door and shutters slam down, turning the room into a secure temporary shelter. These measures had been put in place in the case that any of the highly dangerous specimens regularly released into the arena got out of control. Perhaps not exactly as intended, they were now serving as the mad scientist’s insurance policy against his own creations turning on him.

“What say we add a few more variables to the experiment, eh?” Hojo said, his nasal voice echoing shrilly through the arena’s PA system.

Typing a command into the console, he triggered the override, that controlled the specimen paddocks. Alarm klaxons blared, as the heavy gates creaked slowly open, releasing the monstrosities inside. Sleek, black and red bloodhounds, densely muscular wrath hounds, and two-headed hellhounds, which were the most intelligent and dominant of the bunch.

They ventured out uncertainly, at first, then as more emerged, they began snarling and baying, jostling and snapping at one another. Suddenly, over the noise of the hounds, a man’s hoarse, wailing screams rose up, echoing in the cavernous, stone-walled space, as they warped and distorted, into the nightmarish howls of some horrific beast.

At once, the horde of huge, mutant canines cowered and whined, and went scrambling away, tails between their legs, like whipped curs. The evacuation tunnel was closed behind the retreating personnel, so the only way they could go was toward the archives and the other labs. The way the asset would be coming down.

The foe from which they fled was a gigantic, bipedal creature, more leonine than a canid, with demonic red horns and a long, black mane, almost like a person’s hair. Its hideous, sinuous hide, was covered in strange metallic embellishments. Its hind and foreclaws were golden and hooked like scythes, and its dragon-like tail was covered in gold spikes, with a battleaxe at the very end, though it was not clear whether it was clad in some kind of armor, or if those were features of its natural hide and bone.

It stood to its full height and let out a deafening roar, which shook the walls and rattled the light fixtures. Far away, down the corridor they’d escaped into, the mutant hounds yelped and sped their steps…only to find themselves caught suddenly, between Scylla and Charybdis.

From the other direction, came a horror unlike any they’d ever known. Their legs shook and they lowered their heads. It was a creature of an ancient and evil will, so potent it blinded their eyes and rendered them senseless and sick with dread. In its hand it held a long blade, that appeared to be forged from the frozen light of stars.

Whimpering like newborn pups, Shinra’s bloody-mawed guard beasts cowered and crawled on their bellies, some pissing themselves in terror, as Sephiroth walked leisurely past them, not even bothering to cast a glance at the pathetic things.

Hojo’s deranged laughter crackled through the room’s PA system, as Sephiroth stepped into the cavernous arena, black boots ringing out sharply on the stone floor. The old man was visible in the control room, through the bulletproof glass and the open slats in the blast shutters.

“I see you’ve been amusing yourself, boy,” he sneered. “I hope you didn’t embarrass me, playing around with that cannon fodder Shinra sent.”

“The soldiers are dead and the manor is destroyed,” Sephiroth answered flatly. “I also burned the secret archives, along with your laboratory, and all the remaining samples from ‘Project S’.”

Hojo gave a growl of anger, then waved it away. “Well. Nevermind all that. I trust you got what you wanted from your tantrum? Relieved your feelings, have you? And all it cost was several hundred human lives. Such a perfect little monster.”

“You would know.”

Just as Sephiroth said this, there was a blur of motion in the corner of his eye, as a massive, hideous beast sprung from the shadows and leapt at him, with a bloodthirsty roar from its slavering maw, ten-inch fangs bared to rend flesh and bone.

Slit pupils contracted in blue-green eyes. Sephiroth’s body seemed to flicker in place. There was a flash of cold light, and the next second, the titanic beast was tumbling backward across the arena. Its huge claws hooked into the concrete floor, cutting long gashes as it skidded to a stop.

Unfurling his black wing again, Sephiroth rose into the air and spread his arms wide, holding Masamune angled slightly downward toward the floor. An arrogant gesture of challenge, that made Hojo cackle with laughter, through the speakers.

The beast snarled and bounded forward again, like a shot from a cannon, with terrifying speed and agility for a thing of such tremendous bulk, dodging left and right as Masamune’s sword light slashed at it from all directions.

Golden claws missed Sephiroth’s wing by a hair’s breadth, as he evaded to the left, but the slash was only a feint. Using the momentum of its swing, the creature brought its armored tail swinging around in a deadly arc, the huge battleaxe aimed to cleave Sephiroth’s head.  

Masamune came up just in time to block the attack, the blades throwing sparks as they collided. Sephiroth was forced out of the air, by the sheer weight of the blow. The thing came down on top of him, attempting to crush him with its huge body, but he rolled out of the way and leapt back to his feet, throwing a fusillade of fireballs as he did so. They struck the beast all over its torso and face, in explosions of golden sparks, making it roar and thrash, but not doing any real damage.

To Sephiroth’s surprise, it threw back a blast of crimson fire, about twenty times the size of his little distraction flares, which he was forced to leap into the air to evade.

“Best watch yourself, boy,” Hojo advised gleefully. “Even an old dog still has a few tricks up its sleeve.”

Sephiroth had no idea why he’d call this thing a dog, being that it was clearly some kind of lion-like creature, but he didn’t particularly care. At the moment, he was busy dodging the massive chunks of masonry the thing was now tearing up from the arena floor and hurling at him. They smashed into the paddocks and destroyed guard railings, and one even exploded against the control room’s blast shutters, interrupting Hojo’s maniacal laughter, as he gave a startled cry.

When there was a pause in the beast’s assault (because it was catching its breath, of all things), Sephiroth held out a hand palm upward and raised it, like he was lifting something. As he did, all the gigantic hunks of concrete and rebar that the beast had thrown rose into the air.

Sephiroth smiled. With a flick of his wrist, several tons of masonry went flying back at the beast, like an artillery barrage.

Having no way to evade, it ducked and crossed its arms to block what it could, as its huge body was struck hard and heavily, battered and buffeted about by exploding missiles of concrete and stone.

It withstood much of the attack by virtue of its sheer size and toughness, but there were deep, bleeding gouges in its arms and legs, from the twisted spikes of rebar, that had been sticking out of the concrete blocks.

Pleased with the results, Sephiroth dismissed Masamune and raised both hands this time, ripping massive sections of concrete out of the floor on his side, and sending them raining down on the beast like a hailstorm from hell.

Enraged, the beast reared up to its full height, of nearly fourteen feet, threw its head back, and let out a thunderous roar, unleashing an explosion of what looked like tentacles made of crimson fire, which deflected all the incoming debris and sent it all exploding outward, in addition to knocking Sephiroth back a few feet.

In the split-second that the boy was righting himself, the beast made a tremendous, arcing leap through the air, smashed into him like a freight train, and slammed him to the ground, coming down on top of him with all its weight, which must have been several thousand pounds.

Sephiroth lay there stunned, with the wind knocked out of him, for long enough for the beast to slash at him, slicing long, bloody gashes across his chest and his face, from the right side of his forehead, to his jaw on the left, exposing bone in places. Blood ran into his eyes and blinded him temporarily.

Ignoring the shooting pains in his definitely cracked ribs, he pulled up his knees and kicked the creature hard, with both legs. It flew back and staggered to a stop, before mastering its momentum and charging back toward him. But that had given Sephiroth the few seconds he needed to clear his eyes and regain his bearings. The hideous slashes across his face and chest were already knitting themselves closed, at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Gathering dense masses of shadow in both hands, he stood his ground, planting his feet wide apart, and let the beast come. At the last possible millisecond, he raised his palms, throwing up a black, convex shield of whirling shadows, and the two combatants collided like a sonic boom.

The black energy Sephiroth had used as a shield, reacted with the fire energy the beast had thrown into its attack, and set off a devastating explosion. Both were thrown backward in the blast. The bulletproof window on the control room exploded, pelting Hojo with flying glass. Pillars crumbled and scaffolding came crashing down. Sections of the ceiling collapsed and huge boulders smashed down from above.

Sephiroth threw a sedan-sized concrete slab off himself, and leapt up. Hojo dragged himself to his feet in the control room, pushing his now cracked spectacles up, and brushing the glass off his clothing.

“I see you’ve got a few surprises in you, too, boy!” he crowed, through the few, crackling speakers that had survived. “Here I thought you’d only disappoint me, like usual.”

Sephiroth ignored him and summoned Masamune. Stalking toward the place where he saw the beast fall, he used a telekinetic blast to throw the pile of rocks and rubble away. What he uncovered, however, was not the hulking form of the beast, but a much smaller heap of what appeared to be crimson fabric.

Sephiroth stood at bay, Masamune’s razor-sharp tip trained on it, as the figure stirred. There was a wheezing cough, and it turned laboriously onto its back.

Vincent’s eyes blinked heavily open. One was dark crimson, as usual, but the other had a ring of gold in it, glowing so brightly now, it almost swallowed the red entirely. His beautiful face was smudged with dirt, and black blood trickled from his nose and between his ashen lips. Under the tattered, dust covered leather armor, his chest rose and fell weakly, with his wet, sucking breaths.

“Seph,” he choked out, causing more inky blood to bubble up and pour down his porcelain cheek. “Run…run away. Get out of here, while you c—while you can.”

“Ah, what a touching reunion,” Hojo crooned. “The boy and his guard dog, back together. But, don’t tell me you caused all this trouble, just because of your delusional attachment to this creature. Tsk, tsk. How very childish.”

“Silence, old devil!” Sephiroth thundered, in a super-resonant voice, that far overpowered the amplified one from the PA system. “This is all your doing! You intentionally pushed me to the breaking point! You instigated my rebellion against Shinra and lured me here to fight him!”

“Hahaha! Not as stupid as he looks!” Hojo chortled, frank and unapologetic about his cruelty, as always. “What better way to test your capabilities? How you perform in real combat, when in extreme emotional distress, is the only reliable way to judge how weak you really are, at your worst. You should thank me, you lazy brat. Now that you’ve shown Shinra what you can do, they’ll be bending over backward to accommodate you, when you go to take command of the other members of the SOLDIER program. More importantly, all my years of work will finally be recognized and duly rewarded.”

“Are you insane?” Sephiroth demanded. “I destroyed the manor and killed more than a hundred Shinra troops. Why would they—” He broke off and his expression changed to one of disgust. “I see. It was their plan, all along. They sacrificed all those people, just to test my abilities. This was all a show, for the ones in charge.”

“And one well worth the price of admittance,” Hojo casually confirmed. “What are a few hundred replaceable staff and an old building, compared to their most valuable asset?”

“After all you’ve done to me. All the torture, all the lies, all the inhuman experimentation, at your hands…what makes you think I’ll cooperate? Why wouldn’t I just kill you, now?”

“Because, I am the only person who knows where your mother is.”

“My mother died.” Sephiroth pulled the locket out from under the collar of his uniform, where he always wore it, and held it up. “You told me she died, after I was born! You gave me her picture!”

“Yes, well. Turns out she’s not quite as dead as I believed, when I told you that. I only recently discovered her whereabouts. She’s quite close by, in fact. If you behave yourself, like a good boy, I’ll take you to see her.”

“You’re lying,” Sephiroth faltered. “If she was close by, she’d have come to find me. She would never have left me all alone, to be tormented by you people!”

“I suppose I could be lying, but what reason would I have to do that?” Hojo shrugged. As he did, he pressed the button to raise the blast door, and came out of the control room, as if making a gesture of sincerity, by abandoning his defensive position. “Besides, are you really willing to take that chance? Are you really willing to risk your one chance to see her, after all these years?”

“Tell me where my mother is!” Sephiroth roared, pointing the tip of the long sword at him. “Tell me, right now!”

“Temper, temper. You really must work on controlling your emotions. I will be happy to take you to your mother. In exchange for one thing.”

Sephiroth gritted his teeth. “Well? What is it?”

Hojo stepped forward with a malevolent grin, pushing his spectacles up, which made the cracked lens glitter in the amber emergency light. “Nothing much. I just want you to kill an old dog, that’s outlived its usefulness.”

“Seph, go. Go, before it’s too late,” Vincent rasped, trying to struggle to a sitting position.

Masamune flashed back around and stopped within centimeters of his face, but Sephiroth was still looking up at Hojo. “What are you talking about? What dog?”

“That dog,” Hojo said, pointing a gnarled finger. “Kill Vincent Valentine, and I will take you to your mother.”

The blade wavered, and was drawn back from Vincent’s face. “No, I…I can’t. I won’t.”

“Clock’s ticking, boy. It’s time to choose. This dead dog, a failed experiment, whose life isn’t worth half a breath of yours? Or your dear mother, from whom you’ve been separated your entire life, and who has been longing for you, all these years. Longing to see her little baby.”

Masamune shook in Sephiroth’s usually rock-steady hand. The other was clenching and unclenching spasmodically by his side. The voices of his future selves were raging, in his head, suddenly in conflict with one another. One of them was stronger than the others, and was causing the discord. Many of them fell into line with that voice, and joined it in urging Sephiroth on.

Kill Vincent.

He is the variable. 

Kill him. 

Kill him now, and rewrite destiny. 

The others still disagreed, and tried to shout down the larger party, only adding to the confusion and chaos. Sephiroth clutched his forehead with his free hand, squeezing his eyes shut, against the dizziness, caused by their cacophonous argument.

Then, very gently and quietly, below all the other noise, he heard the voice of his older version, from eleven years in the future. It spoke only three words, but that was enough.

Eyes clear and cold, and glowing brilliant green, Sephiroth looked up at Hojo, raising Masamune again. Then, with a single, lightning-quick flash of silver, he thrust the gleaming blade into Vincent’s heart.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY hojo: i totally know where your mother is and she's not even a dismembered deadass alien in a fishtank so don't even trip   THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING ELSE TO SAY i listened to one-winged angel while i wrote the whole fight scene it was very inspiring and hilarious THEY FUCKING CHANT SEPHIROTH 💀

prev chapter

[ct7567scyarika]

Dreams

Summary: In a rare moment, Captain Rex gets to enjoy some peace during the chaos of the war after a mission. Brief Rest, Relaxation, and Reflection with the woman he loves.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Mando OC, Pyrrha Eskel (established relationship)

Warnings: None

Ao3 link

Also not me copying @agirlunderarock format of posting stories on here. Anyway, this story was based on my commission from @agingerpanda! I still cannot get over how beautiful they look, and the background??? SO PRETTY?

Strokes of gentle maya and aureolin painted the partially clouded sky, silhouetting the distant mountaintop’s arching curve. A light fog blanketed the floor but could not shield the low gusts of wind that rippled through the tall grass like inbound waves. The ends of the dark green blades crashed against legs clad in dirty white armor. As Rex stood in the open field he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep inhale as the breeze blew on his face. The clean air was refreshing albeit a little chilling due to the morning mist.

A light clink sounded as something brushed his left arm. He partially opened an eye, his brown hue meeting the welcoming warmth of her bright blue gaze. His body relaxed and gravitated in her direction. The golden beskar that Pyrrha wore could not even compete with the gleaming smile she mirrored from him.

Stars, she was as beautiful as the early sunrise before them.

Rex lifted his hand from his hip to rest around the devoted bounty hunter’s waist, drawing her close to him, their armor clattered on impact. Her arms wrapped around his side with a squeeze then transitioned into a relaxed hold. He nuzzled against her temple before pressing a kiss there, his smile growing at her short hum. He felt her lean even closer to him. He missed being able to hold her without their armor getup on as they had done only half an hour ago. However, he was comfortable. His eyes slid shut.

“So ner golden alor’ad ,” she addressed in gentle Mando’a “can we just go back to sleep?”

“Mm, we’re already up and also stayed a night longer than we should have, ner cyar’ika ..” he spoke quietly against her temple, beginning to slowly sway with her.

“An action I advised as someone experienced in this type of mission; or, that’s what I wrote for the report.”

“Oh? How will you justify that?”

“Easy. We needed to lay low for at least the night so it would be less suspicious,” she turned her head to place the side of her face on his shoulder. “All while not wasting too much time.”

“Wouldn’t going back to bed be, as you will debrief, wasting more time?” he raised a brow in amusement.

“Well, I wasn’t going to clock the exact time we headed out. If push comes to shove, I could always say my ship ran into troubles on the way back.”

He stopped their swaying opened his eyes. “Lie on a report?”

“Wouldn’t be a lie if I said we ran into Hondo and I had him meet us on the way back.”

“You think that pirate would cover for you?”

“Hey, he knows I have the credits to bribe him… and the means to hurt him if I threaten him.”

Rex smirked and shook his head while she giggled. “Pyres,” he exhaled, “getting that pirate involved seems to be a lot of effort just to get a few more minutes more sleep.”

“See, I was aiming for a couple more hours. This mission was exhausting.”

“Yeah, it was, but I don’t think it will compare to the burnout that surely will follow from stringing Ohnaka along.”

Pyrrha laughed, a delightful sound he would always cherish during these dark days. “You’re not wrong, love. Although, I don’t believe it would be nearly as tiring as our last undercover mission with just the two of us.”

“Mm, the mission where you mostly had fun throwing me under the transport.”

“Well, that had been our first time working together alone, and you betrayed me, remember?” She released one arm from his side to place the back of her hand against her forehead, her body slouched against him. “My fiance hiding the truth that he was one of the Republic soldiers that had occupied my totally-not-made-up home planet!” 

He shifted his other arm to catch her from falling to the floor. “And you let that Seppie with his clankers take me!” Was his obviously feigned complaint. His heart nearly melted from the way she looked up at him, a goofy grin on her face.

“It was only, like,” her fingers wiggled before showcasing the proper number “four of them and I got you back once I was given the information we were looking for.” Rex sighed and chuckled, though hindsight made it easier to laugh about that case now. 

Pyrrha set her foot on the floor and Rex aided in easing her back onto her feet, his hands resting on her sides again. She turned her body to face him, hands laid on his armored chest. He reached and brushed the dark brown wavy locks from her face, her very fair complexion dusted a soft red. He kept his hand on her cheek, a little irked at how his glove hindered him from being able to feel her skin. She leaned forward and he copied, their foreheads pressing against each other. She gave an extra little push, a small declaration of her love. What began as a keldabe kiss during missions at the start of their relationship expanded into happening without their helmets. He pushed back in response with a short hum. With his body so comfortable against Pyrrha, the idea of returning to sleep with her in his arms grew more and more tempting. 

He opened his eyes partially, seeing she was doing the same. A quiet, short inhale through his nose as her smile softened and she had that starry-eyes look. He knew what she was thinking, what she wanted.

He wanted it too. 

He leaned forward, his heart raced and he felt rapid fluttering in his stomach. This wasn’t the first time they were doing this, yet he still felt just as giddy as he did then. The breeze that could reach him attempted to cool his heated cheeks. She followed his lead and closed the gap between them.

His eyes were closed as his mind was fixated on how softly this Mandalorian’s lips pressed against his, yet she was firm enough to assure him that she wasn’t parting any time soon. Her hands on his chest shifted slowly, one to wrap around his waist while the other slid up to cradle the back of his neck. The warmth in his chest spread while his hand on her cheek pulled her closer. In his life, he had been grateful to survive each battle, but he had never felt so alive as he did when he was with her. Alive and incredibly loved, the galaxy stood still for just the two of them. He wanted to share such feelings with Pyrrha and wanted her to feel just as loved. He wanted to convey all the feelings that he couldn’t quite put into words through the kisses they shared. Time didn’t exist in these moments, he had no idea how long this tender kiss lasted. Not long enough. He stole a quick kiss after they had begun to depart and he smiled widely when she giggled in response. They both glanced down bashfully.  

Stars above, he wanted to hold her even closer but the armor was in the way. He looked back at her while her head was still turned shily away, so he leaned to nuzzle her temple, then lowered to rest his head where her neck and shoulder met, nestling into her scarlet scarf. He could feel the tips of her fingers combing through the ends of his blond hair, the small ringlets were growing back in. He didn’t keep his hair as closely shaven as he used to because of this exact reason. 

His eyelids felt heavier as he opened them a little, an attempt to remain awake while not moving from the embrace. He looked at the scenery before him that was now basked in the morning’s glow. It wasn’t very often he got to come to a planet without it having some mark from the war on it. Right now, the only footprints of the war had been discreetly left by himself and Pyrrha, although his print had a stronger impression of the ongoing conflict due to his direct link to it. He and his brothers trailed a path of destruction. They were made to be weapons for this exact purpose. The natural beauty of a planet was often lost in the smoke and debris. Swift attacks that would take generations to heal… if ever.

He frowned and eyes shut once more, concentrating on her silent breaths. Every one she gave was a gift that he never wanted to take for granted. 

Which was why he was also back to focusing on his surroundings. One could never know when an enemy would attempt to ambush you in such a vulnerable position. He tightened his hold on her a bit.

Outside of their synchronized breathing, it was silent. Rex wasn’t used to the quiet after a mission, at least like this. Usually what followed were the sounds of troops moving and thunderous rumbles of heavy combat vehicles rolling through the remains, which then led to the hum of being on a Jedi cruiser and all the background noises that came with that environment. And still, after all that, they would return to the busy city of Coruscant. It was never serene. Eerie silence he was very familiar with, but… relaxed? 

Well, there was only one place he ever felt that, and, as much as he loved his brothers, it wasn’t the barracks. It was down, down in the dirty lower levels of the city in a small apartment. Pyres’ apartment; no. 

“Our home ,” she had said many months ago with a smile. “You live here too. It’s your home as much as it is mine. You’re my husband, we’re a family. ”

A family. 

He exhaled. For most of his life, he had never imagined having a family outside of the one with his brothers. He didn’t think he’d get this far, one could never be sure. There was also how Kaminoans made sure to sell him and his brothers more as property than people. Finding love and someone wanting to spend their life with you was not something he believed had been in the cards for him. He was going to be outlived either by the war or his age acceleration, so being romantically involved seemed to do more harm. But yet here was Pyres.

He froze for a moment as the silence was broken by the sweetest sounds he knew. Pyrrha sang in a hushed but clear tone, a song that was familiar to him. A tune she created and sang whenever she was stupendously happy. A song she wrote about him that she shared with him the night of their wedding, one that only they shared with each other. Their secret song.

He smiled. Yes, here was Pyres. His mesh’la, kotyc, nuh’la riduur . Beautiful, strong, funny wife. Here she was as always, dedicated and never hesitated to aid him when he needed her the most; nor was she hesitant to shower him with affection. If he called, she always dropped everything to get to him as quickly as possible. She always called him her brightest star in space’s endless dark, empty voids. Her lifesaver. Yet she gave him a future to look forward to, a new meaning to his life that was beyond fighting. They gave each other hope, to become more than what they had been shaped to be now. They had plans for after the war. A home on Alderaan where they could be far away from painful memories. To lay down their weapons, live in peace, and hopefully grow their little family. His heart raced again at the idea, a future he held tightly to. He knew following this war when they won would be a matter of clones finding a place in the galaxy. He knew his place and would fight for it.

As for now, he could wait. There was plenty of time they’d spend in battle. For now, he wanted to enjoy the minutes they had left alone. He lifted his head, their gaze reuniting as she continued into the end of their song. Although he wanted to hum with her, he did not want to interrupt. Her voice was soft and soothing, lulling him to quietly rest with her. He watched her with a smile and she tilted her head. Her hand moved from the back of his neck and skin brushed over the side of his face, his body reacting with a shiver. His blinks slowed as he nuzzled her hand and cradled her wrist. He planted a soft kiss in her palm, then to the inside of her wrist, smiling as she giggled. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, his hold tightened slightly when she whispered: 

“Sing with me, please?” Had those Force meditation sessions with Kenobi made her able to sense his hesitation? Well, persuasion was not a Force skill she needed to learn, for as soon as she asked, he nodded and joined her in the song. He shifted his hand from her wrist to hold her hand, brought her closer to him, and began to sway with her in a slow dance. The wet blades of grass rustled against their movements, the light of the sun highlighted their figures and gave their armor an extra gleam. Although the light fog had lifted, the wind continued and strands of Pyres’ hair blew against her face, laughter occasionally breaking her part of the duet.

Rex sank in every moment, noticing every detail so he could revisit this memory in the days to come. He knew Pyres would take a holoimage of them shortly, however, he wanted more than visuals. He wanted to easily recall all the sensations he felt, such as how the weather was a perfect blend of cool and warm, the smell of the wildflowers, the sounds of the duo’s voices softly fading to an end. What he wanted to remember the most was how he felt when he ran his fingers through her hair to cup her face and they leaned in for another kiss, giving into the hunger for more. His eyes opened for a moment as he moved away for a split second, allowing just enough time to partially open his mouth before diving back in for another, deeper kiss. Her lips moved against his as both inhaled through their noses in an attempt to prolong the intoxicating exchange.

If there was anything certain in this galaxy, it was that Rex loved her. He loved her so, so much and he knew she returned the feelings. Each and every single rotation in all the galaxies she would choose him, and he would always choose her. She gave him her love, she gave him the galaxy, and all he could offer was his heart. 

“ It’s enough ,” she had replied when he told her this months ago. With dreamy, glazed eyes and a warm smile, she had continued. “ More than that, more than any treasure in existence. I am lucky to have you; you are more than enough. ”

“ You are as well ,” he had answered and noticed how her hold on him tightened. “ You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. ”

“ The best for each other? ” “ Forever. In the best of ways. ”

[treenissanderssidesstuff]

Dumb Bitchitis

Summary:

Virgil and Remy sleep together and it takes Virgil a long time to get over it. He starts dating this cute guy named Emile who couldn’t be further from his old flame, thinking that this guy would be safe to open up to after it all.

Notes:

Cause I’ve got dumb bitchitis I might even be a side chick You take five hours, I reply quick   — Dumb Bitchitis by yung cxreal

Ship: RemyxEmilexVirgil

Ao3 Link

Next

Chapter 1: Fuck Feelings

The only light illuminating the room was the cold blue light of a phone bouncing off of Virgil’s pale skin as it faded outward into the encompassing darkness of the otherwise night cast room. He was laying on his hip, chin propped up in his palm with an elbow digging into the mattress while bouncing between three or four apps on his phone as he looked for some kind of distraction before his mind slipped into self-deprecation and blame. The only other movement in the room was a chest slowly rising and falling beside him and Virgil watched it from the corner of his eye as it was vaguely illuminated by the blue cascade dispersing from his crappy phone screen.

When would he fucking learn?

One fucking text message and he was at it again. He wasn’t even sure what prompted him to answer the sudden incoming text message from “Tall, Dark, and Dickish.” Virgil knew exactly what he was getting into when he answered the sudden “Hey” with a similarly vague “Sup?” Before he knew it, Virgil was getting into a familiar black car that he knew, but only as Remy’s car—he’d never been a car person, beyond color and general shape, they all looked the fucking same—that was inbound on an equally familiar route. They stopped at an apartment that he’d absolutely been to before and as good as the sex was, it never made up for how much he felt like shit afterwards in the quiet of it all. 

Virgil could see Remy asleep on his back, paying no mind to him, even with the little movements as he snoozed. No, Virgil had done his job and he’d known it. Honestly, he’d half expected Remy to have turned away from him by now and simply lay there, sleeping—for real or not—until Virgil left of his own accord.

There was just one thing… Remy was still on his back. It would be so easy for Virgil to just scoot in a little closer, nestle into the crook of his arm. Lanky and small, Virgil didn’t take up much room compared to the other man who dwarfed him by nearly a foot. Chances are that it would hardly disturb him, if at all. Virgil could just slip into that little space between Remy’s arm and hip, nestle in, and pretend he belonged there for a quiet hour in the early morning before he was inevitably sent on his way again. It was damn tempting. 

Nibbling on the inside of his lip, Virgil caved after a moment and shifted up to his knees, crawling on all fours to shift about a foot across the expanse of the bed. He was careful about making his way over the top of Remy’s arm, doing his best not to shift it as he nuzzled into the promised land of being cradled the way he desired. 

For a beautiful moment, he thought it worked. 

“What are you doing?” a quiet, pointed voice asked him, still heavy with sex and sleep. Beneath messy bangs, he could see dark eyes pointed in his direction with a laser-focus that made him squirm in place. 

“N-noth…” Virgil started, swallowing as he tried to push down the bile that had begun to creep up his throat alongside his panic. “Nothing,” he said, steadier, but no less panicked with him frozen in place. “I just… wanted to get cl-closer.”

Remy stared at him for a long moment, before extracting his arm from around Virgil’s back. “Don’t,” Remy said as he pushed to sit up. He didn’t even bother to look away as he bluntly told him, “You’re not really relationship material, Virgil.”

It had been five years. 

Virgil wasn’t sure why his mind was lingering on ancient history this morning as he sipped his tea in a coffee shop that felt frozen in time, sending him back to sitting at the same table during exam week as he tried to cram in another chapter’s worth of knowledge. Maybe it was the place, the fact that he was back in this little college town again, the hellhole he’d gotten away from with his graduation. Ending up here again half a decade never part of the plan; no, he’d gotten out of dodge at the first opportunity with a desk job. Data Entry. It was easy and mindless stuff where he could make up the difference and build his portfolio during evenings and weekends in hopes to land a graphic design role somewhere. He’d been trying at it for just as long and hadn’t really gotten anywhere, until he suddenly received a call, he hadn’t expected regarding an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. 

With single determination and a lot of dumb luck, one of his roommates had made it big in the game industry with an indie title after they’d graduated. After the hours spent pouring tirelessly over the game, wasting away years of his life trying to do every part of it himself, Remus started making calls for a bigger team for the sequel and Virgil had been at the top of the list. He’d wanted Virgil there first to take things all the way from storyboarding to in-game art and design. 

Who was he to turn down that kind of opportunity?

Five years and it was like a time portal, the counter hadn’t changed, the smell of coffee and the goldie slopping away at the bowl on the floor was a familiar sight in a community where dogs were usually served before a line of customers. Honestly, Virgil was pretty sure that if the freshman at the counter could swing it, she’d close the shop to everyone but dogs with the way the girl was doting over him. 

It wasn’t a surprise to hear another cooing voice enter the scene along with the sound of a bell as the front glass door swung open. Normally that wouldn’t have been enough to draw Virgil’s eyes beyond the normal, cursory, anxiety-driven glance at the new person that had entered Virgil’s general area, but broad shoulders and a bright toothy smile pulled his eyes for a prolonged look. Their hair was pulled back and neat, pink framed glasses sat on the bridge of their nose that only drew his attention in a bit more of just how pretty the person was in front of them with wide, bright eyes behind those lenses.

He wasn’t expecting rich sepia irises to catch him in his stare. Virgil ducked a little further into his hoodie, shrugging further into the fabric as a wink was aimed in his direction. Sure, that his cheeks matched the color of their glasses, he did his best to disappear into the corner of the sweet shop as the other person turned around to order. It was only too bad that the shop was too small for either of the two to be truly out of sight of the other. 

“I’ll take a large, iced vanilla latte, a medium hot chocolate, and… what pastries do you have today?” He heard them ask. Their voice was more chipper than he would have expected just looking at them, but with their upbeat aura and shoulders up like they were both willing and able to distribute hugs at any given moment, it helped complete the picture of a jigsawed savior complex. 

“Of course!” the cashier replied, queuing in the items to the register with a few clicks of her hand. “The eclairs are fresh, and the croissants should be out of the oven in just a couple minutes.”

“That sounds lovely,” they replied, looking far too joyful and sweet, even for a place like this, as if they should be stashed in the display alongside the other sugary confections. “One of the croissants when they’re ready and I’ll take two of the eclairs, thank you, ma’am.”

“Can I have a name for the order?” The cashier asked, and Virgil’s ears perked up even as he tried to make a point not to pay attention. His mind and ears were in some kind of standoff as he stared down at his chai and kept listening in spite of himself. 

“Just use Emile,” they said cheerfully, moving even closer as they shuffled to the delivery counter to wait on their order.

Virgil continued to watch them in his peripheral, making a point not to stare directly lest he draw attention to himself. Surely, they would only be a few more minutes, and then he could start breathing again. He figured they would start fiddling on their phone or something the way most people did, but instead Virgil saw them pull something out of their pocket. It looked as if they were scrawling out some kind of note, just in time for their order to arrive in front of them. 

Emile, as they told the cashier, smiled at the worker just as brightly as they had when they first entered, even as they reached for their items. It seemed that the drinks were easy enough, but adding the bag of goodies, along with whatever else it was the person had in their hand overburdened them slightly as they tried to balance everything in their grip while glancing forward at the door, as if they were plotting for it. 

Though he wasn’t really certain what prompted him to do it, but without a word, Virgil stood and pushed it open before they had to figure out how to juggle everything and the door atop of it. 

Whatever berating was pestering him from the back of his mind about being both nosy and perceived, melted when that stranger’s smile was aimed in his direction. It left him feeling rich and warm, like whip topped coffee as the cream started to melt into the otherwise bitter drink. 

“Thank you,” they said, their honey-rich voice sticky enough to catch his ears again as they gave him a polite nod, moving towards him and the open door. 

“N-no problem,” Virgil said, low and mumbled into his hoodie, but he thought they heard it anyway as their expression seemed to only grow warmer, something about the way their eyes crinkled at him, like they were sharing a mutual secret.

As they slid past, it was definitely only the tight fit that had them brushing against him as they made their way through the doorway. He held out a hand for them to balance on if they needed it down the entrance step, but instead he felt something placed into his palm as they gave him a little wiggly wave of their fingers, another wink, and that pretty grin before they turned and made their way down the cobble street. 

For a moment Virgil was frozen, trying to figure out just what happened, but when he finally tore his gaze away from their retreating, distant form he blinked and looked down to see a pastry in his hand, a fresh eclair with something sticking out of the side of the wrapper. It was a pale pink info card with a QR code on one side and contact information on the other. 

What caught his attention even more though was the messy, handwritten scrawl at the top of one side that just said. 

“Want to do brunch?”

“-it’s just a shame how quickly they had to wrap up the show with all the controversy. I think they could have gotten another couple of seasons out of it if they had really started to dive into-”

Chin in his hand and elbow on the table, Virgil was certain that he could keep listening to Emile explain their opinions on their favorite cartoons for hours and never grow bored of the conversation. They had a passion about their arguments, and he found himself easily agreeing with many of their points. Though, the rare disagreement had been even more fun as the two then were able to parse their thoughts out and debate back and forth with different perspectives until they reached some midpoint conclusion. 

“It would have been nice to see them go a little deeper into some of the character’s trauma,” Virgil agreed. “It would have validated Lapis’ journey and even Bismuth as a character overall.”

“Exactly,” Emile agreed, waving an arm in his direction in a way he knew he’d said something particularly right. “It’s just disappointing that the network was too cowardly to keep exploring some of those deeper themes and showed their hand by canceling the show when it came to displaying a bit of queer representation.”

“Bury your gays?” Virgil asked, though rather than it being a thematic character trend, it was literally the show being stomped to a close IRL.

“Unfortunately,” they agreed solemnly. “Still, I’m glad the creators took the stand they did, it opened new doors.”

Virgil didn’t say anything in response, just staring for an extended moment. He could feel a smile tugging on the edge of his lips as he watched them, certain that he must have had a dopey, doe-eyed, love-struck look on his face again. They were incredible. 

“What?” Emile asked, blinking at him, a nervous smile coming to their face as they looked back. “Do I have something on my face?”

Virgil shook his head as they started to pat around their cheeks, looking for some missed morsel of something or other.

“You’re amazing,” Virgil said after shaking his head.

Their mouth opened, then closed again, burying it in their hands. “How are you this sweet?” they asked, looking up at him with helplessness in their expression when they knew he meant every word. Of course, he did. 

They were both taking a chance on each other. Virgil was taking a chance on a relationship at all after the series of flings he’d been through. It was easier when there were no feelings involved and the last time that he’d gotten attached in any real capacity… it didn’t end well for him. From what he gathered from Emile; they were taking a chance on another relationship. He knew he wasn’t their only one, they’d had a long-term partner who they’d known since they were both kids. Though it sounded as if they only truly started a romantic relationship in the last few years, as far as he could tell the two had been mutually pining for the other one for decades before then. It was honestly sweet as hell and exactly the kind of situationship that Virgil could imagine Emile getting themselves into completely by accident.

Though Virgil only knew the gist of the situation, he didn’t even know the other partner’s name yet. Emile had been quick to reveal that they were poly and Virgil was quick to agree. He wasn’t looking to be the center of their world, just a moon orbiting their space, a partnership. In truth, it took off some of the pressure that came with perfectionism, the idea of being everything that someone needed was kinda a terrifying prospect, really. 

So no, he didn’t mind sharing. 

He couldn’t say the other relationship didn’t have an impact, Emile talked about it sometimes, even though thus far, they’d kept names out of the conversation as they were both gauging how seriously their relationship was progressing.

“You’re the sweet one,” Virgil insisted, “or were you not the one that refused to give up on that fair game until you won me a prize?”

“I did it, didn’t I?” Emile asked, sticking out a tongue, still giggling around it as they did. 

“Mothfrog and I thank you for it,” Virgil said, their laughter was contagious, “but even you have to admit you were terrible at that ring toss.”

“And you have to admit that it was rigged,” they countered.

Honestly with the amount they spent on new rounds, they probably could have just found the plush online for cheaper, but Emile insisted they wouldn’t be leaving the fairgrounds without the stuffie, simply because it had caught Virgil’s eye for a double take. But really, who could resist a mothman frog?

The laughing kept on for a moment as they both caught their breath and there were mutual smiles between them, that hadn’t quite faded when Emile turned to him with something serious coming over their face. There was hesitance that made his own smile faulter as he wondered just what could have suddenly gone wrong. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Emile asked. 

“That depends, are you breaking up with me?” Virgil asked. Their eyes widened in panic, like they hadn’t expected that answer and he hoped that meant it wasn’t what they wanted to do. “Because if so, is it okay if I say no?”

“No!” Emile said quickly, holding up a hand, “w-wait no, yes, I mean-” 

They held up both hands, as if asking for both mercy and a slowdown. “Please listen.”

Virgil nodded, even as anxiety started to knot in his stomach, at least it didn’t sound like they were trying to suddenly leave him on the roadside like an unwanted house cat that had gotten too needy. 

“You know I’m in another relationship, right?” Emile asked, waiting for Virgil to nod. 

He did immediately because of course he knew, it came up in conversation between them on their very first date together. 

“I was wondering if the three of us could maybe go out somewhere as… friends maybe?” They said, casting pouty eyes in his direction that made Virgil realize that he’d never be able to deny them anything. “It’d be nice to know that my partners at least get along amicably.”

Virgil thought about it a moment, he and Emile had mostly been going on outings together, it’d felt just as much of dates as any other actual relationship he’d had in the past, but even he could admit that it would be nice to be able to swing by their place without a sense of awkwardness of some random stranger being there that could potentially end his and Emile’s entire relationship if he disapproved. Truthfully, he didn’t know if that’s how it worked, but Virgil figured he had to probably get the boyfriend’s approval at least to some extent, considering how close the two were. 

Though, the prospect of meeting him didn’t lessen that possibility necessarily, instead it just sped up the process. Still… for his own anxiety’s sake, he’d rather know than not. At least having an idea of where he stood could help him get a game plan for what might come next. 

“Can you tell me a little more about him?” Virgil asked. 

“Oh! Absolutely,” they said, reaching for their phone as they started to scroll through it for a minute. “Let me just-” they suddenly frowned, and Virgil’s head tilted to the side as he waited to hear what was wrong. “Oh shoot, sorry Virgil. I forgot I never transferred over my data from my old phone.”

He was about to reassure them, before something lit up in their eyes and Virgil already knew them enough to know some kind of idea had clicked its way on in their mind. 

“How about this, when I get home, I’ll send some pictures and we can talk more about some of the details?”

They looked so hopeful, staring up at him from over the bridge of their glasses. What else could he do but give them a slightly awkward smile and a nervous “Sure, why not?”

And so it was, their date continuing from there as the topic switched to activities that would be appropriate for three people trying to get to know each other. When it was time to go home, it always left him a little warm that Emile sent him a text when they made it home safe, sending cute, animated gifs of cheek kisses and hearts when he’d confirmed that he’d made it back alright too. 

It wasn’t five minutes later that he heard his phone blowing up with a stream of messages and Virgil smiled, hearing the familiar ring-tone he’d set for them specifically playing on repeat as he reached through his bag. 

Though, as soon as he clicked it to life, the image that stared back at him made the phone slip from his hand and clatter back into the heap of his bag. Virgil had to grab for it and double check he hadn’t just been seeing things as he unlocked it a second time. 

No. 

Staring back at him was a picture of Emile and Remy standing side by side, Remy’s arm was wrapped around their shoulder as the top of their head nestled into the round of his cheek. It looked new, they were wearing the same outfit that they’d worn out today and though it could have been coincidence, Virgil thought it was more likely that the picture was just taken. 

“Virgil, sweetheart, meet Remy, my other partner,” the message beneath read. 

Notes:

I don’t wanna fall for you now But it already happened, don’t know how Now I gotta ghost you Can I can’t keep too close to you And I’m not trying to fall for you now   —Fuck feelings by Oliva O’Brien

[can-of-pringles]

Playing With Fire - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: Canon typical violence, drinking, fighting, it's literally the movie.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Peter and the gang make it to Knowhere.

Note: This is a GOTG AU with my original character. I've been sitting on this fic wip for months and now the first rewritten movie is finished. I hope y'all enjoy and like my gotg oc. The first movie is completely written but I'll be posting it in chapters.

Also Read on AO3

Carina finished wiping down one of the numerous glass cages, shooting a sympathetic glance at the red-headed girl stuck inside. The girl gave her a similar look back, placing her gloved hand up on the glass for a second.

The redhead lowered her hand, watching as Carina moved on with her task. She leaned her head against the glass, sighing and closing her eyes for a brief moment before she continued people-watching. It wasn’t as if there was anything else she could do.

Carina continued with cleaning. She held a sponge up to another glass cage, pausing cleaning for a moment. She immediately bowed her head when she heard The Collector say her name.

“Yes, Master,” she spoke timidly.

“Your people have elbows, do they not?” He approached her.

She glanced down at her arms for a second, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “We do, Master.”

“Then use them.”

She looked up at him, trying to hide her fear.

“I don’t have to remind you what happened to the last attendant who disappointed me. Do I?” His tone was cold.

She held back a gasp and glanced away, looking at the poor Krylorian girl locked in a cage. She was hooked up to dangerous electrical wires; blatant fear in her eyes. Carina’s heart ached for her, but there wasn’t anything she could do.

“Chop, chop. Our guests will be here soon,” he added.

Carina remembered the sponge in her hand and went back to cleaning, furiously scrubbing the cage as if her life depended on it; in this case, that wasn’t hard to imagine.

The redhead nearby perked up at the mention of guests. All kinds of people came to visit semi-regularly, but by The Collector’s growing impatience, it sounded different this time. Perhaps some sort of special business deal?

---

Peter fiddled with his gun, practicing aiming it before the meeting with The Collector.

“Heads up! We’re inbound.” Rocket announced.

Peter placed his gun down and climbed up the ship’s ladder. He looked out of the ship’s main window. Groot sat in the co-pilot’s seat while Rocket focused on piloting. Gamora and Drax stood nearby.

“Whoa.” He exclaimed, seeing how big The Collector’s museum was out in space.

“What is it?” Drax asked.

“It’s called Knowhere. The severed head of an ancient celestial being,” Gamora explained. “Be wary-headed in, rodent.” She looked at Rocket before sitting down. “There are no regulations whatsoever here.”

They flew inside through its eye socket, being careful to fly past the multiple caverns, structures, and all the mining machines. Once they found a place to land, they parked the Milano and got out.

“Hundreds of years ago, the Tivan Group sent workers in to mine the organic matter within the skull. Bone, brain tissue, spinal fluid. All rare resources, highly valued in black markets across the galaxy. It’s dangerous and illegal work, suitable only for outlaws,” she spoke as they walked in, trying to blend in with the local crowds.

“Well, I come from a planet of outlaws. Billy the Kid, Bonnie and Clyde, John Stamos,” Peter rattled off.

“It sounds like a place, which I would like to visit,” Drax commented.

“Yeah, you should.”

A group of kids were running nearby when they saw them, suddenly stopping in front of them.

“Excuse me,” one kid said.

“Watch your wallets.” Peter reminded them.

“Can you spare any units?” Another kid asked.

While the rest of the kids were begging for money, one girl stopped in front of Groot; smiling. She watched curiously as he reached his hand out and started growing a flower in the palm of his hand. Once he was finished, he plucked it and handed it to her. She kindly accepted it and smiled as she looked down at the blossom.

Groot smiled as well and continued with the group as they walked to their destination.

“Your buyer’s in there?” Rocket looked up at Gamora and gestured to the bar in the distance with a tilt of his head.

“We are to wait here for his representative.”

Crowds of people stood outside, waiting to get in. The bouncer at the front roughly threw someone out, letting him fall to the ground.

“This is no respectable establishment. What do you expect us to do while we wait?” Drax complained, not catching on.

---

The music boomed while everyone inside partied and had a blast. Drax and Rocket cheered as they watched the game on the table while surrounded by the other gamblers; betting on F’saki and Orloni. They watched as one of the Orloni got devoured by a bigger F’saki. Groot didn’t hide his shock. The smile he had turned into a frown.

“Yahoo!” Rocket cheered, holding a dark blue drink in one paw.

Another Orloni ran across the table, trying to escape from being captured. He ultimately lost, getting snatched up and eaten by a F’saki.

“My Orloni has won, as I won at all things!” Drax shouted.

The F’saki looked around the cheering crowd, enjoying all the attention it was receiving.

Drax raised his drink. “Now, let’s put more of this liquid into our bodies.”

Rocket looked at him and raised his glass as well. “That’s the first thing you said that wasn’t bat-shit crazy!”

Outside of the bar, Gamora stood at the railing of a balcony, looking out into space. She turned her head to the sound of Peter’s voice.

“Man, you wouldn’t believe what they charge for fuel out here. I might actually lose money on this job,” Peter spoke, moving to stand next to her.

“My connection is making us wait,” she responded, frankly sounding tired of the whole thing. She absentmindedly polished her blade.

“It’s just a negotiation tactic. Trust me, this is my specialty.” He leaned against the railing, looking at her. “Where yours is more, ‘stab, stab. Those are my terms.’” He deadpanned.

She scoffed lightly and smiled a bit, glancing at him for a moment before looking away. Her smile faded. “My father didn’t stress diplomacy.”

“Thanos?”

She looked at him again, mildly glaring. “He’s not my father.”

He stayed silent, briefly glancing down before looking at her again.

“When Thanos took my home world, he killed my parents in front of me. He tortured me, turned me into a weapon,” Gamora admitted.

Peter blinked a couple of times, trying to hide his initial shock.

“When he said he was going to destroy an entire planet for Ronan, I couldn’t stand by and…” She trailed off, instead noticing his Walkman.

“Why would you risk your life for this?” She gently grabbed it off his belt, pressing a button on it. It started playing a song.

“My mother gave it to me,” he answered.

She looked up at him.

“My mom liked sharing with me all the pop songs that she loved growing up. I happened to have it on me, when I was… the day that she…” He went silent, trying to steady his voice. “You know, when I left Earth.” He ignored the burn he felt in his throat, getting teary-eyed. He gently took it back from her, clipping it to his belt again.

“What do you do with it?” She asked.

“Do? Nothing. You listen to it. Or you can dance.”

“I’m a warrior and an assassin. I do not dance.” She stated matter-of-factly.

He gave her a look. She ignored it and turned to look back out into space.

“Really? Well, on my planet, there’s a legend about people like you. It’s called Footloose. And in it, a great hero named Kevin Bacon teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that dancing, well… it’s the greatest thing there is.” He slightly lectured.

“Who put the sticks up their butts?” She asked.

“What? No, that’s just a—”

“That is cruel.” She didn’t hide her disdain.

“It’s just a phrase people use,” he explained.

She still furrowed her brows in confusion. Peter took off his headphones and carefully placed them on her head. She took it in for a moment, listening to the music.

“The melody is pleasant!” She raised her voice.

He jumped a little in surprise, but nodded, quickly regaining his composure. He looked into her eyes, slowly reaching his hand out to hers. She hesitantly accepted it. They stood inches apart. He slowly leaned in to kiss her before she quickly pulled her knife out against his throat, shouting, no.

“Ow! What the hell?” He exclaimed, feeling the sharpness of the blade she held against his neck.

“I know who you are, Peter Quill! And I am not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your… your pelvic sorcery!” She told him off.

“That is not what’s happening here.” He choked the words out. The blade was dangerously close to cutting him.

She decided to release him. Peter heard loud shouting coming from the bar. He turned and in the distance saw a fight between Drax and Groot.

“Oh, no.” He groaned in annoyance and headed inside toward the fight.

Drax pinned Groot to the ground, repeatedly punching him in the face. The surrounding crowd shouted and cheered Drax on. Groot grew out his vines and wrapped them around Drax, trying to choke him. He yelled and managed to pull off the vines, breaking them. Rocket aimed his gun at Drax, prepared to shoot him.

Gamora stepped in and pulled Drax off of Groot. “Stop it!”

Rocket ignored her, still ready to shoot. Peter rushed in and stepped in front of Rocket, blocking him.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!” He exclaimed.

“This vermin speaks of affairs he knows nothing about!” Drax argued. Gamora still held him back.

“That is true!” Rocket admitted, not having any shame.

“He has no respect!” Drax continued.

“That is also true!”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Peter held his hand out, trying to stop the fight from escalating.

Groot finally recovered and stood up, fixing his jaw.

“Keep calling me vermin, tough guy! You just wanna laugh at me like everyone else!” Rocket accused.

“Rocket, you’re drunk. All right? No one’s laughing at you.” Peter tried to calm him down.

“He thinks I’m some stupid thing! He does!” Rocket continued. “Well, I didn’t ask to get made!”

Everyone stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t ask to be torn apart, and put back together over and over and turned into some…” He took a breath, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Some little monster!”

“Rocket, no one is calling you a monster,” Peter spoke.

“He called me ‘vermin’!” He pointed at Drax.

Drax glared at him while Gamora still held him back.

“She called me ‘rodent’!”

Gamora turned her head and looked at him.

Rocket gritted his teeth, and his eyes watered. “Let’s see if you can laugh after five or six good shots to your frickin’ face!” He readied his gun again, aiming at them.

Drax tried to break free of Gamora’s grasp. Peter jumped in to stand in front of Rocket, attempting to get him to stop.

“No, no, no, no! Four billion units! Rocket! Come on, man! Hey!” He stammered.

Rocket bared his teeth, showing his sharp canines.

“Suck it up for one more lousy night and you’re rich.”

Rocket took a while to think it over. He lowered his gun and glanced down, still contemplating. Everyone watched with bated breath. Groot looked away, visibly upset. Rocket furrowed his brows and powered down the gun.

“Fine. But I can’t promise, when all this is over I’m not gonna kill every last one of you jerks,” he said, resigned.

“See? That’s exactly why none of you have any friends!” Peter gestured to all of them. “Five seconds after you meet somebody, you’re already trying to kill them!”

“We have traveled halfway across the quadrant. And Ronan is no closer to being dead.” Drax turned and walked away.

“Drax!”

“Let him go.” Gamora watched him leave. “We don’t need him.”

They all turned their heads when they heard the sound of a door opening. Inside stood Carina. “Milady Gamora, I’m here to fetch you for my master.” She bowed and gestured toward the door.

[mha-stuff-i-guess]

Scene from Chapter 21 of Portal Panic by Weshney on ao3. I love Astral so much, and when I first read this part I was practically vibrating with happiness.

The text on the phone says: Withdrawing. Intervention unnecessary. Cause: small appliance. Casualties: mouth-watering cookies. Single survivor saved from destruction. 10/10 would steal again. Fire and Rescue still inbound to turn off building alarm.