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peaceisadirtyword · 5 years

Text

I need to tell you something (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I don’t even know what is this. I just sat down in front of my laptop and started writing and this is the result, which probably means it’s awful, but I wanted to post something so... Here you go💕 Thank you for reading and for all the birthday wishes! You’re the best💜

Warnings: Ivar being Ivar, insecurity, self-doubt, a bit of smut, fluffy ending

Words: 2521

"Everything is ready"

Ubbe's voice startled him. He blinked a few times and nodded, clearing his throat and biting his lip, not even looking at his older brother. He was too nervous.

It's not a good idea, you're going to scare her, she... She won't want you.

Again, and fortunately, his brother interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you okay, Ivar?" He sat down next to him on the bed, putting his hand on his shoulder "You look just like I did just before my first battle"

"I'm fine" he frowned, his voice shaking a bit "Just... A bit nervous"

"That's normal" his brother chuckled "But you don't have to be nervous, Ivar, Y/N loves you. Everyone knows that"

He was quick enough to stop listening to that part of him that was too sure you didn't love him. Maybe you appreciated him, maybe you cared for him. Maybe you pitied him enough to be with him, but you didn't love him.

"She does" Ubbe seemed to know exactly what was going on inside his head "Trust me, Ivar, maybe you can't see it but... She has to love you to put up with you and your temperament"

"What if she says no?" He let himself be a bit vulnerable in front of his brother, for a minute "What if she... Rejects me?"

"Then she's not the one" Ubbe shot him a sad smile "The Gods brought you together... And only the Gods can break you apart, it's up to them"

Ivar looked away again, and suddenly he felt sick.

"Hvitserk must be arriving with her" Ubbe patted his back softly "Come on, have some ale to calm those nerves"

_______________________________________

Your eyes widened and you gasped softly when you entered the hunting cabin. Hvitserk had interrupted you as you were cleaning your small house and dragged you to the cabin, saying it was an emergency and you must go quickly.

Thinking something had happened to Ivar, you followed him, worried and frowning as he wouldn't tell you what was happening.

The last thing you expected was that.

The brothers put the wooden table in the middle of the cabin, with two chairs and some big plates full of meat, fish and fruits. The only light were the candles they had placed around the room. And it smelled... Surprisingly nice considering it was a hunting cabin.

The bed was ready, with new and clean furs and soft pillows they had brought directly from the Great Hall.

"What is this?"

Ivar walked over to you leaning into his crutch. The dim light of the candles didn't let you appreciate the blush that covered his cheeks. His eyes didn't make contact with yours and his voice shook a bit as he spoke.

"It's a surprise... For you" he cleared his throat softly, feeling stupid.

"Did you do all of this for me?" You smiled widely, biting your lip.

"Yeah" he frowned "I..." You interrupted him, closing the distance between the both of you and cupping his cheeks before kissing his lips softly, surprising him.

"I love it" you muttered excitedly "Thank you, Ivar"

He smiled softly, your touch calming him down enough to, at least, stop shaking.

Ubbe cleared his throat.

"We're leaving before Hvitserk gets hungry" he announced, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Yeah, have fun" Hvitserk chuckled, winking at you before turning around and leaving the cabin, followed by Ubbe.

You looked at Ivar again, biting your lip in excitement.

"What is all of this for? Did I forget an important day or...?"

"No, I just... Wanted to surprise you" he shrugged, blushing even more "Because I need to tell you something"

Your smile faded. You hated those words. Surely, he had found someone else, someone better, not a farmer's daughter. Maybe the princess of another kingdom, whose father offered an alliance to Queen Aslaug.

He was a prince, after all, he deserved a princess.

"Alright" you muttered, feeling more anxious than excited "Let's talk then"

The food looked delicious. It was delicious. But it was like your stomach closed as soon as Ivar said those words. And he was acting so weird...

"How was your day?" you asked, trying to cheer him up. Maybe he was in pain or had had a bad day and that's why he was so quiet and serious...

"Not bad, I guess" he shrugged as he chewed a piece of meat "I went to train with my brothers, then argued with Sigurd and then I came here to prepare everything"

"Nice" you giggled "Why did you argue with Sigurd?"

"He said you'd never..." He closed his eyes and stopped talking, clenching his jaw "Nothing, it was stupid, forget it" he shook his head.

You frowned a bit, but didn't push him, though you were very curious about what Sigurd had to say about the things you'd never do.

"I spent the morning on the market, I had to buy some food and fabric for the dress I'm making for your mother" you shrugged "And then I went to the forge to look for you, but the blacksmith told me you didn't go today... I talked to his son, though, Arne I think it's his name. He's really nice, he offered to make a dagger for me"

Ivar stopped eating, his fist clenched around his fork and he sighed.

"Arne likes you" he said before he could stop himself.

"What?" You tilted your head with a confused expression. Oh, how he hated that, the strange feeling on his stomach whenever you widened your beautiful eyes and parted your lips in confusion. You looked too adorable.

"He likes you" he repeated "I heard him once, telling his friend, he wants to court you"

He remembered that day very clearly. And also how much he had to contain himself to avoid sinking his newly-sharped axe in his stupid head.

"But..." You frowned "He knows I'm with you"

"He doesn't care, no one cares" he scoffed "I'm the cripple, you're completely available at their eyes"

You gasped in disbelief, letting your fork on the plate and crossing your arms on your chest.

"Well I think I'm the one who decides if I'm available or not, am I not?" You raised an eyebrow "Even if I wasn't with you, I would never allow Arne to court me, he's even worse than Hvitserk" you rolled your eyes.

Ivar looked a bit taken aback by your words, but he recovered quickly, blinking and putting his usual frown again.

"Maybe you should let him court you"

This time you were more scared than confused.

"What?"

"Nothing" he rubbed his eyes, irritated "Forget it"

"No, tell me" you glared at him "What do you mean? Do you want me to let him to do it?"

"No, I don't want you to" he rolled his eyes "I just... He can offer you more"

"I don't know what you're talking about" you sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing your temple "And I don't think I want to know, but can you elaborate, please?"

"Arne is a man, isn't he? A true man, who can walk, and fight and... Maybe satisfy you better"

You couldn't believe it. If he wanted to break up with you, he could do it in another way.

"What are you saying Ivar?" You nearly sobbed now, rubbing your eyes "You can walk, with crutches but you can walk, and even if you could only crawl around, I couldn't care less, and you definitely can fight, and I'm going to ignore the 'he can satisfy you better' comment because I really want to slap you right now"

Ivar clenched his jaw. His deep blue eyes fixed on yours and he opened his mouth again.

Gods, this man loves arguing.

"I see how everyone looks at us when we're together, Y/N, I've seen them laugh and whisper, because they know you're too much for me, and you'll leave me for someone much better, someone who is able to take care of you as you deserve, you'll never marry me, I'm just the crippled son of an awful king" he raised his voice. You weren't used to him raising his voice at you, but that wasn't what hurt.

"Do you really think that of me?" Your voice sounded much more shaky and broken than you thought, and Ivar's expression changed immediately "Do you think I'm going to leave you for 'someone better'? Do you think I lie every time I tell you how much I love you? Do you really think I'm that kind of person?"

Ivar sighed, his face softened and he shook his head.

"I didn't mean that" he whispered "I just..."

"I've told you a thousand times and I'll tell you again, Ivar" you pressed your lips together "I love you, I don't care if you're a prince, if your legs don't work and, honestly, all those people can go to Hel" you scoffed "I thought I made that clear, but I see I didn't" you sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed. Ivar's eyes followed you as you started undoing the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to bed" you said, shrugging "I'm not hungry anymore"

_____________________________________

You heard as he got up, took off his braces and took his clothes off, getting under the furs of the bed. You felt his presence behind you, but his arm around your waist and his breathing on your ear startled you.

"I fucked it up, didn't I?" He muttered.

"Yes" you didn't move away from him, but didn't turn around either.

"I... This was meant to be a very romantic and special night" he sighed "I was nervous I..."

"Good night, Ivar"

"No, listen to me" he furrowed his brows "I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up, I... Don't think that"

This time you turned around to face him, with a serious expression and holding back the tears.

"I need you to be honest with me, and tell me if you really think I feel like that about you" you bit your lip "Because I'm working every day to make you feel loved, to make you happy and I'm willing to fight for us as hard as I have to, and it hurts to know it's not working"

"I've never felt loved, Y/N" he had tears on his eyes, and you had to hold yourself back from hugging and kissing him to comfort him "My mother suffocated me, my father was absent my whole life, my brothers..." He looked away "Everyone thinks I'm not enough, that I'm a poor cripple that can't do anything, and I tend to push people away because I can't handle it, I can't handle not knowing for sure if you'll end up leaving me, like my father did, and I don't know how is to be loved by someone who is not my family, so I just can't understand how you..."

"You're temperamental, a bit cruel sometimes and rude" you interrupted him with a small smile. Ivar glared at you, but you chuckled and your fingers caressed his cheek "But I've seen you grow up and fight, I've seen how strong you are, I've seen you have a lot of love to give, but no one to love, I've seen how much you care for your mother, and for your brothers, I've seen you get up and walk when you've always been told you wouldn't ever do it, I've seen how smart you are and I've seen you feed the puppies that were born at the barn last week" you smiled and pressed your forehead against his "And all these good things make those bad things disappear, in a way, and you're good to me, that's why I love you, Ivar, so don't ever doubt it"

The tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting the soft pillow in which he rested his head. You kissed his lips softly, and his arms around your waist tightened, putting you closer to him.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you" he muttered, closing his eyes tightly "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, Y/N" he sobbed "I'm the luckiest man on Midgard, and I love you, too"

He made you smile again, giggling softly as you kissed him again, this time the kiss was deeper and more intense.

"To answer your question: yes, you fucked up, but you have a chance to fix it"

_____________________________________

Ivar did fix it. He tried his best and he succeeded, burying his face between your legs and pushing two of his fingers into you. You teared one of the pillows as his tongue worked your clit and his fingers curled to hit that delicious spot inside you that made you see stars. Your legs were trembling around his head and your hand was gripping the back of his neck so tightly you were afraid you'd hurt him. The good thing about the hunting cabin was that you didn't have to cover your mouth to muffle your moans.

You came moaning loudly, calling his name in desperation as he smirked against your sex, kissing the inside of your thigh when you were finished. Ivar's eyes looked warmer than ever when he started crawling between your legs, his lips leaving warm and wet kisses around your body.

He pressed his forehead against yours and grabbed your leg to put it around his waist, waiting until you moved your hips against him, moaning. Then he thrusted into you with a deep moan that made you clench your walls against him.

Ivar's breathy moans were your favorite sound, especially when he let them out so carelessly, his quick breathing hitting your ear and your neck. He moved his hips quickly, and you were sure you wouldn't last.

You came again screaming his name, your nails digging on his back and your walls clenching even more around his cock as the pressure on your lower belly intensified so much you nearly sobbed.

Ivar moaned your name, and his thrusts became sloppy and irregular until he came too, inside you.

Then he pressed his forehead against you again, still inside you, both panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He kissed you passionately, and when your eyes found his again, he opened his mouth.

"Marry me"

"What?" Your eyes widened and you moved so quickly your head bumped into his "Oh fuck" you bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

"Gods, woman" he groaned, touching his head and glaring at you before cupping your face to kiss you again "I'm asking you to marry me"

"Ivar" you shook your head in disbelief "Are you serious?"

"Yes" he looked away, pressing his lips together "I wanted to ask you on the last Haustblót, but I couldn't... And it was the purpose of this whole night, to ask you to be my wife" he whispered the ending.

"Of course I’ll marry you" your eyes filled with tears and Ivar's smile widened "I love you, Ivar, and I would love to be your wife”

____________________________________

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#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #vikings #vikings imagine #ivar smut #vikings smut

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activatingaggro · 6 years

Text

SIPARA NZINGA | 8.3 sweeps / 18 years old

off the western coast of hamavet, the farthest continent

(6,161 words)

There's bubbles still in your flaps when the gate opens, and you can finally step out.

The first hall that Wilcox leads you down is surreal! It's not so much a building, as it is a dome: the walls are curved high above you, high enough that her horns aren't even scraping the ceiling, and they're glass all the way through. You can see the water outside, sloshing against the glass, and the fish trudging through it. (Floating? Swimming?) There's goosebumps pricking on your skin from the air down here, but when you place your hand against the glass, it's even colder.

"Come along now, miss," Wilcox says, and you startle, turn on your heel to follow.

When ID had told you that he had a proposition for you, you hadn't quite trusted him! You and him.. well, you're complicated, right now, that's the problem. He lied to you. He lied to you, and abandoned you, and he didn't care enough to fix it, not for an entire half-sweep. And what's an apology to fucking that? You'd cried over him, for fuck's sake, and you'd made Pheres deal with it, for perigees and perigees.

.. but a half-sweep isn't too long, when the two of you'll live for at least three dozen of 'em. That's what he keeps reminding you, each time you start to snarl. And how're you supposed to stay mad, when he gives you opportunities like this? Proposition, he said, but this's a fucking favour, more like. "There's a fuschia looking for geneticists, my little hellion," he'd told you, all coy over the husktop, just this side of cloying, "and she's under the Queenpin's thumb, so I could get you in. It's research, ashmote, and more technology than you've ever seen in one place. Isn't this the sort of thing you do?"

You'd been a little suspicious, but how were you supposed to say no to that? Research! Actual research, in a field where they needed you, and where you could work with people for the first time - properly, without having to hide what you know, or how you learned it. You don't know much about ID's boss, but you know plenty about his business. And what's one gray-eyed pupa's education source, when everyone here was probably illegal as fuck?

Illegal, or fuschia.

He hadn't mentioned Wilcox was so tall, though. Or that she was quite this fuschia.

"This is the main lab," she tells you now, peering back over her shoulder. You don't like looking at her, much! ID loves seadwellers, but you've always been with Pheres: there's something about the way their skin moves that makes your skin crawl. It's too dull in spots where it ought to be bright! The fat's too thick, in all the places it shouldn't be at all. And when she smiles at you, it wrinkles her cheeks, and right under her eyes, and nowhere else.

Her pink eyes.

"I think you'll like it. I enjoyed the work that, ah, monseiur Comedy sent our way. You work on helminths?"

She's really, really tall.

"I read your papers," she prompts.

"Yeah -" There's an octopus on the wall, watching you through the glass as you walk through the next hall. There's seadwellers everywhere, clustered together at the tables, and.. there's only ten or so, scattered throughout the room, but this is more than you've ever seen in one place before. You draw your arms in closer, and if you're half-cuddling your bag, fuck anyone that'd look twice. "Um. Wait, nah, girl, soz. I work with, like, ectoparasites! Annelids, mostly. My base stock was, like, nereididae, originally, but I bred 'em to be calcified, and ---"

BT: <))) I told Wilcox I don't need help > So she sent you anyway <

BT: <))) Charming > She's wasting everyone's time <

AA: loool.

AA: mb you don't need help, bb. mb you need G U I D A N C E. >;}

BT: <))) HA >

BT: <))) Of course > Why wouldn't I need help from a hemoanon <

BT: <))) Sweeps of education > But all of that blunts in the face of .

BT: <))) What > Bootleg schoolfeeds? <

AA: bb, pls.

AA: it's stolen orn fucking bust.

BT: <))) Of course > What was I thinking? <

BT: <))) Empress fucking forbid it's not illegal <

BT: <))) Because the rest of this isn't bad enough <

BT: <))) I'm in the lab > If you fuck up my prototype <

BT: <))) I'm feeding you to it >

"And who," she drawls, peering at you over her nose, "are you?"

Rostik Taalik is a lot of things. She's the only other landdweller here, for starters, even with the fins behind her ears. She's the only person your size, with barely four inches on you. She's one of the only folks your age, and she’s got the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen on a troll.

And all of that means she's your designated lab partner for the night, as you decided when you walked in. Unfortunately, as it turns out, she's also a huge bulge munch.

"Fuuhao," you drawl right back, spite so thick that it feels like it ought to catch on your tongue. Your eyes are gray and your horns are capped for the night, the blunted edges of the round-end chafing at your skull each time you move, but you're not a lowblood, right now, and you're not going to let some upstart indigo start acting like she's got anything above you. "We spoke online, nookmunch. Now, scoot over, I'm sitting down here."

"Wilcox said you're working on pupation. And I'm supposed to help out." The device she's been staring at is big enough that it takes up a whole corner of the room. It looks sort of like a recuperacoon, if someone made a coon out of sopor: it's ridged like one, with the gentle fall and rise of any healthy device, but the sides are slick with slime that seeps out of it with every passing second, sliding towards the vents on the ground with the careless viscosity of pudding.

When you touch it, the slime clings in strings to your palm when you tug it away.

"Brilliant," Taalik says from behind you, dry. "Should I wait while you lick it?"

"Nah, dude, hard pass on that shit." You wipe off your hand on your pants, then turn to face her.

She's got purple all the way through her eyes already, and more jewelry in her face than you'd see in a tongue. She's playing with the ring in her lip as she watches you, eyes half-lidded, and thank god she's one of those folks who can't hide shit: her ears are round, her face is finned, but she's low enough that she doesn't make your skin crawl, like the fish, and her contempt's clear.

You might be in gray, but you know that look. She's already making up her mind on what caste you are, and how she feels about that.

Well, fuck her. She wants to make decisions? So are you.

"So, like, lemme see if I've got this straight. You want to, like -" You wish you had gum to chew! But your fangs are too sharp for that shit: the last time you'd stolen a pack from Laledy and tried it, you'd half slit your tongue. So you settle for shoving your thumbs into your pants, horns down just to show her how much you don't fucking care. "Start a second pupation, yeah? Crack us open, scrape out the bits, and start it over. But slight problem there, dude. You gonna breed up new new imaginal discs? 'cause we're kinda all out."

"And if you don't have those -"

She clicks her tongue at you, then flips her braids over her shoulder. "Congratulations. You've read a book.” She curls her lip at you, all contempt, and.. you should be focusing on that, but her lipliner’s tighter than you’ve ever managed. You’re not sure if you’re impressed, or if you hate it. ��But obviously not enough, because you're still behind. We can insert that shit with viral carriers, dumbass. Set it up however they want. Venomsacks, broader shoulders, a bigger rack, different chrome - it's all in the research notes. Or did Wilcox not share that?"

"I've read the book, dude." You should pop her, honestly! Establish dominance the old-fashioned way: flip the laptop, that coffee, and the table right onto her lap, and see if she's still going to sass you after that. But you don't want to start a fight in the middle of the lab on your third night here. "But never mind all of the spy shit."

(The spy shit. You can't believe you're in coon with a bunch of seadweller fucking rebels.. and this girl.)

"What about the disks for the rest of you? How the fuck are you gonna keep the bits that you want coming back properly?"

"Never mind. Did Wilcox send you to waste my time?" She looks like a land-dweller, but when she blinks at you, languid, it's like watching one of the fish. The way she does it is all fucking wrong. "Because," she says, flat, turning her attention back to her husktop, "that's shit we've already got covered. When you enter the cocoon, it'll pick up on your pre-coded disks."

"You mean the ones that melted in the second instar?" you mock, flipping your ears forward, and she looks back up.

AA: tweet tweet, mothernfuckern.

AA: do i gotta lay out, like, birndseed to get you to come out? bc if so: n/n/n, soz, am not doing it.

AA: you get shitty old brneadcrnumbs like evernyone else, and you will fucking like it.

LB: how could I refuse with that kind of an offering

LB: what’s going on?

AA: ty, ty. i knew you'd fucking love it.

AA: i'm tlking to ppl who arne kind of yrn ppl. i mean, not rnly, they'rne all fucking fish? but they'rne Y RN P E O P L E kind of ppl.

AA: so i was wonderning if you can gimme any deets?

AA: and i'll give you deets back, ofc. >:}

LB: you’ll have to give deets to get deets tbh

LB: my kind of fish people doesn’t give me a lot to work with

AA: jfc, dude.

AA: 'kay, bettern way of putting it. >:}

AA: have you hearnd anything abt a nearn-tyrnian doing, like, rnesearnch? igenetics rnesearnch?

LB: hmm

LB: I think I know who you’re talking about

LB: been tapping up pre-ascension scientists for something or other right?

AA: lol, y.

LB: what do you need on her?

AA: uhhh. idk, dude, yrn the infotrnoll.

AA: how about..

AA: how likely is she gonna trny to shove me in a cocoon? >:}

AA: is that a thing that, like, ppl arne sayin'?

LB: she’s tapping you?

AA; lmfao, n.

AA: she tapped me like, a week ago.

LB:

LB: and you’re asking me this now

AA: looool.

AA: yeah, well, bettern now than nevern, rnight?

AA: she's a fish, i ain't exactly, like, supern wornrnied, herne. so chillll. i've filleted bettern folks than hern. >:}

AA: and i got info forn you in exchange, so, like, don't F U S S.

AA: how would you feel if you could just totes change yrn face?

LB: ok well I haven’t heard of anyone getting ganked and so far everyone I know of has responded to quads

LB: but also no one has left

LB: does Hadean even know where you are

AA: 'kay, cool.

AA: that's abt all i need to know, lmao. like, i'm prnetty surne nobodies bailed, bc this is fucking wicked?

AA: but y, wanted to check. >:}

AA: and ofc he doesssssss.

AA: wtf kinda q is that?

LB: idk he seems like he’d be a little freaked out about you doing shit on a seadweller’s turf

LB: it’s a little different than taking a fish down in the ring

LB: do you have an escape plan?

AA: loool.

AA: he prnobs is, lbrn.

AA: but w/e, he trnusts me to handle my shit, and i trnust him to handle his.

LB: what will you do if things go bad?

AA: dude, i'm yrn doctorn, yrn not mine. dnw abt it, 'kay?

AA: but fwiw, i totes have a rnoute alrneady planned.

AA: and if anything goes 2spoopy4me, i will pop down a vent, get out into the shipbay, and follow the sewage outlet all the way back up top.

AA: nbddd. evernyone else herne is like, fucking six footerns, and it's a squeeze forn M E.

LB: i might not be your doctor but this isn't medical. you did say that she was more my people

LB: and maybe delete your actual plan. are you sure things are encrypted on your end of things

AA: y, y. i'm just sayin' i know what i'm doing, losern. >:}

AA: and ofccccc.

AA: this entirne convo's deleting off my end aftern this shuts, dnw.

LB: what sort of stuff is she working on anyway?

AA: evernybody herne's into genetics. and fixing shit.

AA: like, she gave us a full hourn long goddamn lecturne on abt how grn8 it would be if we could just F I X ppl, instead of culling them.

LB: is there one big project you're working on or a bunch of smaller ones

AA: bunch of tiny ones. but they all feed into one big one.

AA: even tho idk if ppl arne rnealising that yet, lmao.

AA: wtfevernnn, waderns arne fucking dumb. >:}

LB: is everyone else there a seadweller?

LB: also do you know what the big project is yet

AA: y, me and m arne the only airnsacks.

AA: and y. loool.

AA:

AA: how would you feel if you could just totes change yrn face?

AA: it's that. >:}

LB: oh huh

LB: definitely useful

LB: literally no way the empire would like that

LB: also whose m

AA: the othern airnsack herne, brnah.

AA: so therne's yrn info. tyvm forn yrns, yrn aid has been apprneciated.

AA: we cool?

LB: yeah sure

LB: be safe

AA: loool. you too.

AA: don't get locked in any morne basements, bb.

You’ll give props where props are due. When you hit Taalik, she barely flinches. She just pauses, rubbing her jaw like she’s more shocked than anything else, and watches you.

It takes a moment to swallow the snarl trying to rip all the way out of your throat. But you manage to keep it down to nothing more than a rattle. “I’d, like, say now you apologise,” you sniff, “but obvs your lusus didn’t raise you properly, so what-the-fuck-ever.”

“And what,” she says, her fingers still resting on the pale spot on her jaw, “am I apologising for?”

If you’d had more time, you should've gone for her nose.

(But it’s a cute nose. You don’t want to break it, mostly, not until she starts talking.)

“We’ll just pay off the lowbloods,” you mock, “and get them to test it. Like - are you for real? You’re just going to pluck some poor kids off the street, and turn them into - like - fucking labrats?”

“Would you rather we didn’t pay them?” She finally lets go of her jaw, and part of you wants to bolt back when she steps in. She’s indigo. Even if she wasn’t high enough to make your skin crawl, there’s something uncanny about her, and the way she moves. The way she smiles, on the rare occasions you’ve wrestled one out of her.

(Dry, mean, at everyone else’s expense - but still a smile.)

Taalik’s the best out of everyone in this lab. She’s the only other landdweller, and when you’re surrounded by gills.. well, that’s worth more than just chrome, isn’t it? But you’ve watched when her sleeves slide up, taken in the tight coils of her arms when she’s getting annoyed enough to start snatching things. She might be the only one you want to deal with..

But that doesn’t mean you want her in your space. She’s still indigo, and you’re pretty sure she could make a fair try at ripping you in two.

.. but that doesn’t mean you’ll flinch, either, as she steps in close. “No, I want you to be decent,” you snap, tossing your curls, and you let your shoulder clip her as you stride past. There’s a whuff of something that might be a laugh behind you, but you’re going to fucking ignore that. “C’mon. If we’re gonna start planning for test subjects, anyway, dude, we ought to do it right. Pay some olives - if we want this to work on everyone, we might as well start with the median, anyway..”

AA: pheeeeeern.

AA: wtf do you do when someone's rneally, rneally cute.

AA: but also, like, yrn prnetty surne they'rne legit 100% chaotic evil.

RS: / mmm / my assumption / personally / has always been to pile them /

RS: / but i think hadean might have some objections to that /

AA: hey!

AA: fuck off, i'm chaotic neutrnal at best, tyvm.

At the end of the second week, everything goes to fucking hell.

Pulling an all-day work session had been kind of dumb. If Hadean was here, he would've hauled you forcibly to your 'coon after the first six hours - but he isn't here, and you've got to take advantage of that. When Taalik had drifted off to sleep, you'd kept working with half a mind of impressing her.

Or, no - not impressing her. Proving her right! She's been leaning on you more and more over the last two weeks, and last night, she'd asked you if you knew how to set up a time-released enzyme package.

By the time you'd found out you didn't, it was too late to ask for help, and the only thing that mattered was fucking doing it. If the sun was up by the time you managed, who cared? You'd done it.

And now you were going to haul back coffee and waffles before she woke up, so you could hold it over her in the best kind of way.

Or, at least, that was the plan. There's voices drifting out of the cafeteria when you come up near, which's unusual enough to make you pause.

"I still think this is unneccessary," Wilcox says, and there's something strange enough about her voice that you stop mid-step. The hall's empty, but the door to the cafeteria's open, as always. And it doesn't sound like it's full. "You're not really allowed to be in here, you know?"

There ought to be the clank of forks and plates by this point. Or at least the rip of the nasty protein bars that half of the fish down here eat. Instead, when you flip your ears forward..

Under the whispers, someone's crying.

"Don't worry!" someone else says, and it's a new voice that you haven't heard before. Temasekian, part of your pan pings, helpful, but that's strange: everyone here's further north than that, and you're the last person that Wilcox hauled in. The gates, as she told the lot of you, had closed, and her party had been assembled. Every project had a team. All you had to do now was make them work. "Warrants procured, lah. Nothing illegal here!" A beat. "Hope there's nothing illegal," they - she - teases, and there's amusement soaking her words like salt. "Right, yeah?"

"I don't think you'll believe me if I say no."

"Probably not~!" There's a thump. You should turn and bolt. You should be burrowing deep into the vents now, and heading straight for the dockyard. You should be doing a lot of things, but it feels like your feet are lead.

Not quite lead. You can take a step forward, silent as a mouse, and when you do, around the doorframe, Wilcox comes into view. There's a girl standing in front of her, her hair shining as bright as bone in the dim of the room. Her horns are long enough that they're framing Wilcox's neck, for all that her head's ducked down. If she moved too suddenly, or turned her head, they could slice right into the skin, easy as butter.

Maybe that's why Wilcox has her fins pinned back, for the first time you've seen her. "There's really no need for that," Wilcox tries again, brisk, as the girl steps away. The lighting in the cafeteria is poor, as always: it's been a joke for longer than you've been here that it ought to be replaced, but half of the seadwellers were born in the depths, and they'd objected. (You don't know why you're thinking of this now. You don't know why you're still standing here.)

The lighting is poor, but when Wilcox shifts, it hits her wrists, and the cuffs shine red.

Farther out of sight, there's a shuffle of feet. Then a thud, and a shriek.

The girl pivots to look. You sink into the shadows, your pumpbiscuit racing, but her eyes slide right past you, off into a distance you can't see. "Hey!" she says, and at the same time, Wilcox surges forward, fins flaring out.

Then someone wails. You recognise her voice: Hoshio, you think, the one with the fins shaped like the summer sun. "Wrong answer," someone else says, light. Their voice's deeper than the white-haired girls. "Sorry, sweetheart! Want to try again?"

"Hdijah!" the girl snaps. "Be nice! Royalty!"

You turn on your heel, and bolt.

Taalik's awake when you slide the door open. (Slide, not slam: if everyone's in the cafeteria, well, the two of you've been overlooked. No point in drawing attention in, now.) She's half-sprawled over your desk, shoulders slouched, her braids half-out of the twist she'd pulled them into.

"What's going on?" she asks, barely looking up. She's got such a long neck! Every time you look at it, you think she ought to have gills there, but the skin's smooth as the skin of her hands.

"Imps."

"Really. Did Falric finally succeed in summoning demons? Or did you just get into the mind honey?" She drags her finger across the screen. The video scrolls forward. The girl is saying something peppily about mascara, and eyeliner, and the best way to repel an auspistice with both --

So you slap your palm down in the center of it, and Taalik jerks her head up so quickly, you think she's going to bite you. If it was anyone else, she'd have hissed at you. As is, she just stares, eyelashes fanning over her eyes, like she thinks that makes her look unimpressed. "I should break your hand for that," she says, but she doesn't so much as move. "What, Fuuhao?"

"Imperials," you say, slowly, "are in the facility, and they arrested Wilcox, and they snapped Hoshio's arm. Like, she doesn't fucking have one, anymore. So what d'you think they're gonna do to me and you?"

She considers you for a moment. Then she sighs, pushes back her chair in a scrape of metal on metal. "Well. You better go, then. Like hell they'll do anything to me." She's so brisk. "But you?" Side-long, she looks at you. "No point in hanging around."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got dirt in your veins, dumbass. Are we really going to argue about that?" She's bustling along, even as you're sidling back towards the bathroom. There's a vent you'd scoped out there, the first night. It's just big enough for you to fit into, if you duck your horns, and you'd spent an hour each night since then tracking it to the shipyard, and counting how many steps it takes. You hadn't had the opportunity to try it, yet, but. It can't be too hard. You know you'll fit.

It just won't be pleasant, but when you think of going back into the hallway -

You won't. Better the vents.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving," you say instead, cracking the door.

She's shoving things into the bag, but she looks up. The look isn’t quite a smile! It’s more.. a curl of her lips, all dry and brittle, like that’s the only way she knows how to. "Try not to die."

That's about as friendly as you're going to get, you think.

The scramble through the vents is about as cramped as you expect. But if you keep your horns down, at least, they don't scrape, and there's enough clunks and sighs of machinery that no one thinks to look up.

AA: ico.

AA: are you here?

AA: because i kind of

AA: aw, shit.

AA: everything’s kind of fucked up right now, and i really, really could use some help.

You’re halfway across the shipbay when the door crashes open, and the girl saunters in.

(Not the girl. Nanako Bonjou, ID had told you, words rattling across the front of your screen so quickly that you’d barely had time to read them. Twelve sweeps, oliveblood with strong telekinesis, IPC --

Where’s the rest of her battery, sweetheart? Because fuck her, you’re going to have to worry about the rest of that, and at least some of them ought to be sick --)

“Où es-tu?” Nanako calls out. “Où es-tu, ma petit souris? Montre-toi! Montre-toi, où que tu sois!”

The ground is dry under foot, and you’ve had sweeps of practice. The first thing you’d done, back in the room, was strip off your boots: now you’re down to socks, and when you launch yourself across the pavement, it’s as silent as you can manage. Her ears are flat, inflexible little things! She can’t hear you, if you try hard enough.

If you can keep your pumpbiscuit from giving you away. It’s pounding like a drum, so loud that you can barely here her off in the distance. All you want to do is get to the sewage outlet, but that’s out in the open, right where she can see it. Right now, she doesn’t know you’re here.

So you dive underneath one of the ships, instead, wriggling and kicking. The metal scrapes at your skin, and you have to slow down so that it doesn’t tear. What if they spot the blood, and try to catalogue it? What if your name comes up? You’ve never paid that much attention to science. You don’t know what they could do with a piece of hair, or a scrape of skin, or blood --

Fear is hard. You’ve never been one to be afraid of anything, not really, and if you hadn’t spent so much time calming Pheres down, you’re not sure you’d recognise the way your hands are going clammy, or the tightness in your chest. But this girl could kill you.

This girl will kill you, if she can. Taalik’s an indigo. The rest of the scientists are all violets -

- and her partner had still snapped Hoshio’s arm like it was so much tinder.

What’s a neck, compared to that?

“Sounis,” Nanako sings, and you can see her boots as they step by. You don’t breathe. Your phone is on silent, but you don’t dare to check it: ID’s advice had been for you to get the fuck out, and not wait for him to do something to help you.

(”You’ve gone and buried yourself under a ton of saltwater, darling,” he’d said, distressed: “I’m going to try, but I just don’t know what you want me to do, here!”)

(Like he hadn’t been the one to tell you about this.)

(It’s not fair to cling to his coat-tails: you’re not seven anymore, and he’s not your quadrant. But part of you’s resentful all the same.)

THat’s fine, though. You’ll make it be fine. You haven’t relied on ID in a half-sweep: you don’t need him now, not when it’s just you and a single girl in the bay. You’ll fight her yourself, if you need to, and with that thought, you slink out from under the ship enough to look.

When you peer out, she’s standing in front of the sewer outlet, just waiting.

That’s fine.

You don’t know much about ships. But you know enough to recognise a HMS Starbruiser when you see it, after all the nights Riccin spent trying to explain them to you. “They’re the fucking best,” she’d told you, practically curling in on herself from enthusiasm, “and they’re pure magnesium, girl, that’s the best part about it. Pure fucking - you can’t get better than that, in terms of weight, in terms of goddamn quality.” They were so expensive that the two of you’d barely been able to understand the price, back when she’d finally gone and found a listing online. And then, barely a perigee later, they’d all been recalled.

Except this one, apparently. There’s a fuel line, right above your head, brushing against your ears. When you sidle back and give it a yank, just hard enough for your prosthetic to stir, the line gives.

Another yank, and it gives.

The spray of gas hitting the ground sounds like thunder in the silence of the hall. She must hear it. She has to. So you’re sidling back before it’s even hit the ground, and as soon as you’re back on your feet, you lean forward and give the back of the ship a shove. The fangs of your prosthetic biting in stings, more than it should after two weeks of healing. You can almost feel the siphon of blood as it pulls in -

- but it’s worth it, because a moment later, when you shove the ship again, the brake snaps somewhere underneath it. It lurches forward, uneasily at first, but with the minor slope of the ground rapidly giving it momentum. You’ve only got a second to fumble your lighter out of your pocket. A flick of the switch, then you toss it over your shoulder, hands shaking.

You don’t stay to watch. You’re already bolting when there’s a sizzle behind you, and then, a scarce second later, you feel the heat as the fuel line catches fire.

It’s when the ship’s hull catches fire that you hear it, though: the crackle of metal catching flame, and the shriek of the bolts, already beginning to protest under the new heat. Ducking behind a new ship, there’s a shriek and crumple of metal behind you, loud enough that it makes your soundflaps pin.

But you have to keep moving. There’s another ship that you give a shove, hard enough that it leaves you shaking, but it’s sliding right towards the flaming mess in the center. The air’s full of smoke already, black and billowing up at your feet, not at all deterred by the shriek of the sprinklers above flicking on. The smoke tickles at your lungs. It burns at your throat, and pulling your shirt over your nose doesn’t do anything to stop it. Pulling up the hood of your jacket helps a little, but not much.

It’s fine, you remind yourself. You’re not going to be here long, and the fish inside the labs -

- well, if they’re still alive, you hope you didn’t just blow up their ship.

(You hope Taalik’ll be fine. “Try not to die,” she’d told you, and you didn’t even think to say anything back.)

There’s crates along the side of the shipbay. You duck into those, and now.. all you have to do is wait. So you count to sixty, hidden neatly behind the cargo, and try to breathe in through your mouth. The girl will have bolted for the ships. IPC agent, ID had said, and an expensive model like a Starbruiser - well, it’s got to have been hers, doesn’t it?

And even if it isn’t, there’s six tons of water above you, and more below. A single crack in the frame of this place will drown the lot of you, from the fuschia on down. She’s a telekinetic. She’s probably securing a net over the flames even right now, siphoning out the oxygen and snuffing them before anything can blow.

It’s been sixty seconds. She has to. And in the meanwhile, the smoke’s burning all the way through your lungs, and you know the sort of damage that does. The sort of shit you’re probably breathing in.

(You didn’t get away from the explosion as quickly as you should’ve, you think. Your flaps hurt. Your bulbs hurt. Your body hurts, in a way you can’t tell if it’s from blood loss, or the explosion, and that’s doing nothing to stop the frantic patter of your heart.)

She’s going to be at the ship, and you have to go, you have to go now. So you take a shaky breath, you duck out of your hiding place, and you make for the sewage outlet.

She’s not there. It’s clear, and there’s a weight off your shoulders. The air is full of smoke, and your body aches, and she’s going to kill you if she finds you, but - she didn’t. She isn’t going to. And you’re half-way into the pipe when something snatches you by the back of the neck, and hauls you out.

There’s a burn on her cheek, shining a sickly green in the light. Her eyes are red, red as the cuffs around Wilcox’s wrist, and you’re twisting to swing a fist right in her face before you’ve even processed who you’re looking at.

It’s like punching a wall. You shriek, pulling away from her, curling your arm in on yourself, and she just sighs, shaking her head. There’s a thousand warning notes flashing in front of your eyes, wailing about damage, and the fangs of your prosthetic are sinking in, tighter and tighter, to try and fix it.

“Merci, ma sounis,” she scolds you. There’s soot on her nose. The edges of her hairs are burned black, frayed in the dark. “Hadn’t run, wouldn’t have chased, yeah? But you ran! And you broke things. Friend built ship! What supposed to say? Rebel blew it up? Shame on you.”

You want to say something witty. All that comes out is a snarl, instead, but all of your thrashing isn’t doing anything to free you: it’s like being held by iron, and the only result you get is an exasperated cluck. “Aah. How old you? Seven? Wilcox all wrong, wrong, wrong, shouldn’t be done. Should’ve known better. Bad enough, pulling guppies in.”

“Can no do nothing about guppies. But mice?” She shakes her head, sending the white locks flying. “Sorry,” she says, and maybe it’s even real. You don’t care. There’s brown crowding your eyes, blocked only by the way you keep blinking, and you - you don’t even know why you’re bothering, honestly. She’s going to cull you, and you don’t know what you’re going to do, and you didn’t tell Hadean, and you didn’t tell Pheres, and -

"Sorry,” she says again, and draws her hand back again. This time, you can’t exactly stop her, not with your prosthetic shattered. All you can do is thrash, but a heel to the gut doesn’t do anything - your leg bounces off of her psi like armor, and her grip is iron. Your hood falls back. All you can do is pin your ears back, and hiss.

(You’re going to die, and nobody is ever going to know.)

But when your hood falls, her face blanches. “Poivre?” she breathes, and then she takes a step back. A moment later, she seems to realise you’re still in her hand: she drops your collar, as quick as she’d snatched you up, and when you land on your feet, already staggering back, she doesn’t try to follow you.Her face’s as pale as her hair. Only for a moment, though, and then there’s green flooding her cheeks, all at once. Her hand falls. Your pumpbiscuit is pounding like a drum, too loud for you to make out more than the shapes of the words that she’s saying.But there’s a hand on her mouth, and when your hiss fades into a cough, wet and raspy even past the thump of your blood, just like that, something in her crumples.She doesn’t turn away from you. She just takes a step back, and then another, her eyes taking you in like she’s seeing you for the first time.You’re missing something, here. You should figure it out - but all you can think about is the outlet, right behind her. When you take a shaky step towards it, one hand on your throat, she doesn’t move. And even the second doesn’t illict a reaction.So you dive into the pipe, instead, and run.

#[drabbles]#sipara nzinga

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