#no i did not latch onto them at first sight how dare you assume that /j | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gweasleycore · 3 years

Text

pairing; werewolf!f.reader x boyfriends!wolfstar

word count; 5.5k words

warnings; sirius gets freaky in class, (f)masturbation, voyeurism, threesome, mxm, fingering, dom!female, remus is a Sub, sirius is a brat(who knew), penetrative sex, oral sex(m & f receiving), anal sex(m receiving), dirty talk, lots of cursing, again the word length is used (i'm sorry i couldn't use cock every time & dick makes me uncomfy), Lots of praising remus (he is baby & he loves)

a/n; though they're in hogwarts, you can assume that all parties involved are 18+. now, here's a wolfstar threesome no one asked for bc i flip flop between the two of them like a fish out of water & it wasn't until last night the little idea man in my brain said "why not both"

☆☆☆☆☆

"afternoon boys, something you need?" you asked the two boys sat across from you in the great hall, not taking your eyes off your book.

"how'd you know it was us?" sirius asked, glancing over at his boyfriend who was less than shocked.

"i could smell your cologne from the moment you walked into the room." you said dully, making remus stifle a laugh as sirius rolled his eyes.

"whatever," he mumbled under his breath, brushing off his shirt like it would tone down the scent at all. "we were planning to skip our last class, thought you might join us."

you looked up at sirius through your lashes, your brow quirking upwards. you weren't shocked by his suggestive tone, truthfully he only ever wore that god awful cologne when he was hoping to get some. tonight was also right between full moons which happened to be when both you and remus were at your most physically stable.

"i'm reading padfoot," you said, holding your book up, "you interrupted my reading time to proposition me?" you tutted, shaking your head as you closed your book. "i expect something like this from him moony, but you too? shame, tonight could've been so much fun for all of us."

remus gulped under your gaze, your tone daring him to look away, something he knew much better than to do.

"so, is that a yes?" sirius asked earning an elbow to the ribs from his boyfriend.

"sorry pads, afraid not." you said, standing up to leave before you called over your shoulder, "have fun thinking of me tonight."

sirius sat with a shit eating grin on his face while remus looked positively shattered.

"what are you smiling about? she turned us down!" remus said, shoving sirius lightly, "i told you we should've waited."

"oh moony," sirius said, pushing back a strand of hair on remus's forehead making the younger boy glance around nervously, "do you not know her at all by now? that was so clearly a challenge."

"how in merlin's name was that a challenge, she flat out said no." remus said, pulling sirius's hand from his neck as his touch was setting his skin alight and he did not fancy getting hard in the middle of the great hall.

"don't you worry your pretty little head, just leave it to me." sirius said, standing up, pulling remus along with him.

"i don't think i like that idea." remus said but allowed sirius to drag him to their next class, one they shared with you.

the two of them sat in their usual spot at the back of the class. sirius took the seat next to you, remus next to him. this was perfect, sirius thought, it was just the three of you to a row and on both yours and remus' side the wooden desk blocked your legs from view, giving sirius tons of possibilities.

sirius waited for the class to start before he put his plan into action. remus had been unassuming when he felt sirius's hand on his thigh, it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, but when the palm of his hand inched higher remus felt his breath hitch.

remus looked over at his boyfriend with wide eyes. sirius smirked and gestured with his eyes in your direction, signaling that this was apart of the plan. remus was unsure, but he'd never been very good at rejecting his pretty boyfriend, so he nodded reluctantly and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk.

sirius focused on remus for a moment, teasing him before he finally started rubbing his already growing bulge. he'd almost gotten too wrapped up in the way remus's face twisted and his hips squirmed in the seat, but then he heard you shift next to him and he was reminded of the plan.

leaning back sirius kept his hand on remus, not slowing on his work there, and looked over at you to, unsurprisingly, find you already watching them. sirius smirked at your flustered appearance, your lip pulled between your teeth. sirius leaned over to you, breaking your trance and snapping you back into reality as he whispered in your ear,

"doesn't he look so cute trying to hold in his moans like that?" he asked you, deciding to go for your weakness for remus first. sirius always had been one for starting strong. your eyes raked up to remus's face that was being half covered by his large hands to muffle any moans that managed to escape his lips.

your thighs rubbed together involuntarily as you watched him, he truly was so pretty, you thought. you jumped when you felt sirius's free hand fall between your thighs, somehow slithering its way in enough to pry them apart. he looked over at you to make sure you were okay with this, and was met with both desire and anger. sirius knew you liked to be the one in charge, he'd always been quite a challenge for you. smirking, sirius trailed his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips passing the hem of your skirt with an eyebrow raised, like he was waiting for you to stop him even though he knew you wouldn't.

his smug grin only grew when he reached his destination and he began rubbing you over your panties. satisfied with himself sirius tilted his head back to look at remus who was an absolute mess his eyes locked on sirius's hand disappeared underneath your skirt. in that moment remus wished he had X-ray vision and he only hoped this would convince you to join them later that night.

☆☆☆☆☆

"i bet you boys think you're pretty clever, pulling that stunt in charms." you said as you pushed remus down onto the bed, turning to grab sirius, who had his lips latched onto your neck from behind, by the collar.

"it got you here didn't it?" sirius asked smugly and you practically growled, forcing him down across the foot of the bed. you crawled on top of him, straddling his waist as you gripped his throat.

"it seems the two of you have forgotten who exactly is in charge here." you said, not taking your eyes off sirius, determination boiling in the pit of your stomach to remind him just who he was dealing with. "why don't you join your boyfriend up there?"

your words were less of a suggestion and more of a command as you nodded at remus who was sat against the headboard of sirius's bed, shirtless and waiting patently with his lip between his teeth. you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him, reminding yourself you were meant to be punishing him.

sirius complied, smiling at remus as he climbed up next to him. he reached out to kiss his boyfriend and you smacked him harshly on the leg.

"no touching." you snapped. remus whimpered at this, but sirius only smirked, putting his hands up in surrender. truthfully, he liked being pushed around by you, but from time to time he liked to challenge you, make you mad, he often enjoyed the punishments you dished out for him. sirius truly was a brat at heart and he couldn't help but push back occasionally, unlike his very adorable boyfriend who lived to submit. maybe this was why you found yourself so fond of your fellow werewolf.

you stood from the bed, pulling your wand from the inside of your robes and mumbled both muffliato and colloportus just in case, though you were pretty sure james and peter both knew not to interrupt.

you turned back to face the two boys, tossing your wand onto remus's bed, along with your robes. slowly you began to unbutton your white collared shirt and you watched as sirius kept his cool while remus followed your hands eagerly.

you'd never admit it to him, but you enjoyed the dynamic between you and sirius. of course remus was everything you liked in a partner, sirius did have a way of challenging you without ever going too far.

after throwing your shirt onto the growing pile of clothes on remus's bed you climbed up onto the end of the bed, sitting on your knees in between their outstretched legs.

"i wonder what i should do with the two of you." you thought aloud, looking between the two of them as you pretended to search for an idea. you smiled widely, as if you'd just thought of something and you propped yourself back up against the post on the end of sirius's bed.

you trailed your hands from the back of your neck, down to your covered breasts before you reached around to free them from your light pink lace bra. you took the garment and flung it up at sirius who caught it easily, rolling his eyes at you before tossing it off to the side. you focused your touch on your breasts for a moment, pushing them together and flicking over your nipples, making yourself moan lightly.

you locked eyes with remus as you ran your hands down your stomach and over the tops of your thighs, making a show of spreading them open to reveal your clothed core. remus gulped as he kept eye contact with you, silently hoping you'd let him look, even if only for a moment. you smirked at him, satisfied with his efforts and nodded trying not to chuckle when his eyes immediately snapped between your legs.

you pulled your skirt up further to make sure they cold see before you ran your hands up your thighs to your panties. you kept one hand placed on your thigh, holding it open as your other hand dipped below your panties. you trailed your fingers along your slit carefully before you pushed past your lips, gathering up some of your wetness and trailing it up to your clit. you bit your lip and let your head fall back against the post behind you, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of your fingers circling your clit.

"come on, y/n," sirius said, his voice a bit groggy, making you smile to yourself, "at least take the panties off so we can see."

you looked up at him, glancing down to see his cock straining against his black trousers. you smirked, shaking your head slightly. not breaking eye contact with him you pushed a finger inside yourself, letting your mouth fall open dramatically as your eyes rolled back. you heard him let out a sharp breath, but nothing more. you smiled as you continued to finger yourself, though admittedly you were restrained a bit by your panties.

you looked over at remus who's lip was surely on the verge of bleeding from the tight grip his teeth had on it and his eyes were watery. his eyes had not left your movements and you felt yourself pitying him when you saw how tight his pants had gotten.

"moony," you crooned, catching his gaze, his eyes full of desperation "how much of that little stunt earlier was your idea?"

remus's mouth fell open slightly and he started to look over at sirius before you stopped him, commanding him to answer you himself.

"it, well i guess none of it was my idea." he said quietly, almost guiltily as he had a feeling you were about to shift the punishment onto sirius solely.

"hmm, i had a feeling." you said, looking over at sirius who seemed to see where this was going. there was a part of him that wanted to protest, the desire to be touched even if he had to do it himself growing. but there was a bigger part that wanted to see how long you'd make him hold out, if you'd give him any kind of relief at all or if he was going to be left to finish himself off in the shower later that night.

"i don't suppose it's very fair of me to punish the whole class when there's only one perpetrator, what about you sirius?" you asked, his smile growing a bit.

"no, you're absolutely right." he said, looking from you to remus who looked both excited and guilty at the same time.

without a word you climbed up the bed, your hands trailing up remus's thighs before you stopped, your knees bent as you sat right between his legs.

"hi, pretty boy." you said sweetly, pushing a hand through his hair that had started to stick to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

"hi." he said, a soft smile breaking out across his face as he looked up at you.

"you gonna be good for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer. he nodded eagerly making you smile at him as you leaned down to kiss him. remus's breathing quickened as you trailed kisses from his jaw down his bare chest all the way to his trousers. you looked up at him as you kissed from the top of his covered bulge down to the bottom, then shifted your eyes to sirius who was watching with dark eyes as you licked back up all the way to the waistband of remus's pants. remus shuddered underneath you, pulling your attention back to him.

you undid the button of remus's trousers, helping him pull them off along with his boxers, leaving him completely undressed under you. you smiled up at him sweetly as you took his heavy cock in your hand, licking up the length of it slowly before taking him in your mouth.

remus was quite large and you couldn't quite fit all of him in your mouth. he was thick, and his length was more than satisfactory. compared to sirius he did look a bit shorter, but while sirius was longer he wasn't quite as thick as remus.

remus moaned beneath you as you pushed your head as far down as you could, letting your drool coat the base of his cock as you stroked what wouldn't fit with your hand.

at that, you pulled off of him shushing his whimpers of protest as you leaned over to sirius who was watching the two of you with lust and pain mixing in his eyes. you let your mouth hover over his, pulling back slightly when he tried to meet yours before finally crashing your lips together. you swirled your tongue around with his, letting him taste his boyfriend on your tongue before you pulled back.

"why don't you get out of those? looks awfully painful." you said, gesturing downwards at his trousers. sirius didn't have the energy to quip back, instead he eagerly did as you said, pulling his trousers and boxers off and throwing them across the room. you smiled as you moved back over to remus, finding his eyes on his newly naked boyfriend. you couldn't blame him, sirius was quite pretty.

still, you wanted his attention on you. you took remus's hands in yours, putting one on your hip and one at the waistband of your panties underneath your skirt. eagerly, remus pulled your panties down your legs before his fingers rubbed against your slit, his eyes widening at how wet you were. you pushed yourself down further into his hand, moaning softly as his fingers grazed your clit.

"go on moony, get me ready for that pretty cock of yours." you urged, making his eyes go wide. he pushed one finger into you, your own fingering from earlier plus the amount of arousal making it an easy fit. remus pumped in and out of you a few times before adding another finger and pushing his palm up to rub against your clit.

you pulled up your skirt as you moaned, giving sirius a clear view. you moaned as remus added a third finger, his palm being replaced by the thumb on his free hand. you looked down at him through hooded eyes and felt sparks in your chest to find him already watching you, his eyes wide and hopeful like he wanted you to praise him. you smiled at him and grabbed his hand, making him stop. you leaned down to kiss the sudden frown away.

"if you keep going like that you'll make me cum," you said into his lips, smiling as he sucked in a breath, "and i want to cum around your cock, if that's okay with you?"

remus nodded eagerly, making you laugh. he really was so cute. you reached back to unzip your skirt, pulling it off before straddling remus's hips, positioning yourself over his cock. you let him line himself up to your entrance and slowly you sat down, hissing as no preparation could really prepare you for his size. remus gripped your hips tightly, taking in the feeling of your velvety walls around him, you always were so tight.

the two of you were a moaning mess by the time you managed to sit all the way down on him. you could feel him twitching inside you and it made you shiver, you wished you could feel like this all the time.

looking over at sirius who had his eyes glued to your connected bodies you whistled at him, catching his gaze. his eyes were filled with desperation as you smiled, almost satisfied enough to let him enjoy himself, almost, but not quite. you placed your hands on remus's shoulders as you slowly started to glide up and down his length. without breaking eye contact with sirius you leaned down to kiss remus, muffling the moans leaving his throat.

"remus baby, look at pads, do you think he's learned his lesson?" you asked, smiling teasingly at sirius who's eyes had lit up with hope.

"truthfully, yn, i don't think sirius will ever fully learn his lesson, but i think for today maybe yes." remus said, his voice wavering as your bouncing did not falter in the slightest.

"hmm, i suppose you can touch him then, if you want." you said, placing a quick kiss to remus's lips before pulling one of his hands from your hip. remus looked over at sirius who quickly nodded, taking remus's hand from your hip and wrapping it around his cock with a deep groan.

remus stroked sirius slowly, gradually quickening his pace to match your bouncing on his cock. sirius looked over at you as relief filled his eyes and you smiled. you could tell though that remus's hand would not be enough for sirius with how worked up he'd gotten, you took the opportunity to mess with him some more.

"what is it sirius? you like watching me fuck your boyfriend like this while you just get his hand?" you asked, slowing your pace as you rolled your hips every time you descended, leaving remus a moaning mess.

"fuck, please princess, you know i need more." sirius said, bucking his hips up into remus's hand.

"you might," you said, leaning back to give both he and remus a better view of his cock sliding in and out, "but do you deserve more?"

"yes!" he called, throwing his head back, "i do, i've been good ever since we got in here. i listened! i did't touch myself or you or remus! please, yn, it hurts so bad."

you looked down at remus who looked up at you pleadingly, this was all the convincing you needed. you nodded, pulling off of remus slowly, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. you made your way up between sirius's legs, pulling remus along with you so you both were face to face with sirius's aching cock.

taking the lead you trailed your tongue up from the base to the head, taking him in your mouth without teasing, you figured you'd done enough of that already. sirius moaned deeply and you felt him twitch in your mouth. you pulled back with a pop, ignoring sirius's protests as you pushed remus's head down, guiding him until he moved on his own. you watched him as you gripped his hair. you looked up at sirius who was watching the two of you and smiled,

"doesn't he look so pretty, pads, with his mouth stuffed full?" you asked, "doing such a good job for you."

"fuck, yes, always." sirius said, putting his hand over yours, lacing his own fingers through remus's hair. you could see the growing blush on remus's face at the praise. you had the sudden urge to kiss him, so you pulled his head back and did just that. you then pulled his head down so that both of your mouths were on sirius's dick, making him moan at the feeling of both of your tongues on him.

pulling back you smiled at both boys before lying back flat against the bed. they both watched as you dipped your fingers into your heat, biting your lip and waiting to see which one would move first. you were surprised when remus fell in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs as he placed soft kisses along them. sirius smirked from behind him, seemingly proud of his boyfriends boldness.

"leaving me out again are we?" sirius asked, leaning to the side to watch remus trail kisses up to your vulva before he licked a hard stripe up your soaking core. you tilted your head back and moaned, your hand lacing through remus's messy hair. "i'm beginning to think the two of you like each other more than either of you like me."

remus ignored this, sticking his tongue inside you and sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

"your boyfriends got his ass pointed right at you and all you can think about is your own jealousy?" you teased, your body shaking when remus laughed, his tongue acting as a vibrator.

"well when my boyfriends giving you the best head of your life and i still haven't got to fuck either of you it's hard not to get a little jealous." sirius said, though he didn't sound like he was actually hurt.

"then why don't you stop talking and fuck me?" remus asked making both you and sirius go wide eyed.

"look what you've done to our baby, sirius! you made him bratty!" you said, gripping his hair tightly as sirius smacked him on the ass. remus moaned loudly, pushing his hips back into sirius's as you pushed his head back down onto your heat.

"no princess i think it's you that made him bratty. moony never gets snippy unless he has to wait for me to fuck him, you're the one that wouldn't let me touch my pretty boy." sirius said, rubbing his hands up the backs of remus's thighs as he spoke.

"is our baby boy getting impatient?" you asked sweetly, pulling remus's head back off of you. you admired the way his lips glistened with your arousal as he nodded, a clear pout on his lips. "poor thing,"

you pulled him up so that he was hovering above you before you kissed him, licking all traces of your arousal off his lips. you could feel sirius climbing up between yours and remus's legs, and you heard the familiar sound of a bottle snapping open.

remus moaned into your lips and his hips fell into yours as sirius rubbed his lubed up fingers around remus's hole. you moaned beneath him as his heavy cock brushed between your folds, the unexpected friction sending shockwaves through your body.

"remus?" you said softly. he opened his eyes that he hadn't even realized were closed and caught your hazy gaze, "will you fuck me please?"

he did not need to be asked twice. remus dipped his fingers between your legs, gathering some of your wetness and coated his cock before pushing himself into you slowly. between the feeling of your walls wrapped so tightly around him and sirius's fingers working to stretch him out, remus was sure he would not last.

you both cursed when his hips finally met yours, this angle letting him in deeper than he had been before. behind him sirius was lining himself up to remus's entrance, placing soft kisses to his shoulder as he pushed in slowly.

remus fell forward completely lying on top of you as sirius worked his way in. you moaned loudly at the new feeling, though you felt like you were being crushed remus was pushed all the way into you, and with every move of sirius's hips remus's cock was grazing your sweet spot ever so slightly.

"fuck, please i need more." you whined, your voice and your words not sounding like your own. remus sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he tried to move his hips into yours but couldn't as sirius had him trapped.

"god you sound so sweet begging like that, princess." sirius said, pushing into remus faster in an attempt to relieve some of your pressure.

you shook your head with your eyes shut tight, it wasn't enough. you could feel remus twitch inside you and you knew he was getting close. reaching back around him you pushed his lower back further into your stomach, forcing him to arch his back further, giving sirius a deeper angle.

"oh fuck, fuck i'm gonna cum." remus said into your shoulder, his hips shaking as he tried to push his hips down into yours and back against sirius's.

"go ahead baby boy, you've done so good, cum for us." you said softly, brushing back remus's hair as you spoke. you felt him release inside you as he let out a string of shaky moans along with both yours and sirius's name.

"such a good boy," sirius said, slowing his pace as he rubbed his hands over remus's ass and up his back.

sirius pulled out slowly before he helped remus off of you, both you and him groaning in pain. sirius laid remus down next to you, kissing him sweetly. you watched the moment with a smile before sirius glanced your way.

"you mind if i finish y/n off?" sirius asked, looking back down at remus who's eyes went wide as he realized you hadn't finished.

"don't worry about me, i can take care of it myself." you said, ready to get up so they could have their alone time.

"no!" remus called, grabbing your wrist, "you've been so good to us, please let him. besides, he hasn't finished either."

you glanced over at sirius, watching him for a moment as you contemplated. you three had done this a few times before, but still never once had sirius fucked you. it had only been you and remus. you weren't even entirely sure why they'd asked you to join them in the first place, aside from the fact that you knew they were both bi and you and remus had been each other's firsts.

at the reminder of this memory, you looked to remus who was watching you hopefully, his lip tugged between his teeth absentmindedly as he waited for your response.

"okay," you said, looking back up at sirius, "okay, yeah."

sirius grinned, climbing over top of you as he spoke, "i knew you couldn't resist me."

you rolled your eyes before hooking your feet around his thighs, pulling his hips into yours. he slipped in easily, and you could instantly tell a difference in the two boys. remus stretched you out more but sirius went in deeper. both felt like heaven inside you and you wondered how you'd ever get your fill.

"fuck, how are you still so tight?" sirius wondered aloud, starting with a quicker pace than what remus usually set to begin with. you might've complained had you not been thoroughly prepped by remus already.

"merlin, now i see why you can't stay away from her moony, she does look good like this." sirius said pushing your thighs out flat as he pounded into you making you moan loudly at how deep he was hitting.

"fuck, sirius, you feel so good." you moaned, letting go of all hesitation now that he was making you feel this good. sirius smiled above you in satisfaction and you could feel remus's hands dancing along your shoulder before he reached your breasts, toying with your nipples as sirius fucked you.

"fuck, are you close princess? i feel you tightening up already." sirius asked, pulling one of remus's hands down to rub your clit.

"oh fuck, yes please, right there." you said, not sure which one you were even talking to. sirius was pounding into you hitting just the right spot repeatedly as remus was rubbing your clit at just the right speed. you felt your release wash over you like a cold blanket, your pleasure more intense than you'd ever felt before. you heard sirius and remus both curse before sirius pulled out and you felt his release hit your stomach. you frowned a bit, disappointed that he hadn't finished inside you.

when you opened your eyes you realized why he hadn't and your eyes widened.

"fuck, yn, i didn't know you could do that." remus said, staring down at sirius's torso that was glistening with your release.

"we have to make you do that again." sirius said eagerly, and if you didn't know better you'd say he meant right then.

"not now, pads, give her some time to rest. we can do it next time." remus said, pulling your head into his lap as he brushed your hair out of your face, nodding for sirius to go get something to clean you up.

"next time?" you asked, your voice quiet and reserved despite the fact that you were lying in their bed, naked. even though this was not a first occurrence you never really thought there had been much planning to it. you just assumed that every now and then they'd get in the mood to have a girl present and you happened to be available.

"well, yeah," remus said carefully, not wanting to overstep, "we were hoping this could be a thing."

"what my adorably awkward boyfriend is trying to say," sirius said, walking in with a wet wash rag, "is that we really enjoy doing this with you and we'd like to keep doing so, maybe more often if you're interested."

"i'm not sure if i completely understand,"

"i know the two of you have feelings for each other," sirius said, cutting to the chase. at his words you snapped your mouth shut, not daring to look at either one of them, "it's okay, i know they were already there when we got together."

"we want to keep having these moments with you," remus said pulling you up to look at him, "but we also want other kinds of moments too, like, cute ones."

"i meant cute ones with our clothes on." he said.

"yeah like this one, you two look pretty adorable like that all naked and close." sirius said, a smirk on his lips. remus glared at him before looking back at you.

"i meant cute ones with our clothes on." he said.

"so you're asking me to," you trailed off, looking between the two of them, unsure if you were understanding.

"to date us, basically." sirius said nonchalantly.

your mouth fell open as you looked at remus, you two had been friends for quite a while and even though you'd been each other's firsts you never actually dated. so to hear that he wanted that from you, it honestly made your heart flutter. it was no secret you'd been in love with him for some time now.

your face broke out in a smile before you pulled his face to yours, kissing him. remus smiled into the kiss, loving the feeling of your hands on his face and your lips on his.

"hey, don't leave me," sirius's words were cut off by you pulling him in by the back of the neck, kissing him the same way you'd kissed remus. you could feel remus's smile grow against your hand on his face and you pulled back, pushing the two boys together for a kiss of their own.

"so," sirius trailed off, looking from remus to you, "is that a yes?"

you rolled your eyes as remus laughed. the three of you lied there together throughout dinner, cuddling and talking. later on you’d all sneak into the kitchens where you’d then have to find somewhere to stop for the three of you to continue where you left off, and your two boyfriends would definitely make good on their earlier promise.

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taglist: @padfootswife

#wolfstar x reader #wolfstar smut #wolfstar x reader smut #wolfstar #marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders x reader smut #marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

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haikyuuu-r-us · 4 years

Note

Erm okay so I don't usually do asks fr like that but may I please ask Alpha waka and omega reader. I saw you did omegaverse idk but yeah. Maybe fluff it not idk whatever works with you 🥺🥺👉🏽👈🏽🥺😳

Pt.2: https://haikyuuu-r-us.tumblr.com/post/625551637967175680/unofficial-game-alpha-ushijima-wakatoshi-x

Hell yeah, I do omegaverse, girl that's my JAAAM thanks for asking! <3

Edit: This is now titled- 'Unofficial Game' and this is pt. 1 ❤️

- Its no surprise that Ushijima Wakatoshi of Shiratorizawa was an incredible alpha. He was agile and strong. He was the Ace and also the Captain of his team.

- He was an Alpha.

- His team was highly regarded and respected. His team respected him highly. By some, he was considered a prodigy.

- Every move he made was calculated to bring him closer to his goal, no distractions allowed.

- He had a goal and he was hell-bent on reaching it.

-It's no surprise to your fellow students to find that you were an omega. You were rather meek and shy. You kept to yourself on the best of days and purposefully isolated yourself on worse ones.

- You were an omega.

- You had few friends though none went to school here. You were accepted into the school due to exceptional grades and recommendations. The school was seeking to expand into the arts, and in that aspect, you were an excellent starting point.

- You won medals in competitions. Never landing below third. You never cared for your medals. In your eyes, it was all subjective. Not to mention you had never been extremely competitive anyhow.

- you only desired to see your skills grow and to inspire others to follow their own dreams.

Essentially, the two of you never should have met, be in any sort of friendship let alone a relationship. The differences were too large, the first years would say. If only they were privy to how you met.

"Wah?? So you're the new transfer student?" You glanced up from the hallways tiled flooring to search for the voice. When he waved at you and began to jog towards you with a lazy grin marking his features, you slunk back into your oversized school jacket.

"Yeah...uhm, haha, that's me." You tucked your hair behind your ear nervously. 'He's an alpha.' Although his scent was a weird one, you found his constant seeking you out every morning just to say hi rather endearing. It'd be lying to say you didn't form an itty bitty crush on him at the beginning of your friendship.

As time went on he became your guide, and a strong brother-like figure to you, showing you parts of the school you had been too nervous to explore by yourself and encouraging you to take pictures when you asked if it was allowed. You were inspired by what you were seeing, you absolutely had to have a reference for later. He continued to guide you, most definitely spinning false and grandeur stories about how each place came to be. He didn't need to be right, it made you laugh and it kept you interested; You stayed interested even when you got to how the gym was built by angels who deemed volleyball a holy sport above all others.

"Liar." You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand as tears sprang to your eyes at his overdramatic antics. "WHAT? Omega-chaaan! I would never, E V E R! Lie to you!" He shook his head furiously and wagged a finger in your face. He was about to start again but a calm voice interrupted.

"Oh, there you are. Coach wants to start early with practice." The beta had blonde hair and a bored look on his face.

"Aw, what? That’s bull- wah! Omega-chan come watch me practice!" He cried waving his arms frantically as you thought it over.

"I dunno," you eyed the beta male wearily.

"It's perfect yeah? See, you can practice the Anatoly of us while we play!"

"I think you mean anatomy-"

"Yeah, same thing!"

"I don't even know what that other thing is- stop pushing I'm going, 'Tori!"

He ushered you in and motioned towards the bleachers. He was right you supposed. This would be a good way to practice.

At you were good at being a wallflower and despite the beta male who ignored your presence, you found yourself comfortable knowing that Tendou would step in should someone give you any issues.

Wakatoshi stretched quietly in the changing room. Nodding silently at Tendou when he entered and quickly, as though someone was going to give him a medal, stripped himself of his school uniform and into slightly more comfortable training clothes. He was being sloppy and nearly tripping when he pulled his shorts up.

His brow quirked down but he said nothing, figuring it was more nonsense from the Guess Monster.

He left the changing room and just as he began to walk over to the storage closet to grab the volleyballs, a new scent filled his senses. Though unnoticed to himself and the other Alpha and betas around him, his pupils dilated ever so slightly.

His head turned from the handle of the closet to assess the gym. There was an omega here. He could smell her. Somewhere, he raked his gaze across the room and a slight shift of fingers was all it took to have his gaze latch onto you like a magnet to a fridge.

Your form was small. Knees up to your chest with a book resting on top of them. A pencil clenched in between your fingers. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your chosen seat was high up in the bleachers, hidden ever so slightly behind support that jutted out of the wall.

He breathed in your scent slowly, allowing the warm sweet scent to roll over his palette. His pupils dilated and adjusted, connecting the sight of you to your soothing scent.

Omega.

He didn't realize he was making his way closer to you until his body was faced with the prospect of climbing up the bleachers. This time when his gaze landed on you, wide, doe-like orbs stared back. Quickly almost fearfully, your body tensed and you looked away.

Knows her place.

He narrowed his gaze in a challenging way. Who let you into the gym? Omegas were most definitely not allowed at any other time than official games. They potentially could be major distractions at the very least. You shifted nervously, and your fingers flipped through a few pages.

Her fingers were shaking.

"Ne~Omega-chan you have to watch!"

Of course, it had been Tendou. Of course, he would let in an omega.

He turned away, ignoring your presence, for now, Tendou would cause mayhem otherwise, especially if he thought you'd be forced to leave.

The game went well. In fact, Tendou was most definitely showing off the entire time, calling out for your praise and attention.

Though he didn't find himself drowning in curiosity, he still listened closely when Semi asked Tendou about the shy omega.

"That your omega, 'Tori?" That was a new nickname.

"Nah, she’s my friend! She's shy and stuff so I don't think she had anyone else. She looked lonely so ' voila '!"

"You're supposed to form friendships through common interests and tastes-"

Tendou stared in confusion. Semi sighed and rubbed his temples. Reon and Goshiki piped up out of curiosity helping to explain exactly what Semi meant.

Lakatos didn't bother to hear the rest. Instead, he went to join the first years in the gym, supervising them to ensure they didn’t fool around instead of cleaning. While they scrambled to gather everything up he searched for the omega, despite her lingering scent, he saw nothing. Then again, before he could complete his scan, a volleyball rolled and bumped into his ankle.

He kneeled and picked it up, testing the pressure in his hands. He was about to toss the ball back to the first year who dropped it, but he caught sight of you from his peripheral, and before he even fully realized why his inner alpha commanded him to do it, he found himself lining up to set.

Throw. Run. Jump. Slam the ball. Hard. Harder than needed. Put force into it. Strongest Alpha. The strongest.

His knees bent when he landed. The echo of the ball landing was still reverberating throughout the gym, the air was thick with unknown tension and no first-year dared to speak. The ball slowly rolled back towards him, and once more he picked it up. Except for this time he turned and handed the ball to the kid that dropped it. Instinctually his gaze searched for your face among the first years who know were shutting everything down.

You were looking at him too. The moment he locked eyes with your own, you shot your gaze downwards to stare at your feet.

She's respectful.

Slowly and shakily staring at the other third years locking up, you gave a weak chuckle and muttered softly, "uhm, so I'm assuming you're the captain?"

The moment you shifted your gaze back his spine straightened further and his chest puffed out slightly. Unnoticeable to anyone but himself. You were... Affecting him.

"Indeed." His eyes drifted across your form. He was never one to really notice omegas despite being an Alpha male himself and having plenty of fangirls, he never really, truly noticed any of them. He especially never bothered to assess their form like he was currently doing to you. His eyes slid to your face again, watching as your lips moved as you spoke, the words barely processing.

Her scent.

After receiving no answer to Tendou's whereabouts you glanced at his face again, though with more caution this time.

Her eyes.

Little did you know, the way your eyes peeked at him beneath your lashes, the way your brows pinched together and especially the way your lips parted in concern, all were sending his Alpha into a tailspin. His heart began to steadily beat faster, the same tempo would beat before a good matchup.

It was only the snicker from his right-hand side that brought him out of it.

Tendou.

"Don't worry about him omega-chan! He's just dense." You laughed nervously attempted to shift the attention back to Tendou instead of yourself.

That's right, you were there for Tendou.

He realized late that night, before he went to bed, that the real reason his Alpha demanded that one spike, the real reason his adrenaline couldn't seem to leave him be, even hours later, that his Alpha was proving to you, convincing you really, he, Waktoshi Ushijima, was the strongest. He was the captain. The Ace. His breaths picked up slightly when he recalled the way your lips formed the word 'captain'.

All he knew now was that he wanted you to call him 'alpha' next.

(Looks like I got a bit carried away with this one lol)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima hcs #xreader #haikyuuxreader #omegaverse #haikyuu omegaverse #Alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alphawakatoshi #omega reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics x reader #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/omega #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Text

Stuck

My entry for @levihan-drabbles Smut Sunday event! My prompt this time was "Hange, why are you stuck there?". I might have gotten a little carried away, so this is uh...on the long side, but please enjoy anyway!

Warnings: dubious consent, if you squint. Explicit consent talks, too, but if that kind of thing makes you uncomfortable please be careful!

Her toes barely scraped the floor. The ladder had fallen too far away for her to reach, and without the use of her legs, Hange couldn't find purchase on anything to pull herself out of the loop.

She was stuck. In a trap for titans.

By all counts, Hange was having a terrible day.

She had been late to the morning's budget report, too wrapped up in her research notes and the blueprints for her new titan trap to notice the time. Erwin had chewed her out thoroughly for her tardiness, and, to add insult to injury, had denied her request for new materials to build the trap. She had argued as vehemently as she dared that the materials were a necessity in ensuring the sturdiness of the improved design and that, built correctly, the new apparatus would reduce risk to their soldiers by over 50%. Despite her best efforts, Erwin had been resolute in his rejection.

She had also missed breakfast. After the meeting, incensed by Erwin's refusal, she had taken straight to her lab to revamp the design, ignorant of the time until well past 10am. Breakfast had been cleared long before the growling of her stomach pulled her out of her focused scribbling.

And then she had spilled a cold mug of tea, who knows how old, onto her research notes from the last experiments. The dark liquid sank into the fabric and blurred the ink faster than Hange could react, leaving every scrawled graph and table and footnote completely illegible.

Hange should have known, then, with her run of luck, that today was not a day to take risks. She should have anticipated that more would go wrong, that something disastrous might happen. But each instance had only served to anger her further, and Hange felt resolved to solve something. To get one thing right.

Starting with the titan trap was evidently a mistake.

It was a risk to try toying with the thing all alone at the best of times. Clunky chains and thick, heavy ropes, intricately looped and knotted for strength, cross-hatched to make them more structurally sound. Hange was up on her ladder with her torso threaded through one of the giant loops, stomach braced on the rope as she leaned over to adjust the bolts in one of the chains, when part of the structure gave an ominous creak. Something, somewhere, snapped with a crack, and Hange's foot slipped off the ladder.

The ground rushed up to meet her. Hange braced herself for impact, but a few feet from the floor, she jerked abruptly to a stop. The rope punched roughly into her stomach, knocking the air out of her. She took a second, gasping, to catch her breath.

In a stroke of uncharacteristic luck, Hange had chosen to wear her goggles while working. Her glasses, she knew, would have fallen from her face and shattered to pieces. Another expense for Erwin to pay. Luckily, her goggles held firm--no extra cost for the Scouts, and wonderfully clear vision to take in the remains of the trap.

As it stands, she'd gotten very lucky indeed. A section of rope had snagged on one of the hooks on the wall, breaking her fall. Her stomach felt tender, and would no doubt bruise horribly, but she could only be thankful that it wasn't worse.

Now, though, she had a problem.

Her toes barely scraped the floor. The ladder had fallen too far away for her to reach, and without the use of her legs, Hange couldn't find purchase on anything to pull herself out of the loop.

She was stuck. In a trap for titans.

Hange let herself hang over the rope and puffed her hair out of his face. The lab was out of the way, no chance of anyone incidentally passing by—it would be a waste of energy to try calling for help. All she could do was hang here and wait until someone—Moblit, probably—came searching for her.

She hung there for what felt like a lifetime. The rope had been plenty uncomfortable in the beginning, but had long since become painful. She was desperately considering her possibilities for the millionth time, when she heard the sound of feet stomping in the corridor outside, and the door abruptly burst open.

"Oi, shitty glasses, you missed lu—"

Levi stopped short. The click of his boots scuffed to a halt. His fingers slipped off the door handle, the hinges squeaking loud in the otherwise silence. The click of the latch rang as loud as a gunshot.

Hange waved a hand. "Yo, Levi. A little help?"

"The hell are you doing?"

"There was an incident. It's not important—can you help me down?"

Levi, overcoming his surprise, managed to take a few more slow steps into the room. He walked a full circle around her, ducking rope and stepping over loose chains, taking in the sight with the same scrutiny he examines bookshelves for dust.

"This," he announced, after completing his examination, "is fucking ridiculous."

"It's not my finest moment," she conceded.

"What even is this shit?" Levi touched the rope, running his palm over it. His voice sounded a little distant, contemplative. Hange didn't for one second entertain the idea that he was curious about the mechanics of her titan trap, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was that intrigued him.

"Does it matter? As you can well see, I need some help."

Levi hummed. He gripped the rope a little harder, followed it down to where it was digging into her waist. He gave it a little tug; Hange coughed out a breath when the movement jostled her. She suspected that Levi was trying to figure out how exactly she had gotten stuck. When his gaze travelled up to the hook, she assumed she was correct, and hoped that, armed with this knowledge, he might try freeing her. He stepped a little further behind her, out her direct line of sight. Hange waited impatiently for him to help get her out of the trap.

But then, he did something Hange hadn't expected him to do at all.

He touched her leg.

To an outsider, it might have been an innocent thing. Something designed to soothe, maybe; nothing more or less than the simple touch of one's palm to another's thigh.

But Hange knew Levi. Hange knew that Levi was not one for casual touch. There were very few instances in which Levi touched anyone, and most were unfavourable--upon grievous injury, commonly, or else holding a comrades hand when death comes calling. But there is one other occasion in which Levi will touch her, at least. One other scenario where his hand might find itself on her leg, or her hip, or her waist. Up her shirt. Down her pants.

It's not all that often. Maybe a dozen times, give or take, over the years they've known one another. But it follows a very strict pattern: they have a shitty day. They drink. They get too close. They drink some more. Smoke, maybe, if they've ventured to a bar where they can snag a cigarette to share. Drink again, though at some point they give up ordering their own, and start passing the same goblet back and forth. Levi's leg will nudge up against hers. Hange leans heavily into him. She blames it on the drink, giggles a half assed apology into his ear. He lets her. They search for somewhere private—their quarters, if they're patient enough. Close enough. A back alley has done fine on more than one occasion.

And then, they fuck.

Sex, Hange had once thought, was a rather romantic notion. Two becoming one and all that. Something couples did, an act of feeling so absolute, so all-encompassing, that making love was the only way to truly express it. Older, and wiser, Hange knows now that sex can be many different things. Sex can be romantic, but it can also be rough, animalistic. Sex can come from frustration, from desperation, from an itchy beneath the skin that nothing else will scratch. Sex with Levi, more often than not comes from anger and sadness and manifests in a clash of lips, grabbing, yanking hands, the sharp bite of teeth. It comes from a desire to do something, anything, to relieve the helpless, hopeless feeling when they've done all that they could and somehow, it still isn't enough. A guilty, sordid undertaking, high on fumes with the dark of the night to hide them.

Sex with Levi has never begun like this, with Hange hanging from a makeshift harness in her lab in broad daylight.

It's not that she's against the idea, per se. There are times when Hange feels that restless ache without the weight of grief sagging her bones—times when she thinks it might be nice to find Levi in his room, or invite him into hers, close the doors and let loose. Enjoy the pleasure of it without the bite of pain.

But now, she thought, shivering when Levi's hand slid around to the inside of her thigh, was not the time.

Levi seemed to have other ideas.

His thumb brushed back and forth over her leg.

"Not that this isn't nice," she said slowly, "but is now really the best time?"

Levi, standing behind her now, gave a noncommittal hum. His other hand came to rest rather boldly on her ass, thumb running lightly up the centre seam of her trousers. Hange sucked in a sharp breath.

"Can it wait? I'm a little uncomfortable here."

Levi acted as though he hadn't heard her. It made Hange huff. Either he was deliberately ignoring her, or he was too preoccupied to listen and respond appropriately. Hange suspected the former, though when she shot him a look rather awkwardly over her shoulder, she did find him gazing quite intently at his own hand on her backside.

Hange had never really considered that Levi might be receptive to the idea of sex outside their current, unofficial arrangement. He never seemed all that interested—in her or in anyone else. His disinterest was so pronounced, that it had shocked her the first time he had touched her—she had reciprocated with equal ferocity, but the initial hunger of his touch had surprised her. Even then, when she had grown accustomed to the uninhibited way he would touch her during their meetings, he had seemed perfectly indifferent whenever they were together in any other circumstance. He retained his perpetual, bored expression, and gave her no indication that he even found her attractive, let alone had any interest.

And yet, here he was. Eyes flitting over his view of her ass and legs, his hands roving almost reverently over her. Hange blew out a loud breath.

"My legs are going dead, Levi. Help me down."

Levi ticked his tongue at her. "Oi, all trussed up like that and you expect me not to look?"

For a second, shock quieted her pleading. Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks grew uncomfortably hot. Levi's tone had been low, gravelly. The kind of voice he used when he hissed filth in her ear, hand at her throat and cock driving into her fast and hard. To hear something so calm from him, in that voice, sent a rush of warmth straight to her crotch.

"You've looked plenty," Hange said. She squirmed when his hand slipped higher still between her legs, finger running back and forth along the seam of her pants. The pressure against her clit made her writhe, forced a groan from her. She shifted her legs restlessly, searching desperately for some purchase, but found nothing. Levi, face inexpressive, cupped her fully, letting his thumb push against where he knew her opening was. Hange choked.

"Levi," she gasped, toes scrabbling at the floor. "Levi, c'mon—at least—nngh—at least let me d-down first." It was embarrassing, the way her voice grew higher with each word, until she was almost squealing.

"You look good here," he said plainly.

"Well, that's swell," she wheezed. "But I—ah—am a little uncomfortable."

Levi's hand was still cupping her. Her fingers rubbing lazily at her clit, his thumb threatening to press into her through the thick fabric. Hange let out a high whine and wriggled.

"Levi," she implored. "It hurts—the rope, its—digging in." She finished with an embarrassingly loud moan, because Levi chose that moment to let his mouth replace his thumb, pressing over her. Hot air bled straight through her trousers, right onto her cunt.

"It's painful?" He asked. Hange felt his words vibrate against her. For one incredibly stupid moment, she considered telling to forget about that, to keep his mouth on her instead—but it did hurt, and as good as Levi's every puff of breath felt, as the pressure of his tongue poking out to rub at her felt, she needed to get down.

"Yeah," she breathed. Hange suspected then that Levi truly hadn't considered that her position would hurt. They were used persistent press of the 3DMG belts, all held scars and bruises from the leather where it took the brunt of their weight during use—Levi likely hadn't expected the rope to be too different. But it was much bigger, and Hange had slammed down onto it with enough force to wind her. She told him so with great difficulty, for he was seemingly fixated on touching her with his fingers and his mouth. At length, however, he pulled away.

"Fine, hold on."

With an arm hooked around her upper thighs, Levi hefted Hange up a little higher, taking her weight off the ropes. Hange let out a relieved sigh as the pressure on her waist eased—blood rushed to the flesh where the rope had pinched and dug into her, making the tender skin throb. Levi used his other hand to yank at the restraints until the section that had been snagged to the hook came loose, then steadied Hange with a palm pressed flush to the flat of her stomach, and lowered her to the ground.

Hange knew Levi was strong. Humanities strongest, after all. But that title was in awe of his titan killing abilities. It spoke nothing of his brute strength. The ropes and chains were heavy, moving them usually took a couple of people at least. Levi had managed to hold her up and shake the ropes loose like they weighed nothing at all. The thought sent an embarrassing thrill of heat through her.

Hange's toes hit the ground first, but she made no effort to get her feet firmly beneath her. They sank down together until Hange's knees hit the floor. She straightened her torso up, spine popping in several places as she did.

"That's better," she breathed. Levi only hummed as he helped her disentangle herself from the mess of rope and chain. He heaved it aside once she was free, and crouched behind her. Her shirt had ridden up during their manoeuvring, revealing a thin strip of pale flesh at the bottom of her back. Hange could feel a cool draught blowing over the exposed skin, but it was followed swiftly by something a hair more solid, the ghost of a touch that made goosebumps pinch at the back of her neck. Levi's fingertip, trailing featherlight above the waistband of her pants.

Hange sucked in a quick breath. She'd thought that Levi was done tormenting her, now that he'd freed her from her confines; she'd expected to be left flustered and frustrated on the lab floor, but Levi, it seemed, wasn't finished with her yet. He hooked his finger into one of her belt loops and yanked up and back. Hange jerked forward, slapping her palms into the ground to keep her balance as Levi raised her hips up. The fabric of her trousers, already a little tight, pulled taut—the seam pressed painfully against her sensitive clit. She whimpered through clenched teeth and gathered her knees more solidly under her in an effort to relieve the pressure.

"Fuck, Levi," she hissed. She glared over her shoulder at him to find his gaze sweeping over her. The thing with Levi was, he never looked impressed. It was impossible to tell, in moments like this, with his sharp eyes travelling over her, whether he was pleased with what he saw or simply satisfied that his view wasn't terrible. "Do you have to be so rough?"

"You've never complained before."

Hange flushed. She tried to form a suitable response, something biting to retort with, but her mind could focus only on one thing; Levi's hand, gliding up the length of her spine now, pushing the fabric of her shirt until it bunched beneath her shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

Levi said nothing. He skimmed both palms, this time, from her upper back to her hips, and back up again, fingers curving to follow the contour of her waist, her ribs. With her breath held, it was quiet enough for Hange to hear the way Levi's callouses caught the bandage binding her chest. His thumbnail scratched lightly at one point where the wrappings met her skin, hooking beneath it. Hange tensed, and Levi's movements ceased abruptly.

"Can I take this off?"

Hange shook her head. "Not today," she said. And then, quiet and a little guilty, "sorry."

"It's fine."

He withdrew his hands from near her chest. One hit the ground beside her, while the other sunk to her hip, fingers digging into her groin. He pulled her back towards him until her ass was flush to his hips, and at the same time, Hange felt his torso rest against her back, the buttons of his shirt pressing cool into her heated skin. His mouth settled open and hot at the base of her neck. Hange shivered as his tongue laved over the skin there, a choked out little sigh stuttering out of her—she felt hot, trapped; prey pinned by a hungry predator. It sent a tremulous thrill zipping up her spine.

Levi's teeth sunk into the back of her neck. "Down."

Hange obliged without thought. Arms folding, back arching, she sunk low until her chest met the hard floor.

"Good," Levi hummed, pleased. His voice was deep, hoarse, and barely loud enough to register, but Hange could feel the rumble of it shudder right up her spine. The change in her position made it harder for him to reach the bare skin of her neck, but she could feel, acutely, the heat of his breath billowing through the layers covering her upper back. He always had an aura of calm about him, and an unreadable expression that bordered on indifference, but there was something in the heavy pant of his breath that exposed his excitement. It was gratifying to know she wasn't the only one.

When she was settled, Levi straightened up. Hange could feel his eyes roving over her, but flat to the ground as she was, with her face tucked into her folded arms, she could see nothing. She jumped when his hands cupped her waist, almost tenderly; he stroked his thumbs over the skin where the rope had been. It hurt, aching in the way heavy bruises do, but when Levi's fingertips pressed a touch deeper into the welts stretching over her stomach, she squirmed, and not altogether from discomfort.

"Is it painful?" He asked, almost absently.

"A little," Hange wheezed. Levi made a thoughtful little sound, brushing his thumb and fingers back and forth over the wounds, and then he shifted back—cool air flooded into the space between their hips, and Hange almost cried out in disappointment—but before she could complain about the absence of his touch, she felt instead his impossibly soft lips, smoothing over the spot his hands had been. First one side, then over to the other.

Hange's muscles flexed and twitched beneath her skin as Levi kissed her. In the handful of times they had fucked before, tender kisses had never been a part of the equation. Everything was rough, biting, scratching, choking, gripping so hard they left fingerprint bruises on each others skin. Hange had never walked away without a limp in her step and a satisfying ache in her hips, the kind that lingered for days on end, as a reminder of what they had done. In their handful of whirlwind encounters, Levi had never kissed any part of her like that. As though she were something fragile. Something precious.

Hange almost straightened herself up to look at him. He lingered so long with his gentle ministrations that Hange thought, for a moment, he might have abandoned their romp in favour of laving her in his silent apologies. But then he shifted, lips dragging to the centre of her spine and down, down, until he found her waistband, and his hands looped around to the front of her pants, finding the buckle and deftly unfastening it.

He was in no particular hurry. He took his time, running his tongue across the bottom of her back as his fingers worked open the buttons on her fly, and explored the newly exposed skin at his leisure. The tips of his fingers, at first, dipping just beneath the elastic of her underwear, running from hip to hip and eliciting shivers and huffed out breaths from Hange as he went. And then he pressed lower, until his fingers found coarse hair. He took his time here, too, allowing his touch to stray near to where she wanted it before dancing away again. Hange grit her teeth in frustration, her hips swaying of their own accord, curling and wriggling, trying desperately to meet his idle fingers. His spare hand brushed up the outside of her thigh, soothing at first, and then he gripped her tight, limiting her motion.

She could feel his smile press against the bottom of her back.

Hange hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of begging. She tried what she could to keep her mouth shut; bit her lip, bit her knuckles, bit into the sleeve of her jacket, huffing panting, needy breaths through her nose in an effort to stifle the whines and pleading moans that threatened to spill out. And she had thought, for a moment, that she had succeeded—Levi finally graced her with the touch she desired, rough fingertips grazing over her clit, swollen and aching now, desperate for attention. Her hips bucked and she moaned, knees instinctively spreading wider. But then, the touch passed. Levi's fingers brushed along her groin instead, withdrawing. Hange's throat tightened, a frustrated lump forming, choking her.

"Levi." She had hoped to sound more angry, but her voice came out high and tight. Desperate. She bit hard at her lip.

"Hm? What?"

"You know what," she hissed. It was absurd, how badly she felt like crying. Her need was bordering on painful; a throbbing, pulsating kind of desire, hot and heavy between her legs. She felt almost dizzy with it.

Levi had never teased her before. Sex was perfunctory; a means to an end. A quick, rough fuck, just another way to burn off steam, like sparring, or running. Feeding a specific hunger; scratching a persistent itch. Drawing things out was never a part of the equation. Hange didn't know how to handle the building tension—her body screamed for relief, release, anything, but Levi seemed perfectly at his leisure. Unhurried.

"Touch me," she grit out, splaying her legs wider still. Levi rubbed his hand against her lower belly. "Please."

"You said now was a bad time, before," he said. He must have anticipated Hange's indignance, for he closed over her and pinned her chest down with a hand between her shoulder blades before she had a chance to straighten up.

"That was before," Hange ground out. "You've started something now. Finish it."

Levi made a quiet, thoughtful sound. Hange twisted her face to one side, flushed cheek pressed to the cool floor, and tried to gauge his expression. It was as unreadable as ever. He looked down at her with hooded eyes, face impassive.

And then, without preamble, he sunk his hand deeper into her pants, and pinched her clit between thumb and forefinger.

Hange swore loudly. Her hips jerked at the sudden touch. It was bordering on painful. Usually, rough was fine. Rough was good. Sex for them was often something like fighting, so Hange was no stranger to these aggressive touches. Usually, she delighted in it. Levi had learned her body well, toed the line between pain and pleasure with the same innate expertise he had for killing titans. Quick and efficient.

But this, for some reason, was too much. Hange twitched painfully and gasped his name, freeing one of her arms and reaching beneath herself, gripping tightly to Levi's wrist.

"Levi—too much."

Levi's touch stopped. His fingers splayed over her lower belly again, thumb rubbing back and forth as Hange released a shuddering breath.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked plainly. He sounded unbothered, almost bored, but Hange knew him better; the fact that he had even asked spoke volumes of his concern.

"A little," she said. Levi curled over her and dropped a kiss to the middle of her back. He mumbled a sorry so quiet Hange barely heard him.

"It's fine," she said. "Just...not so rough, next time? I'm too sensitive."

Levi ran his tongue up the trench of her spine, between the hard ridges of muscle, and hummed quietly. He let his fingers wander back to her clit again, but they settled over her far more gently. She gasped, and moaned quietly. Levi rubbed light circles over her, eliciting more soft little sounds. Hange was used to being vocal, and Levi was used to trying to shut her up, with a hand clamped over her mouth or his fingers depressing her tongue, but he made no move to quiet her this time. She bit her lip and breathed, harsh and uneven, through her nose as Levi's strokes found a rhythm. The weight of his chest rested fully on her back.

Hange could easily imagine the same weight pressed against her as he fucked her, pinned her down and buried himself deep within her. She could imagine the way he'd grind into her, barely withdrawing an inch but still punching the air from her lungs when he pushed all the way back in.

He was shifting over her now, his body twitching in quick, jerky motions that didn't match up with the way his fingers were rubbing her. Belatedly, Hange realised that the hand not playing with her clit was nowhere to be found; he wasn't bracing on the ground, nor touching any part of her body. Raising herself up a little, Hange turned to look behind her, and let out a low, guttural moan.

Levi's spare hand was down the front of his own pants. He stroked himself off with quick, uneven strokes, his face pressed against her back. Hange could feel his hitching, panted breaths against her skin.

She breathed his name and pushed her hips back, seeking him. Searching for the pressure of his cock against her cunt, something to ease the heavy need there. She bumped against him once, twice, before Levi withdrew his hand from his pants to grip at her hip, pulling her back.

"Fuck, Hange," he rasped. He pressed his forehead into her back and ground his hips forward, pressing desperately against her. He must be able to feel her, how wet she was, even through the layers she still wore, for she could easily feel the heat radiating from his cock as it strained against her trousers. Hange whimpered, resisting every urge to shove back onto him. She wanted him to inside her, wanted to feel the stretch as he fucked her open; wanted the delicious ache as he buried himself to the hilt within her, the satisfaction of being full.

Levi curved himself over her, craning until his lips and teeth nipped at the back of her neck. The head of his cock nudged right at her opening and Hange let out a quiet, needy moan, pushing her hips back towards him.

"Hange," he said. Hange gave a shaky hum in acknowledgement. "When did you last bleed?"

Disappointment and a deep, loathing kind of frustration washed over her. Her face twisted in a grimace and her hands, balled into fists, smacked against the stone. She dropped her forehead to the floor, swearing under her breath, and mumbling her response. Levi pinched her hip, brushed his lips over her skin.

"I can't hear you, stupid."

Louder, she moaned, "Last week."

"Ah."

Too recent. Hange could hear the pang of disappointment in Levi's tone, too. He was just as worked up as she was, hard and straining, and it must be torture for him to feel Hange so ready for him, wet, tight, eager. Inviting. But the timing was off. Too soon after her last bleed. Not worth the risk. Levi knew it, and Hange knew it too, but that didn't stop her from wriggling against him, hips easing back, searching for him, desperate for his length to split her open.

Levi let out a low growl and ground against her. Hange half wanted to resign herself to an unsatisfying release, to guide Levi's attention back to her neglected clit and get off quickly, but before she could regain his attention, Levi withdrew his hand from her pants completely, and instead yanked them over her ass, and worked them a little way down her thighs. His breath felt hot and fast gainst the back of her neck as he tugged at the tight fabric. Hange felt his cock bare against her. She shivered and sucked in a quivering breath.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanna fuck you," he said simply. Hange whimpered. She wanted to spread her legs wider, make room for him between them, but her trousers, wrapped around her thighs now, prevented her from opening them, and besides—

"We shouldn't—Levi, we can't."

He made a gruff sound against her. Hange could feel his fingers trembling as he gripped the outside of one thigh, pushed her legs closer together. Hange shuffled the other further in to keep her balance, head spinning. Levi shifted so his knees, either side of hers, kept her thighs pinned together.

They couldn't—it wasn't worth the risk, she knew, and every logical part of her screamed that they should stop now, before they made a mistake. Levi dug his face between her shoulder blades and his hand reached between them, wrapping around his cock and giving it a few jerky pumps. He guided it close; Hange felt the smooth head nudge against her dripping entrance.

"We can't," she said again, weakly. "Levi, we—"

Her breath hitched as Levi applied a little pressure. She could feel herself beginning to stretch for him, opening up as he pressed a little into her. She gasped, groaned, shifted her weight; she meant to move forward, away, but her hips sank helplessly back instead. She almost sobbed in relief as the stretch increased, the sensation dizzying, delicious. She tried again to spread her legs, but Levi's legs locked her in place.

"Levi—Levi, please—" Hange wasn't wasn't sure what she was pleading for. For him to stop, before they went too far, or for him to drive into her, fuck her until she couldn't stand. She felt him hiss against her back.

"Wanna be inside you," he breathed. "Fuck, Hange—you feel so good."

Hange could barely keep herself still. It took every ounce of strength to keep some presence of mind, to hold her trembling hips in place, but it felt like a losing battle. She wanted to feel full, fucked out and satiated. She wanted to feel every inch of him spreading her open, wanted him to fuck and fill her until he was spent, until he had nothing left to give. They shouldn't, they couldn't—but Hange had never wanted anything more in her entire life. To deprive herself was the cruellest thing.

Levi came to his senses before she did. He growled loudly, teeth bared, frustration evident, but he pulled his cock away from her opening and drove instead between her legs, right up against the apex of her thighs. The head of his cock bumped her clit and Hange let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a wail. He tightened his knees against hers, wedging her legs as tight together as he could. He let out a low moan, pulling back slowly, savouring the tightness of her thighs pressed around him. Hange squirmed and squeezed her legs together, desperate to keep his cock pressed up against her. She ground her brow into the ground and let out a harsh, ragged breath. Levi brushed his lips against the edge of the coarse bandage, over the nearest patch of skin.

"What I'd fucking give to be inside you now," Levi breathed, strained. He drove his hips forward at a slow, building pace. Hange squeezed her eyes closed and pushed her hips back to meet him. "Fuck you just like this."

Hange whimpered out her yes, and reached down to pull one of Levi's hands from her hips, guiding it to her clit. He applied a dizzying pressure there, pressing down and rolling his fingertips against her, and the combination of that, plus the length of his cock gliding so temptingly against her, was enough to make her thighs tremble.

"Next time," he grunted. Once or twice he pulled back a little too far and for a moment the head of his cock nestled back against her entrance before popping free and sliding between her thighs again. Each time, Hange guiltily hoped he would slip inside, that they would ignore the consequences, leave it as a problem for another time. It made her twitch, and whine, and fuck her hips back harder against him.

His fingers rubbed rougher circles over her. Hips bucked harder. Hange felt the tension winding low in her gut, in her thighs--her breathing, already ragged, began to hitch and hold, punching out short little mewls and sucking in quick, uneven gasps.

"Close—Levi, I—hah—I'm gonna come—"

Levi gave an affirming grunt against her shoulder blade and fought to keep his pace even. Levi wasn't much of a gentleman in any common sense of the term, but no matter what they did, how quick and harsh sex was between them, Levi always made sure Hange finished first. It was chivalrous, in a way. She might have laughed at the thought if her orgasm didn't cut her off, choking the sound in her throat. Her mouth opened in a silent moan as her body drew impossibly tight, impossibly tense—and then the tension broke, and she was left shuddering, incoherent, disjointed sounds bleeding out of her, eyes watering with relief. Levi rode her through it, and then followed after her, with a few hard, jarring thrusts and a grunt muffled against her back. Hange felt him spill up her belly and onto the floor beneath them.

Without his hands to hold her hips up, Hange sank down to lie flat on the floor. Levi followed her down, pressed to her back, and together they lay there, gathering their senses and catching their breaths.

After a moment, Levi rolled off of her, and sat up. Hange pushed herself upright on shaking arms. She took in the mess—on her front, on the floor, between her legs. Heat rushed through her, sweeping into her stomach. In her lab, of all places.

"Stupid Levi," Hange said. She tugged up her pants and sat on her backside, levelling a kick at Levi's knee. He had already tucked himself into his pants with a grimace, but he was too sluggish post-orgasm to dodge her. "Anyone could have walked in here!"

"They didn't."

"They could have! What if Erwin had come looking for me, huh? Or Mike? What about poor Moblit!"

For a second, Levi looked like he might smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Hange flushed hot at the memory. Poor Moblit, she thought, guiltily recalling their first needy fumbling in Hange's office. She had been drunk—they both were, probably too drunk to reasonably consider the consequences of their actions—and Moblit, ever the loyal sidekick, had only come to check Hange had made it to bed. He'd hoped to find her sleeping soundly. He certainly hadn't expected to find her sprawled back on the desk with Levi's face between her thighs.

"You wanna scar the poor bastard again?" Hange hissed. Levi shrugged. Hange narrowed her eyes at him; perhaps she was imagining it, but she could have sworn she saw something in his expression that looked almost smug. Hange huffed at him.

They fell into a strange silence. Hange busied herself kicking and dragging the remains of the titan trap to the side of the room. She piled the ropes up as neatly as she could manage, while Levi used a napkin to wipe up the mess on the floor. Then he simply sat back and watched her. After a moment, he spoke.

"Did you mind? Me touching you like that."

Hange looked over at him. His face gave nothing away, no hint of guilt or trepidation at all, but there had been something in his tone; a hesitance to voice the question out loud.

"You're asking me that now?"

Levi turned his eyes away from her.

"I figured you'd let me know. If you really hadn't wanted to."

"Most people just ask before they start feeling someone up, you know. Saves all the confusion."

Hange had meant it in a teasing way, with her tone light and her lips turned up in a wry smile, but Levi paled after she'd spoken, eyes a fraction wider than normal.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Screwed up his face, then said, "I don't—I never want to—" He let out an annoyed huff, and ran a hand back through his hair. It was perhaps the most flustered Hange had ever seen him. "I'm not into that shit. I don't get off on making people do shit they don't wanna do."

There was something imploring about the way he looked at her, after that, as though he needed her to listen. As though it were important to him that she understand.

"I know," Hange said, struck by the sudden need to soothe him. He had lost all colour, and looked oddly distressed. "I know. And you're right, I'd have let you know if I didn't like any of it."

It took a long moment, but the tension in Levi's shoulders relaxed a fraction. Hange plopped down to sit next to him and nudged her shoulder to his.

"Maybe we should get a safe word for next time." She grinned, then laughed when Levi weakly elbowed her. "How do you feel about titans."

Levi scowled at her. His eyes looked dark and broody as ever, but there was a pinch to his cheeks, as though he was trying not to smile. "How do you feel about fuck off."

"Nah, you say that too much. What about Erwin's toupee."

"I don't wanna think about Erwin when I'm fucking you."

Hange's face heated a little at the brazenness in which he said it. She laughed, and said, "how about eyebrows?"

Levi grimaced. "Still Erwin."

Hange laughed a little harder. She leaned into him, so close that when he twisted his head to look at her, his fringe tickled her face.

"I kinda like it. Nice and snappy."

Levi tipped closer to her. His nose brushed against hers.

"How about stop talking shit," he said. Hange felt his breath blow hot over her lips, smelled the rich, perfume scent of the tea he'd drunk at lunch. Their brows bumped clumsily together. Levi pressed closer, more solidly to her.

"Too long," she breathed. Levi hummed quietly, tilting his face up so his nose nudged along hers. "Can we go back to titans?"

"Whatever. Use whatever shitty word you want." His voice had gone strangely low, and just a touch breathless. Hange felt her own breath catch somewhere in her chest.

"Titans it is," she said. Levi's lips were so close, Hange could feel them brushing against hers when she spoke. She and Levi had kissed a few times. The sloppy, biting kind of kiss, hot and furious. It was always part of the process—A to B, kissing to fucking. It was never something sweet, or gentle. They never kissed for the simple sake of kissing.

Hange found herself wanting to, now. She wanted to close the breath of distance between them and feel Levi's soft lips against her own. It was an outrageous thing to want, really. Kissing without the promise of something more, it strayed into unfamiliar territory for them. Dangerous territory. Hange had sworn her heart to humanity, same as Levi had—but right now, hers was beating out of her chest for him.

Levi let his mouth touch barely against hers. Hange's eyes fluttered closed and she waited, heart pounding, for him to make some kind of move. To pull away or press closer, either, something.

Instead, he said, quiet and rasping, "this safe word. How does it work?"

Hange rolled her brow against his. "You just say it, if there's something you don't want to do, or if you want to stop."

Levi made a thoughtful sound. Hange felt his fingers graze over hers where her hand was braced on the floor.

"So you'd say titans, if you didn't want me to kiss you now?"

Hange let out a long breath. She nodded, but said nothing more. Levi waited. Hange made no noise at all, and after a moment, Levi tipped his face up and kissed her sweetly. Simple, chaste, his lips pressed against hers. He sighed out a trembling breath through his nose.

They stayed like that for too long, for a kiss so simple, but Hange hadn't wanted to pull away. It was warm, comfortable. She felt pleasantly content. Levi was the first to move, and when Hange opened her eyes she caught sight of his own eyelids fluttering, blinking rapidly, as though he had just awoken from a dream. He licked his lips.

"Not bad," he said. Hange rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder.

"I'll take whatever compliment I can get, coming from you," she said. She dragged herself to her feet, dusting the back of her pants. She grimaced at the tacky, drying wetness in her underwear. "C'mon. I need a shower. And you said I missed lunch, right? No wonder I'm starving!"

Hange held out her hand for him. Levi took it, climbing to his feet while Hange hefted him off the floor. He looked equally uncomfortable with the situation in his own clothing, tugging at the sticky fabric with an angry frown. Hange hooked her arm through his and pulled him out of the lab, pausing only to lock the door behind them. Levi kept step with her as they walked down the corridor. If her closeness, or her happy, out of tune humming bothered him, he didn't show it. They were approaching the end of the hallway when Hange dug her elbow into his ribs lightly.

"Next time," she said, "if you insist on fucking me somewhere inappropriate, we're doing it in Erwin's office. I don't want to put poor Moblit at risk again."

Levi pulled a disgusted face, shoving at her. Hange teetered out of his reach, gleeful.

"On his desk, maybe. Or in his chair. His room is attached, right? Maybe even in his bed—”

"Titans, Hange. For fucks sake, titans."

#levihan #snk #side note: titans is a bad safe word for Levihan!!#my writing #ahahaha I haven't written smut in a hot minute BOY

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abbynx · 3 years

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Encounter (Gelato and Sorbet X Reader)

Genre: Platonic, found family, fluff, wholesome

Warning: Harassment, stalking

You didn't found this coming, associating yourself with the Mafia in a way that one wouldn't thought of and can only fantasize about— if being practically adopted by a pair of couple from most heinous, most successful mafiosi syndicate Passione's hitmen team is someone's fantasy. It just happen to be that you found yourself in a bad situation, one thing lead to another and then all of the sudden you were like a child to Gelato and Sorbet without calling them your parents. And to be frank, so did the entirety of La Squadra, as they thought the couple were content with each others company but nope— they decided to pick up a random kid from the street... At least that's what they knew based in the info the couple has given them. To you, it was an entirely and distinctively different narrative. It all started after spending an over time in school tending to the Mount Everest tall school requirements, picking up numerous books and shoving all of it in your bag. If ever you were pushed in a river, you swore that the bag will simply weigh you down in it. It was in the middle of the evening, idly walking back to your home passing through crowds of strangers. Your home was quite the distant, but you decided to persevere and walk home, as you had to spare money for an extremely expensive fare at this time of the night. Naples' streets were still busy despite the time, but you couldn't blame them. All the sights and sounds visible during the night can be quite pretty and desirable than the day. And so there you were, minding your own business, walking... Walking... Walking... And musing about the possible dangers of the night may bring I mean come on— this is Naples for crying out loud. It was sadly the norm, but you were used to it. All you can do was to look down, and prayed that it wouldn't be your day to encounter these type of people. But of course, the universe operates in a way in which it will take any opportunity to fuck one up, one way or another. You take your usual route home, idly swaying along to tunes you've made and mumbled to yourself when you noticed a particular person who has been walking behind you ever since you've set foot outside of the school gates. At first you shrug, knowing you weren't the only one taking this route and so you ignored the stranger completely clad in dark colours, with no chance of identification. This was your first mistake. Finally, you noticed how much he took the same turns as you did, watching you intently through their dark tinted glasses. And so, you picked up the pace of your strides and so did he. Panic arose in your stomach, but you made no move to implicate your extreme anxiety pulsating through your nerves. It felt like drinking five cans of energy drink in the middle of the night in a span of two minutes after being dared by friends (oddly specific, I know.), except you were actually fearing for your life. You looked around you for a possible place of escape, gaze darting from structure to structure until it landed on people. It was a good idea to hide or perhaps blend yourself with groups of people and yet somehow, your first instinct upon laying eyes on people was latching yourself on the first civilian you can latch on. This, being the couple who had decided to take a breather from the suffocating environment of La Squadra headquarters. Sorbet was confused the moment someone clung to his arm, tight and showed no signs of letting go. He was pissed, but got a glimpse of your shaking hands and the fear in your eyes. Whilst Sorbet was busily analysing your intent, a wrathful blond was ready to shed some blood. Gelato was more than prepared and had no problem to discretely retrieve his revolver from his back pocket, pull the hammer and trigger, empty the whole damn barrel in your brain when you had the most brightest idea to cling on Sorbet's arm whilst they were having a peaceful walk. He was more than pissed at the fact that Sorbet hadn't shoved the bitch away the moment they clung to him. "Please help me..." Your voice low, small and desperately pleading

for help. This was then further solidified at your shaky hands clinging tightly onto Sorbet's arm. "A man... He's following me, sir... Please... He's walking behind us... Wearing all black. I don't know what to do, please help me." Well then, it turns out Gelato was plotting to empty the barrel of the gun on the wrong person! Well at first he was righteously indignant by your audacity to cling onto his husband so suddenly, and rage has further blinded him that he didn't notice the fact you were wearing a school uniform, smaller than they were. "Oi kid, your padre and I were worried about you! Why are you still out this late, hmmm?" Sorbet acts naturally, assuming into the position of a stern and protective father far too perfectly. Knowing his husband truly well, Gelato knew what to do and decided to play along. He lets go of Sorbet's hand, before going around to grab yours so they had you between them. "What were you doing in school anyways? Is it your damn teachers again?" For a moment you were taken aback, before realization dawned on you and cleared your throat to answer, "Well I was just finishing up some works school. I thought you wanted me to improve in school?" "It's flipping eight in the middle of the night! What if some sicko snatched you up?" Sorbet scolds, momentarily looking behind his shoulders before noticing the figure dressed in black still following. "We will discuss this back at home. Let's just get dinner for now." Gelato chimes in, as the three of you stopped in front of a restaurant. The couple had just gotten out to eat, but fuck it. Sorbet sighs, "Fine. Next time you won't do that again, alright? Your padre and I were just worried is all." "I'm sorry, Papá, it won't happen again." You entered the restaurant and reserved yourself a booth. You were more than relieved upon entering the restaurant and seeing the man following you scurry back. Letting out a sigh of relief, you look across the booth to give the couple your words of gratitude. "Thank you so much, I didn't knew what to do! I'm so sorry for disturbing you!" You profusely pouted out, picking your bag up from the foot of your seat, preparing to leave when the blond assassin gently got a hold of your wrist prompting you to stop. "Kid, it's late. I think it's best if we wait this out for a little bit, okay?" Gelato said, whilst Sorbet nodded beside him. "What's your name?" "It's Y/N... Signore." "My name is Gelato, this is my husband Sorbet." "It's great meeting you, Y/N. Would you care for some refreshments? Our treat." After getting to know each other, how they now knew you were an orphan residing in the local orphanage, they took the time and care to make sure you arrive home safe and sound. The couple had the mutual revelation and agreement they wanted a child of their own. The way you referred to Sorbet as Papá somehow awaken the remaining fondness he has for another human being other than his husband, Gelato. Time exploded like a bullet from a gun and after school you found yourself spotting the couple, waving hi to them and stopping for a quick chat before going your separate ways. To you, your encounters with them were purely coincidental, you only get to interact with them within occasions you can see them. The couple, on the other hand... They were settling some paperwork in the orphanage from where you resided your whole life. "And now I'm here, I guess." You shrugged, as Formaggio and Pesci seemed to have been frozen in time, taking the time to comprehend how distinctively different your telling was from their colleagues. "Now you know." "Heh, I knew it." Illuso proudly proclaims, crossing his arms to.his chest with a lopsided grin. "Y/N, it's late. Go to bed. Your fathers are going to kill us if they found out you're staying up late." Prosciutto says as he passes the couch you were seated on. "What? But it's the weekend tomorrow! There's no school tomorrow!" You whined, watching as Prosciutto disappear from the hallways. "Huh, I always knew the two weren't painting the whole picture." Melone

mutters out loud. "Painting the whole picture? What's that supposed to mean!?" Ghiaccio suddenly chimes in. "Y/N, it's pass your bed time. Please go to your room." You jumped upon the sudden intrusion of a new person speaks up behind you. Looking back from your shoulders, you see the Capo's lingering and towering figure over you. "Y-yes sir. Off I go to bed." You stepped away from the couch. "Goodnight everyone." A chorus of goodnight responded, before you entered your designated room. The whole La Squadra may not have seen this coming, nor do they thought it was practical but seeing the couple happy with this decision of theirs, then they'd brush it all aside. They're just happy that they're happy.

#jjba part 5 #jojo vento aureo #la squadra x reader #gelato x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet x reader #platonic #found family #wholesome #fluff

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221bsunsettowers · 3 years

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Buck/Eddie: Now I’m Pacing Back and Forth, Wishing You Were at My Door (Fake Dating/Undercover AU)

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Summary:

Fake Dating/Undercover AU requested by anonymous

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

And Eddie understands he's spent less than a few hours with this man, that people wouldn't understand why there's this twisting aching tug inside his gut at the knowledge that Buck could be hurt, could even be dead, right now. That he might never get to have another moment with this beautiful, kind hearted, funny, complex man who kisses like he's got Eddie's heart in his hands and reads to Christopher like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

For Tropetember 2021, can be read on Ao3 here

CW: a few uses of the f word, a very brief mention of sex trafficking with absolutely no details (one line in the newspaper Eddie reads)

"Look, I'm really sorry, but please go along with this, and you can absolutely tell me off later."

In that split second, Eddie realizes that the gorgeous guy at the bar, the one he hasn't been able to tear his gaze away from since he walked in two minutes ago, has seemingly magically appeared in front of him.

And he's kissing him.

Really kissing him. And he's really fucking good at it.

"Hey, babe," the guy says with a smile, pulling back just enough to run his hands through Eddie's hair (and isn't Eddie thrilled he was too tired from work to style his hair, making it so much easier for whoever the hell this is to really get his long surprisingly gentle fingers right up in there).

"Hey," Eddie manages to breathe out, pretty sure he's stuck in a state of total shock and awe here, and the mystery man chuckles, and Eddie's pretty sure that he spots a blush spreading right up to a birthmark that's just the perfect size to press his lips against-

Eddie makes a tight fist, hoping against hope that the sharp jolt of his fingernails digging right into his palm will snap him back to himself, and out of whatever world he's fallen into where all he can think about is dotting tender kisses across a stranger's beautiful face.

Mystery man backs up, looks sad suddenly, and that definitely doesn't help Eddie's desires to just kiss it and make it all better. "It would be great if you wouldn't hit me," the guy says softly, hands loose and open, "though I would get it if you did." And no, Eddie thinks, no absolutely not, he would never. He's always known that's not a good path to ever let himself go down, using his fists to solve something, but he can't ever imagine mixing violence with the man in front of him.

"I wouldn't," Eddie assures him, "never. I promise." The man looks relieved, then a smile spreads across his face, and he reaches a hand out, gently opens Eddie's closed fist and soothes the stinging nail marks with soft strokes from the tips of his fingers. Eddie feels callouses, and a small scar, but before he can process that information further, the man's other hand is latching onto Eddie's belt loop and tugging him in close again.

"There's two guys, both tall, one has black hair, one brown," the guy murmurs into Eddie's neck, his arms tight around Eddie's back, and Eddie can't help but lean into the touch, letting his own arms drape around this mystery man's waist. He can't honestly remember the last time someone held him quite like this, so even if it's a (gorgeous) stranger (with a tender touch) Eddie's going to let himself have this. "Brown haired guy has a big jagged scar running up his cheek, black hair's wearing a leather jacket with a red lightening bolt on both sleeves. Where are they in the bar?"

Turning his head slightly, Eddie spots the two men who fit the descriptions, over in the back by the pool table. He tells the mystery man as much, and feels a whoosh of relieved air against his neck before the man is pulling back again. "Pretty sure you just saved my life there," the man says, and behind his cocky grin Eddie swears he can see his lower lip trembling. "Thank you."

And with that, just as quickly as he appears, the man is gone. Eddie throws down a twenty and runs to the door, but there's no one there.

Eddie doesn't tell anyone about what happened. Definitely not his son, Christopher, when he gets home from spending time with his Abuela. And not any of his co workers at the store, definitely not. He can already hear Chimney saying he's been spending too much time in their thriller section (only Hen knows it's actually romance books Eddie sneaks behind the counter, and she promised not to tell anyone). And he especially doesn't want to admit just how much he's been thinking about his mystery man since that night.

So when said mystery man comes flying through the door of Eddie's bookstore and small cafe right before closing on Monday, Eddie is the only one who is both surprised and also secretly thrilled.

"Oh, no way!" the man calls out excitedly, grinning despite the blood dripping from the large slash on his left palm. "It's you!" (Okay, so the blood does definitely put a damper on things, Eddie thinks, though apparently not for the mystery man, who seems completely unfazed.)

Hurrying behind the counter in the cafe, Eddie grabs a towel and their first aid kit, guiding the man to the nearest overstuffed armchair.

"You going to introduce us, Eddie?" Hen asks, and Eddie knows he's in for it when he sees the gleeful looks she and Chimney are giving each other.

"I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck," the man says with a smile and a wave, Eddie tugging his injured hand back down with an exasperated huff of air. He's barely had a chance to even start cleaning out the wound when two more men burst in through the front door.

Eddie immediately recognizes them as the two men from the bar, jagged scar and red lightening bolt. Their body language screams "extras from a mob movie" at Eddie, and he moves in front of Buck before he even has time to think things through. "What the hell are you doing here?" Lightening Bolt growls in Buck's direction, and again, Eddie's only excuse is that the mystery man now known as Buck has overridden his common sense, because Eddie crosses his arms across his chest, and-

"He's visiting me, who the fuck are you?" Eddie spits back. Hen and Chimney are wide eyed, and Eddie can feel Buck tensing up at his back, ready to spring up at a moment's notice.

"We're pals of his, now who the fuck are you?" Lightening Bolt (apparently the better spoken of the two) growls, again, and Eddie is really getting fed up with this guy. Eddie takes a second, scrolls back through his memories in the bar (he barely has to, considering how many times he's replayed that kiss in his head), adds in some wishful thinking, and decides to go for broke here.

"I'm his boyfriend," Eddie asserts, and he can only hope that the three people behind him don't give the game away. Eddie takes a step forward, hoping to keep the attention on him and not whatever facial expressions he can only imagine Hen and Chim are unable to stifle (and he's afraid to know what look is on Buck's face). "This is my store, and I don't like your attitudes right now. I don't like anyone bothering my boyfriend."

"Didn't know Sam had a boyfriend," Jagged Scar says, and Eddie can see why he's kept quiet, his growl is far less impressive. Sam is certainly not the name Buck just gave him, but Eddie's already this far in, he might as well just keep going.

"Well he does, and I'd really like to spend some time with him, so you can show yourselves out," Eddie says calmly, and feels Buck put his (non-injured) hand on Eddie's waist, leaning into his side.

"Thanks, babe," Buck murmurs, nuzzling his face into Eddie's neck, laying a soft kiss behind Eddie's ear, and Eddie desperately wars against every single strand of his genetic code and emotional state to keep his face from turning beet red.

Jagged Scar looks at Lightening Bolt to find out their next move, clearly waiting for his cue. Lightening Bolt stares at Buck and Eddie for another minute, almost daring them to break and spill the beans, but when they simply stare back, Lightening Bolt heads for the door, Jagged Scar right on his heels.

"Make sure you tell your boyfriend you're busy tomorrow, Sam," Lightening Bolt calls back over his shoulder, before slamming the door closed. The second they are out of sight, Eddie feels the breath whoosh out of him, sitting down hard in the nearest chair and burying his face in his hands.

"Man, you were amazing!" Buck exclaims, grabbing Eddie by the shoulders and shaking him. "You are badass under pressure."

"Hen, Chim, you guys can leave early today," Eddie calls out from behind his hands, his tone leaving no room for argument. Chim utters a protest anyway, clearly wanting more details, but Eddie can only assume Hen has dragged him out because he can hear the door close and then silence.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks softly, his voice far more hesitant than Eddie has heard it.

"Have I gotten myself into something dangerous?" Eddie asks quietly, voice less muffled as he pulls his hands away from his face, but still stares down at the ground. He doesn't trust himself to meet Buck's eyes and thus completely override his preservation skills.

"These guys are simple," Buck promises, the sincerity in his voice drawing Eddie's gaze up again, despite his best efforts. "They wouldn't use anyone to get to me. They'd just get me."

"Okay," Eddie nods, then shakes his head vehemently. "No, wait, not okay. Are you in danger?"

"Can I sit?" Buck asks tentatively, and Eddie nods again, standing up and drawing a chair over. As soon as Buck sits down, Eddie takes hold of his injured hand again, opening a clean wipe and gently returning to cleaning out the wound.

"I can't really tell you anything, I'm really sorry." Buck's voice is so full of regret and loneliness it takes everything Eddie has in him not to leap across the table and take Buck into his arms. "What I can say is I promise you I'm not a criminal, I would never put you in any danger, and I'm doing the best I can to stay safe. It would have been a lot easier if I could have avoided those guys before they saw me, like you helped me do in the bar, but someone must have told them where to find me."

"I believe you," Eddie says simply, and the smile that springs up across Buck's face almost blinds Eddie, and he can't help smiling back. "Now is your name Buck or Sam? I have to know what to call my fake boyfriend."

"My first name's actually Evan," Buck answers almost sheepishly with a small shrug of his shoulders.. "But my last name is Buckley, so all my friends call me Buck. Sam, it's a...a temporary name." Trailing off, Buck peers down at the floor, like he's taking notes on the soft blue carpeting.

"Buck it is then," Eddie agrees with a soft smile, and Buck looks up again, the smile back on his face as well, and Eddie's heart can't take the fact that he's the one who made Buck feel happy again. So instead he focuses on carefully bandaging Buck's hand

"I heard your friends call you Eddie?" Buck asks shyly, looking up at Eddie through his long lashes, and yep, that's definitely doing it for Eddie too.

"They did," Eddie replies, lip between his bottom teeth as he examines his work before relunctantly releasing Buck's hand. Glancing back up, he meets Buck's gaze and smiles, nodding his head once. "And you can too."

"We're friends, huh?" Buck asks, and Eddie's pretty confident that is literal sunshine streaming out of Buck's smile.

"I won't be a fake boyfriend for just anyone, you know," Eddie banters back, cheeks tinging red in the warmth of Buck's soft grin.

"I hope not." Buck reaches his uninjured hand out and wraps his fingers lightly around Eddie's wrist. Eddie knows Buck must be able to feel how his pulse is racing, but he can feel that Buck's pulse isn't exactly steady either.

Then the shop door opens, and Christopher is there, grinning from ear to ear. Abuela leans in to give both Christopher and Eddie hugs and kisses goodbye, and to give Buck a very interested stare, and then she is back in her car and Christopher is in Eddie's arms, giving his own very interested stare at Buck.

"I'm Christopher," he says matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling mischeviously. "Did you know that Pluto is half as wide as the whole United States?"

"I'm Buck," Buck replies with a very similar mischevious twinkle to his own eyes. "Did you know black holes can burp up stars?"

"Cool!" Christopher is absolutely delighted, grabbing Buck's uninjured hand and tugging him towards the Astronomy section of the bookstore. Before Eddie knows it, Chris is on Buck's lap, Buck reading him a new book about the solar system, and Eddie is helpless to do anything but watch them fondly.

A shrill beep suddenly comes from Buck's left pocket, and he pulls out a phone, making a very disgruntled face as he stares at the screen. "I'm sorry, buddy," Buck tells Christopher softly, as he helps Christopher up before standing up himself. "I have to go."

"No, Bucky, stay!" Christopher pleads, turning his patented puppy dog eyes on an unsuspecting Buck, and from what Eddie can see it looks like Buck is two for two in winning the Diaz boys over simply by existing.

"I wish I could, Chris, but I'll come back as soon as I can," Buck promises, and Eddie is scrawling on a post it note before Buck can suddenly disappear again.

"Let me know you're safe, okay?" Eddie asks softly, holding the note with his phone number out to Buck. "Whatever is going on tomorrow that you can't tell me about, just please let me know you're okay, even if it's just a quick text."

"Yeah?" Buck whispers, gaze darting between the number and Eddie's face like he can't stop looking at either.

"Yeah, Buck." Eddie reaches over, gently squeezes the back of Buck's neck, and for just a second, Buck leans in, their foreheads lightly touching. Then Buck steps back, bending down to return Chris' hug, waving as he steps out the door.

Tomorrow comes, and Eddie can't help checking his phone. And checking it. And checking it again. No message from Buck.

Eddie makes sure the battery is still charged, the volume is turned all the way up, the ringtone is set to the most blaring noise he can find, the wifi and the data are both in working order.

Nothing.

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

Christopher's been asking all day when they can see Buck again, and Eddie doesn't even know if they ever will be able to see Buck again. He tells Christopher he's not sure, and his son looks as heartbroken as Eddie feels, and after a night of no sleep and gutwrenching nightmares, Eddie grabs the first newspaper he sees Thursday morning and pours through it.

Overnight, there's been more violence than Eddie can even try to fathom, and so it's not until the third page that he finds what he's looking for. Evan Buckley, detective with the LAPD, successfully disbanded a sex trafficking ring that had been operating out of a small local pier. The officer will be awarded a medal for his valor. The article doesn't say which station Buck works out of, so Eddie drops Chris off at school, giving his son his solemn vow that he will get Buck to visit the second he finds him. He calls Hen and Chim, tells them he won't be in until later.

It's the fifth station Eddie tries.

He's got a routine down by now, hurrying into the station and heading towards the first person he sees.

"Hi, excuse me, does Evan Buckley work here?" Eddie asks, heart dropping as the woman shrugs, but then an older man walks up behind her and approaches Eddie.

"Captain Bobby Nash," the man says, extending a hand which Eddie shakes, most likely far too enthusiastically, but Eddie's long past caring about what anyone who isn't Buck thinks about him. "Can I ask why you're looking for this officer?"

"He...we..." Eddie takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself. "This might sound crazy, but we met for like two minutes, then we met again at my bookstore, and I bandaged his hand, and he made my son laugh, and I really like him, and I promised Chris I wouldn't come back without him, so here I am." He shrugs at the end of his speech, because honestly, what else can he do at this point?

"You must be Eddie," the captain says with a smile, and then Eddie's being led past the entryway and through a sea of desks and ringing phones, until there he is.

Buck.

Looking exhausted, a bandage on his forehead, another just showing over the top of his Henley, but there, alive, breathing, and about a foot away.

"Buck!" Eddie calls out, voice loud and relieved grin huge, and he will admit to no one but Buck himself that he is actually blinking back tears as he closes the gap. Buck is just rising to his feet, eyes widened in surprise, mouth curling into a matching grin when Eddie reaches him and pulls him in by the back of his shirt, clutching tightly to the stretched taut fabric as he wraps the younger man in his arms.

He feels Buck melt into his arms, moves one hand to cup the back of Buck's neck, presses a kiss to Buck's temple when the typically taller man curls his face into the crook of Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie can't begin to imagine how heavy this job must feel sometimes, what it must have taken out of Buck to pretend he was the same as men who would sell people to the highest bidders. So he takes on whatever weight Buck is able to let slide off his shoulders.

"Fuck, I was so worried," Eddie breathes out, "When we didn't hear from you, I thought...god, Buck, are you okay?" Pulling back slightly, Eddie turns his medic eyes on Buck, gaze sweeping over the banadages, a gentle touch ghosting across Buck's forehead as he lightly taps Buck's chin up, checking for any visible concussion symptoms.

"Cap made me get checked at the hospital, promise," Buck says, blushing under Eddie's scrutinity. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know, I just..." Dropping his head, Buck mumbles, "Wasn't sure if you meant it."

"If I meant it when I said I wanted to know you were safe?" Eddie asks, first utter disbelief and then complete warmth tinging his tone. Buck nods, eyes still on the ground, and Eddie swoops right back in, tucking Buck back into his arms. "Of course I did. Every word. Chris won't let me back into the house unless I've got you with me."

"Really?" Buck tilts his head up, arms now around Eddie's waist, and Eddie nods and smiles, and Buck smiles back.

"You make quite the impression," Eddie teases gently, and then lets his hands slide up to cup Buck's face, and leans in. Buck meets him halfway, their lips press together, soft, tender, once, then twice, then again before Buck lets out a pleased little sigh and Eddie grins fondly, resting their foreheads together.

"Captain Nash, can I borrow Detective Buckley?" Eddie asks, eyes twinkling, and he hears the captain laugh, feels the clap of a hand on his shoulder.

"Please," Captain Nash responds kindly, "I've been trying to get him to leave, but he just keeps insisting he has more work to do."

"I could take a break," Buck offers up shyly, and Eddie nods enthusiastically, bringing another laugh out of the captain.

"Finally use up some of that time off, that's an order!" Captain Nash calls after them, as Buck practically hop skips his way out the door, grin broad as he looks down at his and Eddie's intertwined fingers.

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Kids Again

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: A series of moments in your relationship leads you to one night in Shaw’s, where everything seems different now. Inspired by Kids Again by Sam Smith.

Warnings: angst mixed in with fluff, alcohol use and mentions, smut scene so tiny you’ll barely notice it but still 18+ ONLY (fingering and oral)

A/N: finally got around to listening to Sam’s latest album and as you can see, I immediately latched onto this particular song. the lyrics are sprinkled in throughout the fic and in italics! can’t wait to hear your thoughts :)

Can't believe I still avoid east side

Even though I know that you don't live there now

Lately you're the only thing on my mind

And I can't stop myself from driving by your house

“So there’s a really nice bowling alley on the eastside, or we can try--”

“Let’s go to the other one,” you interjected, forcing a tight-lipped smile when your friend looked up from her phone. She simply shrugged and looked up the address while you took the time to remember why you didn’t step foot on that side of town anymore.

It was a few months after your sixteenth birthday, and you were still just as excited to drive everywhere as you were when you got your license and used car. Being her best friend (and really the only person in the world that she didn’t hate somehow), you had the gift of Rosa riding along in your passenger seat at all times, acting as navigation and snack holder when the situation called for it.

“What time is it?” you asked curiously and Rosa checked her watch.

“9:58.”

“Crap, I gotta get you home now,” you grumbled as you approached a red light, the pout you directed at her shifting into a smile when she grabbed your hand off the steering wheel.

“You really don’t.”

“No, I do. You’re in enough trouble as it is right now that I’m lucky you get to come out with me at all.”

You pulled your hand away to drive when the light changed, biting your lip to hide a grin when she moved hers to hold onto your thigh instead. The rest of the drive to her house was filled with silence, aside from the occasional noise from the surrounding traffic bleeding through the cracked windows. You turned to bid her goodnight when you parked, instantly cut off by her lips on yours. She was out of the car and inside before you could react, but the feeling of her kiss stayed with you through the rest of the night.

She had moved several times since that night, but her parents still lived there. You knew that by the glimpses of her mother and father you caught on the days you couldn’t help but drive past, needing the reminder of that first kiss to wash away the memory of the last.

Livin' out of suitcases and hotels

Drinking way too much and talking through the night

Really wish I didn't know you so well

Wouldn't be so hard to leave the past behind

“Fuck, don’t stop, fuck!” you cried out as you held onto Rosa’s hair, trying not to suffocate her with your legs as she worked between them.

“I’m sorry,” she teased as she pulled away, her wet lips forming a smirk as her fingers continued to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace. “What was it that you didn’t want me to do?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what I thought I was doing.”

She quickened her pace as she lowered her lips to your clit again, sucking and licking mercilessly as each of your moans came out louder than the last. Your back arched off the mattress as you climaxed and slowly relaxed again as you came down, laughing as Rosa raised her naked form to press her lips against yours, pushing her tongue against yours to allow you to taste yourself.

“We need to stop getting drunk at dinner,” you sighed happily, giggling when Rosa frowned at you.

“Why? Drunk sex is the best.” She shifted next to you on the bed and pulled you in to rest against her bare chest, wrapping her arms around you. “It’s not our fault Italy has incredible wine.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.” You listened to her heartbeat for a moment as her fingers trailed up and down your back, eventually sitting up to meet her gaze again. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What?”

“There was significantly less shit-talking, which is apparently your favorite part of fucking me.” You placed your hand on her cheek as she turned away from you, forcing her to look at you again. “Tell me what’s on your mind, my sweet Rosalita.”

“I just worry about whether or not I’m cut out to be a cop, let alone a detective. Didn’t exactly start out so great.”

“Rosa,” you began, moving to straddle her waist and smiling when her hands instantly went to hold your hips. “One mistake doesn’t define your whole life! If it did, I’d still be ridiculed for some clothing choices from middle school. Clearly the academy sees some potential in you, since you were accepted into the program, and took a chance with you. Now you just have to give yourself a chance to live as the person you want to be, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You leaned forward to capture her lips again, smiling against them as you pulled away. “Feeling any better?”

“I am.” She flipped the two of you in one motion, and you grew a bit fearful at the mischievous glint in her eye. “Also, never call me sweet ever again.”

“Okay, sweet--” The rest of your words were cut off by a loud squeal as she attacked your sides with quick fingers, grinning at the sight of you squirming and laughing under her. If it was up to her, she’d spend the rest of her life in this hotel room with you.

Ooh, every time I hear our song it kind of hurts me still

And ooh, even after all this time I kind of miss you still

If you had the physical strength to, you would’ve punched the radio to silence it, so you settled for turning it off instead. Still air was much worse though, as it left you with your thoughts, so you ended up flipping to a station for kids music. Safe enough, right?

The irony of hearing you and Rosa’s song mere minutes after she broke up with you was not lost, and if anything, it made the whole situation hurt worse. When your girlfriend called you over to her apartment last minute, you assumed she was surprising you with a proposal with the way she’d been acting lately.

Instead you were given the exact opposite, parting words that held the excuse of falling for someone else. Unfortunately for Rosa, you knew her better than anyone, which meant knowing she’d never--in this lifetime or the next--cheat on anyone. Especially not you. You wanted to fight her on it, fight and cry and scream until she saw sense, but you didn’t.

Instead you settled on driving away and going home to drown your sorrows in a bottle of wine she bought you during your trip in Italy, the one that had you convinced she’d love you forever.

Tell me how you live without it

Did somebody change your world

And now you don't look back

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You lifted your gaze from the beer bottle on the table to the woman now sitting across from you.

“Detectives aren’t the only people that call this bar home.”

She nodded in recognition, lifting her own beer to take a sip.

“Thought you were more of a wine girl?” she dared to question, scolding herself quietly when you let out a humorless laugh.

“I was, but it started to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.” You drained the rest of the bottle and dropped it harshly back on the table. “What do you want, Rosa?”

“I don’t know. I saw you sitting here when I walked in and couldn’t stop myself from coming over.” She took another sip in hopes of drinking away her nerves, something she hadn’t felt around you in years. “So how have you been?”

You shook your head. “I know you hate small talk, so I’ll save you this painful exchange by asking you something. Was there really another woman, or did you let your fear of commitment ruin another good thing in your life?”

“I don’t have a fear of commitment,” she countered, but you saw right through her cleverly disguised shaky tone.

“We dated from the day of our high school graduation to our mid-twenties and only lived together in hotel rooms on our trips abroad.”

“I move around a lot. I didn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“I would’ve followed you anywhere,” you told her as you placed your hand over hers on the table, your eyes never leaving hers. “You know that.”

“Fine.” She sighed heavily as she placed her beer off to the side to grab your other hand. “I lied because I was afraid and I’m here now because life without you is way fucking harder than I thought it would be. So what if I asked you to revive old times with me and come back?”

“I’d tell you that I have no interest in reliving something that started when we were kids. I can’t go backwards in life, only forward.”

“What if I promised to really commit this time? What if I promised to never let you go until death do us part?” she asked quietly as tears filled her focused eyes, her voice cracking in a way that had you swallowing with difficulty.

“Then I’d tell you that I want to learn about the woman you’ve grown into before I make any major decisions, but you have definitely caught my attention.”

A smile slowly formed on your lips that influenced hers, until you were practically grinning at each other.

“Come on.”

She got up and you watched her with a frown, grabbing your jacket as you stood too.

“Where are we going?” you asked, and she nodded to a group of detectives laughing and talking together in a booth.

“First lesson on who I’ve become starts now.”

No, we'll never be kids again

No, we'll never, never, ever, ever, ever, ever....

Tags: @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @xetherealbeautyx @gaulty74 @milkfromhell

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz x fem!reader #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 fic #b99 x reader #b99 x fem!reader #b99 imagine #b99

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lorei-writes · 3 years

Text

Curses & Charms

Arthur Conan Doyle x MC Fluff

There are few things more fitting of Arthur than absolute fluff. I might have written one of the scenarios I mentioned in this post a few days ago - regardless, this time I bring you an author who has to listen to a hefty dose of compliments. I hope it’s enjoyable :3

Content Warnings: none

At times, the hands of the clock would seemingly slow down, the hours extending into days or completely ceasing to exist – and then, once they resumed moving at an ordinary pace, they’d snap to the very point they should have reached, as to confused those lost in time itself. Plenty events could trigger such moments, some being more pleasant than the others. For Arthur, it came whenever he wrote, the words turning his eyes oblivious to the changes in the light, the colder hours of the evening being no less warm than what he experienced before sitting down. It was as if the universe shrunk in its size, its boundaries being barely wide enough to contain his desk, sometimes cutting away at its corners. There was no distraction, no sounds could reach within this ream – it was only him, him and the story he wanted to tell.

However, a different kind of charm existed as well, one he could not quite believe to be real, despite it repeating itself over and over again. It was his debut, although not the first one, a complete volume resting on top of his desk. Surprise flashed through him, a mild-disbelief clouding his head whenever he thought of print replacing his scribbles, no crossed out words littering the complete pages bound together neatly with thread. His fingers tapped against the hard cover, gliding over the title on their way to the very edge, intent on opening the book. A knock on the door – one and few more following it in a familiar rhythm, a melody he knew all too well completely consuming his attention.

Arthur turned around, pushing his creation into the drawer and closing it shut, his hands resting on top of the desk as he leaned back. “Come in!” he said just loud enough, the hinges seemingly beginning to move the moment they heard his voice. She sprinted inside, the one woman he’d usually want to see, although then… Then he was mildly concerned, a volume he couldn’t quite decipher the name of being clutched to her chest. “I just came back from the book store!” she exclaimed happily, almost bouncing off the ground with each step. Having got close enough, she stood on her very tiptoes and leaned towards him, a bright smile lighting up her face as she whispered skittishly: “And you would never believe what I have heard.” “Oh? Pray-tell?” “That a book, by a certain author I’m rather familiar with, is quite a best-seller, and that they needed to order a couple – plenty more than a couple, actually – more copies of it,” she hummed, her lips brushing against his jaw – and he found himself utterly thankful for that, as she could not see him, the very tips of his ears growing hot.

Perhaps it made for another charm, one he never got used to… Although in that moment it seemed more like a curse, his lover suddenly stepping back, all while grinning playfully. She winked at him, a wave of heat washing over his cheeks. “It’s not all!” she continued. “I’ve talked with a few customers and some went there just to ask whether there were more parts to it. I had a couple interesting conversations…” “Oh, stop, you little fiend,” Arthur forced out of his throat and averted his gaze, anchoring it deep within his bed. “I have no intention of doing so, my love, not in the near future,” she giggled, seemingly enjoying being a torturer. “They all seem to have taken quite a liking to Miss Penesburry, few even lamented over her being only a side character. You should have seen it when two men started arguing how she’d retort to a certain comment by the shop assistant, you’d –” Arthur covered his ears with his hands. She set the volume down and walked towards him, inserting her face in the line of his sight – he closed his eyes, even at the price of missing her smile. She realised: he was bright red. He, the great writer, Arthur Conan Doyle himself, was bright red, all because the one woman he loved went out of her way to listen in to the comments about his work and then complemented him in her own words! Unwilling to let go of such a treat, she tickled his sides. To no avail, he did not budge. She hugged him tightly, mischief still playing in her irises. “Arthur, Arthur, but I haven’t yet got to the best part. You laughed at my reaction to the plot twist and explained the clues to me, remember? And yet, when I was so kind as to offer the same sort of help to few of the customers, they had to hold back from clutching their hea –” “La,la,la, I can’t hear you, nananana,” he tried to drown her words out. “Oh, no, you filthy liar, I know you can!” she giggled, almost attempting to climb his shoulders as to peel his hands away.

They fumbled a little, Arthur attempting to shake her off as her hands latched onto his clothes harder, her laughter making it through his defenses. Of course, she was stubborn – and in her stubbornness, she did not fear to be daring, soon standing atop his feet and pushing onto his chest, seemingly assuming he would not let them fall. Ha! Yet there lied her error, for he had no inhibitions in this regard, the bed being close enough to cushion their crash. She shouldn’t have played the game, not against him – or so he assumed, already imagining having her at his mercy, his fingers roaming freely over her sides… Little did he know, he walked straight into her trap. Deftly, his lover untangled herself from him, her skirt hiking up as she pinned his elbows down with her knees, leaning forward to pull at his wrists. Arthur gave in. “Cruel, darling,” she noted, pouting. “Very cruel. You didn’t even give me the chance to say what I found the best about your novel – and I don’t think I could disclose it to the people in the book store either.” Arthur swallowed thickly. He did not resist, her grip loosening as she let herself get closer, her lips hoovering mere inches above his. “I’m all ears,” he rasped finally. “The author, of course.”

It was quite a curse, to be flustered like so – and yet, in that very moment, he thought he might have found an antidote, the kiss deepening as his heart began to race, blood rushing through his veins at breakneck pace. Perhaps he transferred part of it to her, his affliction manifesting in hot blush spreading down her neck. Whichever it was, he still was a doctor, he had to check… Arthur rebelled, a single movement switching them in their places, her laughter vibrating through his chest. “Yes? And do you know what I love the most about the novel – no, scratch that, the writing itself?” “Pray-tell?” “My muse,” he answered, nuzzling into her neck.

Tag List: @cheese-ception , @kisara-16, @nad-zeta If you want to be tagged for my works, please, do let me know :D Please, specify fandoms as well.

#arthur conan doyle #ikevam arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevam #ikemen vampire #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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rintarous · 4 years

Text

after shutting off your phone, you immediately jumped out of your seat and waved at your brother and his teammates from the balcony as they said their thanks to the audience. you made eye contact with tsukishima and rushed downstairs to congratulate them in person.

“you guys that was an amazing rally!” you squealed as you met up with them in the luggage area. “thank you, y/n” daichi smiles. you clapped your hands and walk towards to your brother. “keikei you were on fire today! akiteru nii chan is definitely going to cry when i’ll tell him” you rambled, linking your arm with tsukishima

“did you have to make that rhyme?” was all he could let out, tired from long ass game they played against inarizaki. “where’s shoyo and tobio?” you looked around for the freak duo. “SHOYOOOOO” you jump at him. “y/n!” he screamed back, catching you as you latch yourself onto the middle blocker

“HOW DARE YOU MISS THAT TOSS FROM TOBIO” you nagged at him. hinata drops you as he scratches the back of his neck in shame. “that jump felt good” he reasons. “you dumbass” kageyama buts in your conversation, smacking hinata on the back of his head. “OY KAGEYAMA-KUN” hinata swats him away.

you tapped kageyama on his back, “yeah?” he looks down at you in confusion. you motioned him to come closer and you whispered something in his ear. “do you know anyone in inarizaki?” you asked. kageyama raises a brow but nods his head. “yeah, miya-san. why?” he answers.

you smiled devilishly. “can you do me a favor tobio-chan~?”

—

you, along with tsukishima and kageyama were on your way to look for atsumu miya and his team. “kageyama, you could’ve said no to my sister you know?” tsukishima groans for what seems like the nth time today. you stopped in your tracks and flipped your hair to glare at your brother. “why are you with us then?”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, “so i can see if you’re gonna do anything stupid and irresponsible like last time” he deadpans. you let out a small gasp, ready to smack your 6′3 ft. brother in the face until kageyama speaks up.

“miya-san!” kageyama calls to his blonde upperclassman he met at the japan youth training camp. “oh hey tobio-kun” atsumu waves, zipping his bag and walked towards the setter. you scanned the people behind him to look for a certain someone.

“i have a request from my teammate’s sister” kageyama starts, moving towards to the side for you to come out and meet atsumu miya. “aww is she a fan?” atsumu grins widely, “you want a selfie with me? since tobio-kun asked, sure” he assumes, grabbing a hold of your shoulders to pull you to his side.

“actually no” you say, removing his hand from your shoulder with no emotion, shocking atsumu. this was probably the first time he got rejected. your brother, who was behind kageyama, covers his mouth to prevent himself from laughing out loud. luckily, he manages to make it seem like he was coughing.

“she wants a picture with your middle blocker. the one who has the jersey number 10″ kageyama explains while you stand beside him, looking at your nails, completely ignoring atsumu who was beet red.

“o-oh” atsumu chokes out. “with suna.. okay wait i’ll get him” he jogs back to his team who were just lounging around their baggage area. “who was that ‘tsumu?” osamu asks as he stares at you, kageyama and tsukishima. “the guy i met at training camp. apparently the chick next to him wants a picture with suna” atsumu shares to his brother.

“SUNA?!” osamu exclaims in shock, whipping his head towards suna’s direction. “yo what the hell do you want from me” suna groans, hiding more in his varsity jacket, if that was even more possible while scrolling mindlessly through his phone. “someone wants a picture with you c’mon lets go” atsumu grabs his arm and forces him up.

“who wants to take a picture with me?!” suna complains as he was basically dragged out of his own will away from his little space he made for himself back there. “her” atsumu motions you to suna.

“shit it’s the girl i made eye contact with at the vending machine earlier” suna thinks to himself as he stares at you, who was busy talking to kageyama and tsukishima.

“here’s our middle blocker!” atsumu presents suna as if he was some powerpoint presentation. “this is suna” atsumu introduces you to him. kageyama gives you a small push to him. “kageyama!” you gasp as you were standing next to the person you’ve kept your eye on all day.

“take my phone and hurry up” you chucked your phone at kageyama who barely manages to catch it. atsumu leaves the frame as kageyama positions the phone. “1, 2, 3... smile!” atsumu chirps as he looks at the pictures kageyama was taking.

“suna don’t just stand there! do something!” atsumu jokes, looking at how stoic suna was compared to you who was so lively and smiling at every angle possible. suna sighs and throws up a half-assed peace sign. “there we go!” atsumu laughs, clapping his hands.

“you were great out there” you compliment suna beside you. suna raises a brow again, “you think so?” you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. you were practically speaking to the guy you’ve been tweeting about. “yeah it was like love at first sight” you bat your eyelashes at him.

“oh god.. is this what the twin’s fangirls are like?” he thinks to himself, grimacing a bit at the sudden confession. you grabbed your phone from kageyama and skimmed through the pictures he took. you smiled happily as you see at least 20 pictures in your gallery. one of them was gonna be your wallpaper for sure.

“can i take a selfie with you before i go?” you ask suna who looked like he was ready to dash back to their area. suna internally groans but nods anyway. completely ignoring that shit eating grin that was plastered on atsumu’s face.

“hey why are you guys taking so long?” osamu joins in the little circle. “fuck” suna curses under his breath. “hey suna what are you doing?” osamu asks, walking up to atsumu. “oh how cute. they’re taking selfies” he comments.

you ignored the two boys as you held your phone up high. since you were too short, suna had to crouch down a bit. you took a bunch more and just posed in every way possible. “thank you” you gushed, scrolling through the photos again.

suna shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to their luggage area, leaving the twins with you guys. “hey y/n right?” you hear atsumu call out. you turned around and looked at him with a blank expression. “yeah” you turned your attention back at your phone.

“can we have your twitter or something? you seem like a fun person to be with” atsumu asks, whipping his phone out. you shrugged and told him your username. “it’s tsukkiyn” you took a peek at his phone that has twitter open. “okay followed you. see you!” atsumu waves goodbye to you and your group as he along with his twin walk back to their baggage area.

“bye! thank you miya-san!” kageyama bows at his upperclassman as you walk side by side with tsukki, grinning ear to ear. “happy now?” tsukishima asks as the three of you head back to the team. “very” you squealed, staring at your phone gallery filled with pictures of you and suna.

“he shall be my boyfriend in no time” you declared, shocking the two boys beside you. “you’re so confident, y/n. how do you do it” kageyama chuckles. “yeah let’s not make it seem like he’s some toy alright?” tsukishima reminds. “besides, they’re from hyogo, we’re from miyagi” you scoffed, “you didn’t have to put it like that kei” tsukishima shrugs, “just saying”

—

“SUNA HAS A FAN!” atsumu screams, jumping around the poor boy. “yeah let’s not talk about that” suna waves him off, bringing his attention back to his phone in hopes atsumu would get the hint and leave him alone. “who has a what now?” he hears kita ask.

suna never wanted to hide in a hole til now.

“it’s suna, kita-san!” atsumu beams in joy, “they even took a picture together” osamu adds. suna whips his head towards osamu and had the biggest look of disbelief on his face. “sorry bro but.. it’s unusual for us” osamu chuckles

“i even got her twitter! but it seems like she ain’t interested in me” atsumu mumbles the last part. “not everyone is after you, dickwad” osamu retorts, sitting next to his best friend, suna.

“i don’t understand why you all find this so amusing” suna mumbles under his breath. too bad for him, osamu heard it. “cuz’ it’s like the first time we’ve seen someone who wants a picture with you or somethin’“ osamu reasons. “plus she looked like she was an atsumu fan but no., she’s a suna fan” osamu continues, wiggling his eyebrows.

suna takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes, “we’re not idols. we’re volleyball players” knowing they won’t stop pestering him anytime soon, suna plugs in his airpods and raises the volume to the max.

as if! — six ( suna has a fan )

[ prev / next ]

↬ what you want is what you get. thats how its always been for you growing up. but the one time you let time and destiny do it’s thing, surprise, surprise! it’s not how you want it to be. maybe you‘re just clueless on how things should play out without having it your way.

a/n: wow i can actually write??? 🤡 p.s since no one asked heres an update

[ taglist: @therealwalmartjesus @90s-belladonna @babybluebisexual @o-o0613 @thenezuko @tycrackculture @kuroos-babie @clowninfortodoroki @dorkyama @iikiag @wakaitoshi @svtbitch @reogou @whalien52dreams @prettysetter @floralprintedsheets @kisskeiji @preparingtofall @kaffulatte @akaaaashit @imuziawi @thenezuko @shoutobabyboy @issalilmessy @akaashi-bby @k-gada @jimilogy @inairizaki @terriblejob-sam @kuryusmu @miyuswriting ]

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kurlyfrasier · 3 years

Text

The Plan: Step Four (final)

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has a plan to win her favorite terrapin over. Step Four: This wasn’t part of his plan.

Warnings: some violence, somewhat dark raph (although I think I’d really enjoy some dark!Raph. Know anyone who writes that?)

Word Count: 2281

You weren’t paying attention as you walked home from a leisurely day in the lair- even if it did start kind of rough. Your thoughts ranged from Layla’s insincere words to a game you couldn’t seem to beat Mikey in. You thought maybe he had figured a way to cheat and had yet to share his insights. Then you thought about churrs, causing an unconscious smile to grace your lips. Raph hadn’t churred all day, though- which turned your smile into a frown.

“Hey there, girlie,” a rough voice said next to you, stopping you cold as you held your breath. “I liked that smile.”

“Yeah, me too, Vinny,” another stated behind you, his footsteps heavy on the pavement, his voice sinister. “I bet we can make her smile again. Whaddya think?”

“Real pretty like?” The first voice you assumed to be Vinny, snickered. “Ya really think so, Jim?”

Blood rushed in your ears as your breathing turned rapid and eyes raked over your surroundings in a panic. It had gotten dark on your trek home and you may have passed it a block or two back- you weren’t certain because you didn’t travel the opposite way of the lair very often. Not only had you passed your home, but you seemed to have turned into an unfamiliar alley. One that reeked of liquor and urine. So definitely not the best alley you could have wandered into.

“Yeah,” Jim chuckled, sounding closer, close enough for you to feel his body heat behind you. The eerie sound gave you chills. “I bet her scream sounds like a siren’s call, too.”

On some unknown reflex, you elbowed Jim in the stomach, sidestepped away from Vinny, and spun to face the so-called men in a fighting stance- the cold, rough brick behind you a comforting presence. The move surprised you and your wide eyes proved that.

“Oh-ho!” Vinny laughed as he nudged his doubled-over, hacking friend with a menacing grin. “She’s a feisty one.”

Jim spit at your feet. “Good. I like to tame them-”

“Do ya hear that?”

You strained your ears and steadied your breathing, hoping the rush of blood would go silent.

“Wha-”

“Shh!” Vinny put a finger up to his lips, eyes wide and frantic with fear. “I swear I hear-”

The pavement beneath your feet vibrated and that’s when you noticed the deep, rumbling, growly noise coming from the shadows behind the men. Whatever it was, wasn’t human and had your heart rate beating wildly in your chest.

“Ya promised, Swee’heart,” the baritone growl forced your eyes to focus up and into the shadows, latching onto familiar, furious green eyes. You ignored the new nickname, thinking it was the anger talking. His voice was deeper than you had ever heard. His gaze promised retribution. For the first time since you had met him, you were scared. Scared of what he was capable of. Scared the men before you may not see tomorrow. Scared of his fury and what it meant for you.

“Hey!” One of the men shouted, already facing away from you. “We found her first.”

“Yeah! Go find your own b-”

A hand reached into the dim light. Three-fingered and deep green wrapped onto the talking man’s neck, squeezing just enough to shut him up. The man automatically grabbed the wrist the hand was attached to- a sad attempt to free himself. His friend stood statue still and silent as he stared at the mutated hand.

“Ya promised ya wouldn’ go lookin’ fer trouble,” Raph said, slow and meticulous, eyes never straying from your own as the ground continued to vibrate beneath your feet. “An’ I tried stayin’ away, Swee’heart. I really did. But these lowlives kep’ talkin’ an’ I didn’ like wha’ they were sayin’.”

The statue moved, but Raph grabbed the back of his shirt in a flash. The man squeaked.

“Nuh-uh. Where do ya think yer goin’?” Raph held him in place. Now that he was facing you, you saw it was Vinny who tried to run. “She’s been workin’ real hard learnin’ how ta fight,” his eyes gleamed. “It would be a shame if she didn’ get ta practice.”

You cocked your head, slightly confused, arms long ago fell to your sides. Was Raph saying to hit the man?

“Ya elbowed this guy pretty good earlier,” Raph shook the man he held by the neck and you were certain he was going to pass out at any moment. Raph smirked. “Thought ya might like a chance ta hit this guy too.”

“R-really?” Your voice shook. You weren’t much of a violent person, but you had been curious if Raph’s praise during practice was truthful. Plus, it felt great defending yourself a bit ago.

“Yeah. Wide stance, remembah?”

You nodded, a gleam in your eyes as you got into a fighting stance.

Raph somehow grunted in approval over what you had, by now, figured out to be another one of his churrs. “Do me a favor, though. Only hit ‘im once. I don’ wantchya ta hurt yaself.”

You gave him a half nod, pulling your arm back and aimed for Vinny’s eye. Bone crunched under bone. Your arm vibrated from the contact and you pulled back, shaking the sharp pain out of your hand and wrist, causing more pain than you thought it would. When you looked up you saw you missed Vinny’s eye and instead, jabbed his nose. Vinny was groaning in pain, hands filling with blood as Raph chuckled, still holding the men in their place.

“Good hit, Swee’heart,” Raph tossed Jim into the side of the building and he slumped onto the ground in silence. Then Raph jabbed Vinny in the temple, knocking him out and dropped him on the ground before crossing the alley.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph stood in front of you, unable to stop the protective churr that still hadn’t quietened down even though the threat was literally passed out on the pavement. He had a feeling it wouldn’t stop unless he took you to the lair- where he knew you would be safe- and had Donnie check your wrist.

“C’mon,” Raph lifted you up into his arms and made his way to the roof. He stayed silent, aside from the churring, and was comforted by the fact that you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder as he hopped roof to roof until they arrived at the manhole closest to the lair. Reluctantly, he set you down, knowing he couldn’t hold you and enter the sewers at the same time. Immediately after he closed the manhole up he lifted you back into his arms and held you close. Thankfully, you didn’t protest. He never wanted to let you go. Pride filled his chest as he remembered the move you pulled the same moment one of the thugs reached for you. Not that you saw what that lowlife was doing, but the dread that filled Raph as he watched was a memory he would never forget. It made his blood boil, you being in danger. He was happy now that you had convinced him to teach you how to fight.

Now in the lair, he strode straight for Donnie’s lab, his obnoxious churring catching everyone’s attention as he walked by. They didn’t dare follow him. Not even Leo.

“Donnie,” Raph’s voice was demanding as he walked into the lab. “I need ya ta check Y/n’s hand an’ wrist.”

“I’m not touching her,” Donnie stated, backing into the wall, hands up in surrender as Raph sat you on the table.

“What. Why not?” He growled along with his churring, never taking his eyes off of you, a hand rested on your knee.

“Your churr, bro. I’d rather keep my shell in one piece, thanks.”

“I won’t hurtchya, I promise,” Raph gritted out, squeezing your knee without realizing it, still not moving his gaze from you.

“Raph,” you rested a hand on his, causing his grip to loosen, and the other on his chest. “I’m okay, see?” You moved your wrist and fingers to prove nothing was broken. You barely even winced, but he saw it and it kicked his churr up a notch in volume.

“Donn-”

“Please, Raphie?” Your plea had his heart skipping a beat, your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I promise I’m okay. Please don’t be mad anymore-”

“Mad?” Both brothers spoke in shock.

“I’m not mad, Swee’heart. I’m-I-” Raph ripped his gaze away from you and looked to his brother for help. He didn’t know how to express that he just wanted you by his side. That he wanted you safe and away from danger. That he couldn’t live without you. That he’ll always be there to protect you. That you didn’t need to fight because he vows he will always be with you in whatever capacity you deem him worthy of. That you were never leaving his sight again if he had any say in the matter.

“He’s not mad, Y/n. Although, I could see why you would think that considering how domineering his protective churr is.”

“Protective?” Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Yes,” Donnie nodded and Raph looked back to you, never wanting to look at anything other than your beauty for eternity. “He wants to keep you safe and, in his eyes, the only thing he deems good enough to protect you is himself. Honestly, I’ve never seen him like this so I’m worried that if I touch you, he’d try to kill me.”

“Kill you-” Your furrowed brows raised in surprise. “Raph you didn’t?”

“No,” he held your gaze with confidence. He may not have killed those men in the alley, but he wanted to. His entire being begged him to squeeze the life out of one and crush the other, but he didn’t. He was worried you may never want to have anything to do with him again if he did and that thought kept him refrained.

“That’s good,” you breathed out. “So now what?”

“Donnie’s gonna check ya out,” Raph unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down your thigh in a soothing gesture. More for himself than for you. Touching you proved you were alive. That you were there- with him.

“Not with you in here, he isn’t.”

“Well I’m not gonna leave ya,” he rasped barely above his churr, leaving the sentence hanging. You now knew what this particular churr meant, he didn’t need to say it.

“Yes-”

“No way in-”

“Raph,” you cupped his face in your hands. His eyes closed at your gentle touch. “If you want Donnie to check my hand, you’re going to have to leave the room.” His eyes flashed open at the suggestion.

“No-”

“Five minutes.”

“Fiv-”

“No-”

“Minut-”

“No-”

“I promise.”

Your words made him pause for a beat. His churring the only sound to be heard. Donnie still hadn’t moved.

Two.

“Ya said that before, Swee’heart.”

“Donnie isn’t going to hurt me, Raphie,” the nickname made his heart soar even as your hands fell to your lap. “You know this. And you know I didn’t go looking for danger.”

“Tha’s not what it looked like ta me,” Raph saw the confusion cross over your face. “Ya walked past yer place and cut through three alleys headin’ who-knows-where before ya entered that last alley an’ those guys saw yer pretty little smile.”

Your eyes widened in shock as your cheeks turned into his favorite shade of pink before you finally stuttered out your question. “Y-you think I h-have a pr-pretty smile?”

He tucked some hair behind your ear. “Yeah, Dum-dum-”

“And you wanna keep me safe?” Your voice was determined this time, a certain gleam in your eye that had always frightened him. You looked as if you had connected more dots than he had ever planned to let you connect.

“Y-yeah-”

“Then why am I not your Layla!?”

“My Layla? Oh-”

“Yeah! I’ve learned how to fight. I had to freeze my butt off just so you would be forced to lend me a shirt! I-”

“Ya did what?” His sharp tone shut you up and had you looking to Donnie for help. So Raph blocked your view of his brother, smirking down at you. “Y/n, ya can borrow my shirt any time. No need for a ruse.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “But that still doesn’t explain why we- w-why we aren’t y-you know?”

“Togetha?” Raph finished for you, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking down at your lap, thumbs fiddling.

“‘Cause I nevah thought ya would wan’ somethin like me,” Raph answered, voice hoarse, his churring much quieter than before.

“Like you? Raph, I’ve liked you for months!” You exasperated, clearly frustrated he didn’t get the memo.

“Ya deserve more than me-”

“No! Don’t you dare do that, Raph,” you gave him a pointed look.

“But ya do-”

“Oh yeah? Then who do you think could protect me better than you?”

Raph stayed quiet, unwilling to answer that. He was certain nobody could protect you better than him, but that wouldn’t help him convince you otherwise.

“Exactly,” you whispered out before tugging him down by the edge of his plastron. Surprising him with your soft lips against his own.

~~~

Donnie never did check your hand that night and Raph’s churring didn’t stop for the next few days; going back and forth between his deep, growly protective churr and his rumbly happy churr- depending on who was close by. Layla claimed she became stifled because she was always stuck in the lair and was never able to go on any ‘proper’ dates, which eventually led to her breaking up with Leo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Oh gosh...I had to write the little “L” word lol and I added in a tiny kiss too! I usually try not to do that lol Idk why cuz I like to read them lol but whatever. I hoped you like this! :D

Want to read more by me? Masterlist

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damienthepious · 3 years

Text

wow this hiatus sure is long huh

Tomorrow’s Some Kind Of Strangerland (chapter 5)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum & The Keep, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Sir Damien, Rilla, Queen Mira, Original Monster Character(s)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ceasefire, Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters), canonical character illness, asking for help, (i still dn’t know how to tag things rip), (uhhhhh canon-typical fantasy monster-hatred? that’s gonna be a thing)

Summary: When Mira took the throne, she did what no human ruler in living memory has done - she reached out, and brokered peace with the monsters. It is a shaky, uncertain sort of peace, but she and the current monster Senate have managed to maintain it for a handful of years now with only minor incident.

Lord Arum has not interacted with the human infection in the Northern Wilds since the ceasefire, but when his Keep becomes ill past his own ability to cure, the Senate has a peculiar idea for how to help the isolated Lord while testing the goodwill of their tentative allies at the same time.

Chapter Summary: Lord Arum adjusts to his temporary chambers.

Chapter Notes: less sick this week, thankfully. things still bad! just hanging in there, trying to keep doing my own thing, as always.

Arum can feel the knight seething as he leads him through the halls towards the… accommodations his little Queen insisted upon. Arum certainly can't complain about the adjustment; anything is better than listening to the vicious little creature babbling on about propriety and duty and whatever petty problems he has with Arum's voice. At least he has enough respect for his ruler to clamp his jaw shut, for a little while.

None of the other knights or servants pay them much more mind than a polite tilt of the head. Substantially more well trained than this irritating creature, apparently.

He buries a sneer. Was Mira joking, when she referred to Sir Damien as one of her most skilled knights, or was she simply setting Arum up for failure? Certainly they won't even get through the next full day before this skittish, irritable thing cracks and tries to kill Arum in his own borrowed chambers. An incident waiting to happen, this obnoxious, impossible to ignore little fool-

Sir Damien opens the door before him, dropping his eyes as Arum sweeps past stubbornly.

The chambers are... acceptable. Arum can see a number of points of structural inefficiency, but nothing so egregious as to worry him in truth. The stone is cut clean, the plush rugs dyed bright and lovely, the walls draped with tapestries and hung trailing plants (this last point being the most comforting; there is nothing he would have seen in his own swamp growing in this room, but the flora still looks glossy and well-cared-for). The front room houses bookshelves, a low table with surrounding cushions, and a writing desk beside a wide window curtained with green that Arum would be worried about if he had any faith that a human could climb these towers. A monster could, and perhaps Arum will still place a precautionary trap on the sill, but it is a relatively low risk. Arum can see the bedchamber through an open door, a much smaller room with a much smaller window.

The bed is piled with pillows and thick cloth. Humans and their soft, thin skin. Pathetic.

"Apparently," Sir Damien says, his tone frustrated and flat, "I will be staying in the adjoining servant's chambers. There is a hidden passage here," he says, and then he moves to brush aside one of the tapestries, pressing on what Arum had taken for a loose stone and swinging a small doorway open. The room behind the hidden door is somewhat smaller, less decorated, more utilitarian.

Arum does not bother to disguise the irritation on his face with this development. The knight certainly hasn't bothered to do the same.

"Provided that you do not enter these chambers uninvited and unannounced, I do not suppose I will have any reason to protest," he mutters, and the knight frowns. "You will not be afraid to sleep with a monster so close by?"

"I am not afraid of you," Sir Damien says, tone arch as he raises his chin. "Besides, I do not believe you would get what you want out of my Queen, if you attempted to assassinate me in the dark of night, would you?"

Arum keeps his eyes fixed on Sir Damien's for a long moment, a growl tickling soft in his throat. "So. You are capable of rational thought. Good." The knight sputters, his cheeks darkening with fury, but Arum turns his face away before he can protest more thoroughly. "Now. Leave me. It was a long journey, and I would quite like to rest unassailed by buffoons for the first time since I began to approach your shoddy little city."

The knight makes another noise, choking nonverbal indignation, but he either thinks better of speaking his mind in this moment or he is simply too angry to speak at all, and after a long moment Arum hears him step through to the other chamber and pull the stone door back closed behind him with an angry thunk.

Arum sags, just slightly, when he is finally alone again. He checks the door back into the palace hallway, first, latching the lock (for what little peace of mind that gives him), and then he begins to set up a few more trustworthy precautions.

He sets a small trap on the wide window, a fragile macrachnidweb lattice laced invisibly across the open sill, which will loudly set off a packet of snapseeds hidden beneath the curtain if broken. He hides another across the smaller window in the bedroom, just in case. He hides a detector under the lip of the table as well, the pseudo-cicada primed to alert him to any magic besides his own or the Keep's.

There is no lock on the bedroom door. Rather unfortunate. Arum sighs, then simply glares hard at the closed door for a long moment before he turns to the bed. He will set up a semi-permanent portal back to the Keep in the morning, when he feels better rested, when he has enough energy to cobble together a makeshift lock of his own. He already knows exactly which tapestry he can move to hide the portal against the wall; all he needs do is arrange the swamp dirt in his bags in the proper place, and then the Keep can grow a little foothold. If it doesn't need to produce a new portal in a new place every night, the strain shouldn't be unreasonable. It will allow him to continue to work towards his own cure while Mira's physician is still distant, and perhaps tomorrow Arum may even rest in his own damned bed again.

For now, he lowers his head, and then he climbs up onto the absurdly soft pile of human fabrics and curls around his packs for safekeeping, his eyes on the unlocked door with sharp distrust for what feels like a long, long time before he manages to succumb to sleep.

Sir Damien can sleep nearly anywhere, if necessary, and still wake with the dawn, with enough time to run through his morning exercises and meditate, at least briefly, with Saint Damien.

Waking within such close proximity to where a monster sleeps, however... it is disconcerting, to say the very least. Though, he did not lie, the night before. He is not afraid of Lord Arum.

He steps out into the hallway to clear his head before he attempts another conversation with that lizard, and he intercepts one of the palace workers, coming to meet him with a tray of food for himself and the monster ambassador. Damien suppresses an irritated huff, managing to thank the worker before he retreats back into his room with the tray.

Damien sets the tray down on the table in his room with a sigh, imagining the look on Sir Absolon's face if he heard that Damien had been tasked with serving food in the private chambers provided to a monster, and then he shakes his head to clear it.

He knocks on the stone door (less hidden, on his side of the wall), and waits a long moment. He supposes that it might take some time, if the creature is still in bed, for him to answer.

More than a minute passes. Damien knocks again.

"Lord Arum?" He pauses, and then he leans to press his ear closer to the stone. He cannot hear anything, though it is impossible to tell if that is because of the stone, or because there is nothing to hear. "Lord Arum, may I- may I come in? I have-" he winces, sighs, "I have breakfast for the both of us, if... Lord Arum?"

He knocks once more, and when that still yields no answer he frowns and grumbles a curse under his breath, and then he dares to press the hidden door open a crack, peering warily through.

The room looks... nearly untouched. Perhaps the monster truly was as exhausted as he claimed, or-

The door to the bedroom is still closed. Damien cannot- should not assume, simply because the monster is not in sight, that the creature has escaped- rather, disappeared into the Citadel unaccompanied, against Damien's orders-

He takes a deep breath, and then presses the door further open.

"Lord Arum, I wouldn't like to disturb you, but-"

A noise in the bedroom, strange and distant. Like- song? Or- chiming, perhaps. Unlike the rattling, rough voice of the monster.

"Lord Arum?" he asks, more suspicion coloring his tone as he steps closer to the bedroom door. "Lord-"

The door swings open, the monster striding out quickly enough to nearly collide with Sir Damien, growling with his frill flared and his cape half-draped over only a single shoulder.

"What? What is it? What do you want?"

"I..." Damien blinks, swallows, and leans back from the way the monster looms above him. "Er- there is- food. For the both of us. You did not answer, and I-"

"Thought you should barge into the private chambers your queen allocated for me?" he snaps, violet eyes flashing, and Damien feels a pulse of irritation burn past his surprise.

"You didn't answer," Damien repeats, more snap in his voice. "Do you want me to bring you your breakfast, or do you not?"

The monster glares for a long moment, his tail lashing behind him, and then he exhales a sigh and turns, reaching a hand over his own shoulder to right his cape again. Damien attempts not to notice the way the muscles of Arum's shoulders move beneath the motion, suggesting far more strength than Damien had previously assumed.

He will... need to keep that in mind.

"Ugh. Fine," the monster grumbles, turning and stalking to the table to drape himself across the cushions with an overdramatic sigh. "Next time I will try to wake more promptly, so you do not decide to kick down my door in a panic."

Damien narrows his eyes, then flicks his gaze into the bedchamber for just a moment before he turns back to his own room to gather the meal again.

The bed looks rumpled, though the sheets themselves seem as if they have not been turned back (did the creature simply curl up on top of the blankets?), and nothing much seems disturbed-

One of the tapestries on the far wall swings lightly, gently, as if in a breeze. Only one.

Damien shakes his head.

They eat entirely in silence, the monster ignoring Damien rather thoroughly over his spiced, vegetable stuffed bread. That is perfectly fine, so far as Damien is concerned. He does his best to ignore the monster over his own meal, despite himself.

"Queen Mira has requested your presence this evening, to take supper with her and a few other nobles, dignitaries, that sort," Damien says stiffly once they've finished, gathering their plates into a neat pile for the palace staff to collect later.

The monster narrows his eyes, his lip curling. "Fine," he says, somewhere near a growl. "If she insists."

She does not insist, Damien thinks sharply, barely biting his tongue. She is the Queen, Lord Arum should be honored that she would deign to grace him with such an invitation-

"That is not until the evening, however," he manages to continue through grit teeth. "Will I be accompanying you into the city today, Lord Arum?"

"Why would I need that?" he asks irritably, and Damien clenches his teeth even harder.

"I would hardly dare to guess," he says, his tone hopefully breezy and not still stiff. "Nor would I dare to assume that you should prefer to spend your time cooped up in this room alone, simply waiting for R- for Queen Mira's physician to return to the Citadel."

The monster blinks, then glances away, his frill fluttering oddly beside his neck and his scales- Damien is almost certain, this time, that he is not imagining it. The lizard's scales shift hue, a mottled pattern up his throat and on his cheeks shifting to a subtly brighter green.

"I do not see what there is to do besides wait, little knight," he mutters. "I do not desire any entertainment you think your city might provide while my home is dying, and I do not trust yourself or the citizens below not to attempt to slay me if I make some social misstep in the pursuit of such, which, as I have seen in the short time I have spent here already, I am very likely to do. I can hardly speak without committing offense. I dare not wander, lest I condemn myself by mistake."

Damien opens his mouth, then closes it again just as quickly. The monster almost seems- beneath his seething anger and that more subtle layer of sorrow Damien would prefer not to acknowledge, he almost seems self-conscious about his noticeable lack of human social graces.

"Well..." Damien says slowly, "If you do decide you would like to see more of the Citadel, I suppose that is precisely what I am here for. You would not be unprotected, and I think... I think you overstate the bloodthirst of the citizenry. Surely you saw, today, there were a number of other monsters in the market."

"Monsters under your bitter scrutiny," he growls, still not meeting Damien's eye. "No. I do not think I should like to risk my neck, even under your noble protection, oh brave Sir Knight."

Damien flushes again at the dripping sarcasm in Arum's voice, and then he turns to glare at the monster.

"There is no need to be so dour," Damien says, halfway snapping and halfway pleading. "The Queen herself has taken up your cause, as you wanted! Your swamp will be saved, because the most brilliant mind in the entirety of the Second Citadel - I can assure you of that personally - has been summoned to lend her skill. You should be grateful for what generosity you have been given even thus far."

"You would prefer me on my knees, little knight?" Arum spits, his teeth bared, and Damien manages - barely - not to splutter. "Have I not groveled thoroughly enough for your tastes?"

"No, I-" Damien shakes his head. "That isn't what I meant, I only- I only-"

"I understand," Lord Arum says stiffly, "that it is the fault of no one that your Queen could not provide me with the assistance I require at this very moment. I understand." His eyes flash, anger pulling quick across an anxiety that Damien cannot help but notice. "That does not mean that I have to pretend to be pleased about the delay."

"Queen Mira is dutiful and wise," Damien says, almost automatically, distracted by the monster's attention upon him. "She will do what is right, and she will do so in the proper way."

"And in the meantime," Arum says, looking away again, his gaze cast out the window towards the slow ascent of the sun. "In the meantime… my home suffers."

"I-" Damien stammers, but the monster does not turn towards him again. "I… am sorry," he says stiffly, and then Lord Arum scoffs.

"It is only us, now, little knight. There is no cause to pretend that you have a speck of care to spare for the suffering of either myself or my home."

"You…" Damien feels heat in his cheeks, feels inexplicable shame in his guts, feels sorrow rolling off of the monster in front of him in slow, undeniable waves. "Do... do not presume to know how I feel, Lord Arum."

"I do not need to presume," Arum says, his lip pulling into a sneer. "You have made your feelings rather intensely obvious."

Damien-

Damien supposes that he has. He swallows thickly, and then he gathers the dishes from their meal and turns back towards the door to his own temporary chambers.

"I... suppose I should leave you be, then. I'll accompany you to supper with the Queen in the evening," he says, only realizing how odd it is to say as the words leave him. "Until then- if you change your mind-" he reaches out, and raps his own knuckles off the stone beside the hidden door. "I will be... here, I suppose. I hope you will not be too bored in the meantime, Lord Arum."

The monster fails to look towards him again, his snout facing the window and his eyes distant, and he barely seems to notice when Damien takes his leave, precisely as unmoving as a statue until Sir Damien closes the door between them again.

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #tomorrow's some kind of strangerland #i dont even know anymore

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crystalessenceswrites · 3 years

Text

Burden of the Survivors-- Chapter One

*not my gif*

Burden of the Survivors

Pairs: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: a little bit of cursing but otherwise fairly tame *no spoilers- takes place in Season 1 timeline* Summary: Mando works alone- except for when he absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] or Available on AO3

A/N: It’s been ages since I wrote a reader series, I do my best to write them with as non-descriptive reader as possible but if there’s something I miss let me know. Reader does have a backstory and obviously has certain skills sets as a bounty hunter but I don’t believe that will cause any issues going forward. Also thanks to @fishingwithstring & @flyingmarshmallow64 for kinda beta-ing for me

Chapter One--

When you had given the Mandalorian your commlink info you had not thought the stoic man would actually use it. He had a reputation to uphold after all- he couldn’t be seen willingly working with another bounty hunter. You could respect that; the Guild was cutthroat and there never seemed to be enough credits or jobs to go around these days. The New Republic was a blessing and a curse to those trying to make a living in the Outer Rim. Your regular contacts were coming up short on good jobs and everything Karga was offering wasn’t worth the cost of fuel. It all had you wondering if you should take up running with Tillis’s crew again, the cuts were always fair and at least you weren’t burning credits on your own fuel.

Yet despite your initial beliefs, Mando had called, and he’d called with an offer for a job. They were high rollers from the underworld, apparently. Nothing you had not worked before. The first job you had worked with Mando on had been an under the table job from Karga as well. You allowed yourself the slightest bit of pride that after how well you two had worked together, Mando felt you would be a useful addition on this job.

You jumped on the offer. Whatever job Mando had taken had to be worth a decent stack of credits if he was willing to go with an even split. Hopefully, this would be enough to hold you over for a while, maybe pay for a few fixes to your ship while you were at it. The navicomputer could use an update, and there was the leak in the cooling lines that could probably use a proper fix instead of your last patch job… but you were getting ahead of yourself. Mando had asked you to meet him at his ship just outside of town on Navarro, which was convenient considering you had been laying over on the backwater volcanic planet after your last round of bounties. Karga may be cagey but at least he paid you what you were owed in the end.

Mando was waiting for you, leaning against the side of the Razor Crest, looking as much the stoic and hardened warrior as ever when you arrived. Though he had upgraded a bit since you last saw him.

“Looking spiffy Mando! Is that a new pauldron I see?”

He shrugs, pushing off the Razor Crest, “maybe.”

Man of few words, some things never change.

“You mentioned before that we didn’t have much to go off of. What do you know?” Hitching your bag of gear up your shoulder you follow Mando up into the Crest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been on Mando’s ship, but it amazed you every time you boarded how he managed to keep such a relic up and running. You would not be surprised if it cost him a fortune in repair costs over the years. Sure, your ship wasn’t a spring chicken either, but it had been built within your lifetime.

“Tracking fob.” He quickly fishes the device out of his belt, flashing it at you briefly. “Last known position and age.”

“Wait, not even a chain code?” That was just common courtesy in this line of work, and it kept mix-ups to a minimum. “Just the last four digits?”

Mando nods before clambering up the ladder to the cockpit leaving you stunned. Who exactly were you working for and who were they after?

After ditching your bag in the hull you follow Mando up to the cockpit. “How trustworthy is this client of yours?”

You lean against the doorway, watching him program the ancient navicomputer. “It’s underworld, what do you expect?”

“At least some minimal assurances,” you throw back, “I don’t want to end up a prisoner of the New Republic for the rest of my days if I can’t help it.”

“The chit came through Karga.”

Well, that was the definition of minimally reassuring.

“But no puck?”

Mando shakes his head, or rather, his bucket.

“Well, this will be interesting.”

“Arvala-7, can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” You’re sitting in the co-pilots chair with your boots propped up against the dash, fiddling with one your rifle sights as Mando attempts to pull planetary info up on his navicomputer.

Your partners huff of displeasure filters through his modulator, you can imagine he’s rolling his eyes behind the visor. Over the course of working together you had managed to pick up on a handful of the man’s cues, his body language was fairly expressive, and irritation with you was one you were aptly familiar with. It had been obvious from your first meeting that the Mandalorian was all work and no play. So, your occasional flippant remarks were not always received well. You were by no means trying to agitate the bounty hunter- you had better self-preservation skills than that- but you were trying to lighten the mood a bit. Two sticks in the mud didn’t make for an entertaining partnership.

Even after a few smacks to the computer Mando cannot seem to pull up the data he wants. His fists clench and unclench rhythmically, the creak of his leather gloves filling the silent cockpit. This one was wound way too tight. You wondered what mandalorians did to relax and unwind, and how exactly could you get him to do that before you landed?

“You’ve got the tracking fob, we aren’t completely screwed, if that’s what you’re all upset about, Mando.”

The helmet snaps around, his black t-visor staring unblinking into your soul.

Maybe that was not the best button to push.

“I’ll- ah, go get my stuff together.” You wince at the crack in your voice but gather up your blaster parts before preparing to shimmy back down into the cargo hold. You were a bounty hunter, same as him. His attitude should not unnerve you like it did. He was human like you after all- or at least you assumed he was- one faceless man should not affect you so strongly. You were better than this.

Master trained you better than this.

“Coming into atmo,” Mando shouts down from the cockpit, “may want to hold onto something.”

The ship lurches forward, throwing you into the back wall. “Thanks for the warning,” you grumble, latching onto the refresher door to stay upright.

Mando comes in quick, the Razor Crest touching down shortly after entering the atmosphere. Moments later the helmeted man is down the ladder, amban sniper rifle in hand and already heading down the ramp. Always in such a rush. The Mandalorian really had no clue as to how to stop and assess a situation or take a moment to breathe.

You scramble over to your bag of gear, assembling one of your own blaster rifles without having to look. It was all second nature now; you know every weapon in your stash like the back of your hand. As you slide the newly fixed sight into place a roar echoes through the ship followed by a loud curse. Down the ramp in seconds your blaster is trained on the approaching creature, ignoring Mando with his arm trapped in the jaw of another felled creature.

The tadpole-shaped beast falls before you pull the trigger, sliding in next to Mando with a bright red electro stun dart sticking out of its side. You let out a sigh as Mando groans, freeing his arm. At least your partner in crime was not out for the count yet.

A third creature approaches, this one saddled and ridden by an aging ugnaught wielding what you can assume was responsible for the stun darts. You lower your blaster, hoping that there would be no quarrel after he seemingly saved Mando.

“Thank you.” Mando’s panting as he stands, his arm clutched tight to his chest.

The ugnaught nods before looking back between you two. “You are bounty hunters.”

“Yes.”

“I will help you.”

You shrug at Mando, if he wanted to assist you with this odd bounty you had qualms.

“I have spoken.”

Kuiil had been more than accommodating to you both at his moisture farm. Offering up his bed to you for the night and sharing his dinner and a warm cup of tea with you both after the sunlight finally fell below the horizon. You jumped at the offer for any food that was not freeze-dried rations or protein bars. Mando on the other hand stiffened when the ugnaught passed him the meal.

“You can use the bedroom to eat, Mando.”

This was not the first time you had run into this problem while working with the Mandalorian. He never took the helmet off around you, not even in the safety of his ship, not to stop and eat while you were drifting along in hyperspace, or to fix up wounds after a particularly nasty fight with a quarry. You wondered if he even took it off to sleep when you were on board with him.

It was not as if you did not understand the draw of a helmet. The lifestyle of the faceless. You own tactical mask offers a small sense of anonymity, bringing some comfort after years of running from your past, but you were not unnaturally attached to it. Whatever tentative relationship you had with Mando; you were comfortable enough to take it off around him. You could eat in his presence. The mask did not inhibit your job or your lifestyle. While it had been ages since you had been in contact with mandalorians-other than the faceless and nameless Mando- you did have shadowy memories of those you had met taking off their helmets in the presence of others. Not that you had dared to ask about it. Your first few meetings had been tense enough and you liked to think you were smart enough to not insult the beskar clad warrior who walked around armed to the teeth.

Kuiil did not ask until Mando had settled into the other room. “He does not remove his helmet in the presence of others?”

“For as long as I’ve known him,” you nod.

“And how long have you known him?”

That was a good question. How many years had it been since you worked that job with Tillis’s crew that introduced you two?

“Four standard years now, maybe?” You ponder, “but we’ve only been working together for about two.”

He nods, looking thoughtful, “like a Mandalorian warrior of old.”

“I suppose,” you shrug.

��You do not agree with his choice?”

“Oh no, my opinions have nothing to do with it. Can’t say it appeals to me, but I respect the restraint it would take to wear a helmet all of your life.”

Kuiil nods before pottering off, cleaning up his small cooking station. You cannot help but smile, the ugnaught reminds you of someone but you cannot recall exactly who. They are just echoes of memories now, a childhood long gone, but something about Kuiil’s wise demeanor picks at them.

Mando returns moments later, shaking you from your melancholy as he takes a seat next to you.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

What kind of job exactly had Mando gotten for you two?

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

You gape at the ugnaught, unsure if his honesty was all that helpful now.

“Well then I don’t know if I want your help,” Mando scoffs.

Kuiil shakes his head, “you do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“Encampment?” Who in the galaxy would have an encampment all the way out here and how to Kuiil know about it?

He nods but divulges no further details.

“What’s your cut?”

“Half.”

Your head whips around, Mando had promised you half the cut already, that is why you had agreed to come in the first place.

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep.”

“No. Half the blurrg you helped capture.”

You left out the breath you did not realize you had been holding, gaze softening. The blurrg would not be an issue. “I can assure you Mando has no use for a blurrg.”

The helmet nods, “you can keep them both.”

“No. You need them. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

Mando sounds unconvinced, “I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

You did not happen to know how to ride a blurrg either, but you decided it would be best for everyone’s health to not mention it as the Mandalorian struggled the next morning to even stay on the creature. Mando had insisted on letting you attempt to ride first. Kuiil had kindly walked you through how to greet the beast and the best way to mount. You had struggled a bit, the tallest point on the blurrg’s back was nearly a head taller than you and required some interesting moves to get to but after some coaching you finally managed to get the hang of it. It was smooth sailing from there. They reacted to the reins about the same as most other animals and their walking rhythm was not too difficult to adjust to. After Kuiil seems satisfied with your progress and let Mando into the ring you thought maybe this job would not be all that bad.

Yet as you watched Mando fly off the blurrg’s back for the umpteenth you decided you had called that much too soon. For a man who always walked with such swagger you did allow yourself to enjoy the scene. Just a little.

Even the patient Kuiil was becoming frustrated with Mando’s slow learning curve.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet.”

That would never happen.

Mando’s shoulders stiffen, “perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.”

Kuiil shakes his head, “this is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

You try, you really do, but all your willpower combined at the moment is not enough to contain the laugh that bubbles up in your chest. “Ha! They’ve got the right idea.”

Mando’s helmet tilts back just a fraction. He’s rolling his eyes at you.

Kuiil chuckles softly at your side while you stick your tongue out at the bounty hunter. He blatantly ignores you, going in for another attempt at the blurrg. It ends the same of the others, Mando flat on his back in the dust.

You understand he’s frustrated, Mando’s never been the patient type, and just wants to complete the job and get back to working alone. A wound up, frustrated Mandalorian was never a good combo. Your hand hovers over the blaster in your thigh holster as he stalks towards Kuiil, just in case.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps at the ugnaught. “Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

“You are a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.”

Kuiil’s jab at his ancestry is enough to get Mando to try again. You look on as he approaches the blurrg, arms outstretched, murmuring calming words as he goes to pat the creature between its eyes. You would almost describe the scene as gentle. Not a word you’d have ever used to describe the helmeted man in the past. Where had this Mando been hiding all this time?

When you spot the compound in the distance the worries begin to creep up again. You wonder who exactly you were after and what Karga’s underground client wanted with them. People don’t just build fortified compounds on backwater, nearly uninhabited outer rim planets for no reason.

Kuiil points to the structure as the three of you come to a stop, “that is where you’ll find your quarry.”

Mando attempts to give Kuiil a pouch of credits. It was the least he deserved for all the help he’d given you. The ugnaught turns it down.

“Please. You deserve this.”

“Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.”

“Then why did you guide us here?” you ask.

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they are gone.”

Mando turns to Kuiil, “then why do you help?”

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you two will make quick work of it. Then there will be peace again.” The ugnaught guides his blurrg around, ready to make the return trip, “I have spoken.”

You and Mando sat for a moment, watching him ride away in silence.

For peace then.

#the mandalorian #fic: burden of the survivors #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #kuiil #the mandolorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #chapter one #crystalessences writes #bounty hunters

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 10)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Okay, I’m not happy with most some parts of this chapter, but I wanted to post it anyways cause I don’t really know how to make it better, and also I didn’t wanna be late on the Tuesday uploads so...here you go. Hope you like it, and I would love to hear from you! :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou

The King is too busy to demand your presence at his side more than a few scarce times a day, so you are free of the reminder of the new set of chains that are to be set upon you soon.

Still, it’s only two days since your…fate was sealed that you find yourself once again unmoored by the King’s whims and impossible to understand desires.

Helios has barely stated crossing the skies when you are roused from sleep, your heart beating the pace of a rabbit and images of a woman smiling behind a red veil haunting you with their etherealness, your mind not being able to latch onto what the Gods tried telling you.

When you are sent out to collect some crates of herbs and spices from a merchant that arrived the night before, you catch sight of, more than the usual curious or distrusting eyes set upon you, a single eyed man following your moves.

You turn to catch him, and he doesn’t bother pretending not to be following you. The white-haired man is a sight you recognize as one of the King’s warriors, and realization falls upon you.

Not only do you have people stationed outside of the home you sleep in, or soldiers bound to move you from place to place at the King’s whims, but you have men dedicated to following you when you walk around.

The old warrior probably senses your anger and unasked questions, and walks past you towards the crates you left on the ground, picking them up with ease.

“I’m here in case you try something…ill-advised.”

“Like working?”

“Like escaping.” He supplies, chuckling amusedly when you wrestle the crates from his arms with a huff.

Furrowing your lips, you stalk your way back to the apothecary. You could swear the old man makes his footsteps heavier on purpose as he walks behind you.

Almost half a day later one of the elders is teaching you -more patiently than you deserve- how to make a poultice to stop a wound from bleeding when the door opens suddenly, startling you from your work.

You watch with wide eyes as the King walks into the small shop, and judging by the sharp intakes of breath, the mutters and stares, the rest of the women are as surprised as you.

He still hasn’t announced his deranged plan to make you his wife, or at least hasn’t announced it to anyone that would start a rumor, for -thankfully enough- to the people of this kingdom you seem to be another freed slave, another merchant from a faraway land.

“Priestess.” Ivar calls out, and you walk from behind one of the half-walls, greeting him with the same taunt.

“Viking.”

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, pale eyes looking over the shop with disinterest.

You frown, recalling the anger that coursed through you earlier today, “Was I to be in my cell?”

He frowns, a furrow in his nose, “You are not a prisoner.”

“Then why are there armed men following me?” You fire back, quickly.

“Is there any other way to get you to do as I say?” He shoots back, the same taunt as that day in the docks, with Stithulf’s -his- chains around your wrists.

“I don’t think you really want me obedient, my King.” You dare say, and the smile you offer him reminds you of the one you used to sport before, when you felt free and safe. Right before starting the sprint to cross the fast spring on a jump, your hair wild and feet bare, your heart beating fast in equal parts fear and excitement.

When he limps closer to you, you remain in your place and look into his eyes, aware the King can sense your quickened breaths and rapid heart, but hoping he mistakes lust for fear.

A part of you that starved amongst the flowers of Eleusis rejoices in the risk, the thrill of it all.

And when you smile, you draw Ivar’s gaze to the curve of your mouth. And when his tongue runs over his lower lip, you realize you are not the only one whose breath is quickened.

“You will do as I say.” He orders lowly, through gritted teeth even if his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“You will stop treating me like a prisoner,” You offer back, the despair of having nothing to lose emboldening you more than you thought possible. And even if the words feel like poison, you finish, “And I will obey.”

“No,” He admits after a few moments of silence, voice barely a murmur, blue eyes travelling over your face and exposed skin, “I don’t think I want you to.”

“What do you want, then?” You ask, your voice just as hushed.

His eyes settle on yours, always angry and of course determined, but carrying now a hint of the almost-softness, of the hesitation, you believe you saw in those days spent in Aneridge.

He leans closer, voice quiet by your ear, “I want to offer an arrangement.”

“An arrangement.”

“Meet me tomorrow, and every day after that, Priestess,” He says, his voice carrying with authority even if the glint in his eyes almost begs you to defy him again. “Have all your meals with me.”

“Why do you ask this of me?”

“I told you, Priestess, you and I are not done talking,” He says, eyes searching yours, “In exchange, I will…loosen the chains.”

“I thought guests had no chains.”

“My guests do,” He dismisses, making irritation flare within you. Eyes searching yours, he presses, “They will come find you tomorrow, take you to me. You will have your day meal alone with me.”

“Are you ordering me to? Or asking?” You whisper back, pulling back so you can see his face. There’s a twitch of irritation, the very clear sign of gritted teeth, and a flare of something impulsive and that begs for a show of cruelty in his pale eyes; but he seems to hold himself back.

“I’m asking.” The King grits out finally. You allow yourself a small smile of triumph, that feels a little too genuine when you remind yourself who you are dealing with.

“Alright. I shall see you tomorrow then.”

The King smirks, and when he pulls away you recall the phantom feeling of his burning warmth and feel cold, but say nothing.

When the white-haired man closes the door forcefully behind him, you feel the eyes of every woman on you. You push yourself away from the table you were almost sitting on while the King pushed you into it, standing on shaking legs and trying to bring your breathing back to normal.

“That’s a first.” One of the women quips, a tall and blonde woman you notice carries the strut and posture of a warrior.

“A first what?” You ask cautiously.

“A first time that someone survives being that unbearably stupid,” She states, startling a laugh out of one of the others. You allow yourself a small smile, and the woman pats your back with quite a bit of strength. “You ought to be more careful, girl. Why do you test the man so?”

You can offer nothing but a sheepish grimace. She sighs, but there’s light in her eyes.

“At least we know the witch has a Viking side to her. No soft-hearted Greek would look into Ivar the Boneless’ eyes with that kind of anger.” Other quips from her place sorting one of the newest shipments of herbs and spices.

“Anger? Oh, that wasn’t anger, child.” An elder says with a laugh, directing a knowing side-glance to you. You pretend focusing on grinding Yarrow to avoid giving her an answer, although you fear your silence gave her one.

Conversation switches to the strange wares an Ottoman merchant has brought in as one of the elders starts distributing the bowls of food amongst the women, and it feels like being next to the fire on one of the cabins in the Silk Roads, Sieghild at your side guiding your hands to make arrows correctly.

You catch the eyes of the Völva on you while you are supping, and the gifted woman offers you a small nod of recognition and something else, but says nothing. You can still feel her gaze on you throughout the night.

When you go to bed, you catch tendrils of something you cannot quite place making you feel uneasy, but dismiss it and close your eyes hoping sleeps claims you soon.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you awaken with a jolt, the unfamiliar feeling of weight settling in your bed drawing a gasp out of your mouth. You catch a glimpse of blonde curls and blue eyes you know well, even if you don’t trust their intentions fully, and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling.

The faint smell of mint fills your nose as Freydis settles on your side. It feels like a tendril of a voice, the way the smell makes something odd and bitter blossom in your chest; but you cannot place your finger on what it could mean.

“You are a fool,” The girl chastises as she lays on your bed, leaving almost no space between the two of you. You grit your teeth and roll your eyes, but say nothing. She presses, “You should learn to play better, witch.”

This makes you rise from your bed, one of your hands supporting your weight as you sit and the other holding the sheets to your chest as your upper body leans towards the girl.

Playing games kept you from freedom once too many times.

Fooling Narses into believing you loved him broke your own heart, but you always assumed when the war was over and you were -most likely- dead, it wouldn’t matter.

But it did matter, and playing games chained you. To be an Anassa when all you wanted to do was run, to be a betrothed when you wanted to be your own before anyone’s, to be part of a Saxon’s army when you wanted to bleed every Christian for all they were worth.

Maybe playing games is the reason you are here today, a slave to a mad King’s whims and delusions.

“I know how to play, Freydis, I choose not to. One of the last choices I am able to make.” You bite back, the painful words uneasy in your tongue even as you bare your teeth in a snarl.

But the girl does not falter, her hand closing over yours where it rests on the bed, and her eyes certain when they meet yours,

“You have a chance to be what some only dream of, remember that.”

How much does she truly know? You narrow your eyes, wondering who could know of Ivar’s promises and demands other than you and the Gods themselves.

A part of you wants to tell her that if it is your place under Ivar the Boneless’ boot what she wants, she can gladly take it; but no, you don’t think that’s what she wants.

After considering her in silence for a few moments, you gently take your hand out of her grasp.

“I am sorry, but you and I dream of very different things,” You mutter, laying back down on the bed, “Being a voice in a madman’s ear is not what I aim to be.”

“A means to an end, witch.” She reminds you quietly, but you are shaking your head before she is even done speaking.

“Not by my means, I’m afraid.”

____

Your eyes narrow at the food placed before you, with what looks to be blueberries but not quite sprinkled inside the soft and creamy mixture.

“Priestess.” The King calls out, and when you lift your gaze you find him already watching you, something like exasperated curiosity in his pale gaze.

You offer a shrug and return your gaze to your plate, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Food,” He supplies dryly, offering you a downturned mouth as if ti say it’s true when you glare at him. After taking a bite out of what looks like a strange kind of bread, he supplies, “Färskost.”

You still have no idea what that means, but you nod and try the cream that tastes vaguely of cheese, and the berries that are not quite the ones of your home but surely taste like them.

You test the syllables in your tongue as you mix in more berries. A sudden huff of choked laughter startles you and you lift your gaze back to the Viking.

Before saying anything, he takes a drink from his cup, but you see the mocking smile on his lips.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You defend yourself, almost offended even if your lips want to curve into a smile as well.

“Sure.” He promises, boyish smile still on his lips, and you could swear a small chuckle leaves his lips -this time true, honest, instead of mocking or mischievous- when you roll your eyes at him.

“Váll' eis kórakas.” You mutter.

“What does that mean?”

“You are a smart man, you surely know.” You tell him instead, raising your chin with what you know is an annoying display of arrogance.

“Witch, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” The Prince, the man you recognize as Hvitserk, calls out as he approaches the both of you, easy smile on full lips. Stealing a glance to his brother, he adds, “I have to admit, you look much more alluring adorned in silk rather than chains.”

You recognize the jab at his brother even if you have none to speak of, and it is foolish protectiveness that makes you smile but still reply,

“It takes a smart man to see beauty in either way, they say.”

His surprise is written in the raise of his eyebrows, but his eyes shine with mirth; and where Ivar may have shown anger at your response, he only breathes a laugh.

“Not only beauty, it seems.”

You incline your head as a show of gratitude for the compliment, easy smile still on your lips even if it carries a bit of falsehood to it. You were never one to like pleasantries.

“Did you do as you were told to?” Ivar interrupts, leaning back in his seat and bringing a cup to his lips.

“My scouts say Ubbe will arrive in two weeks.” Hvitserk offers as an answer, but it is apparently not enough for the younger Viking.

“Will you finally cower and sail back to Dublin with him?”

It is with a sigh the other man answers, “I don’t know, Ivar. Clearly Kattegat has nothing I should stay for, so I might as well.”

The King raises his cup over his head, as if gesturing towards his brother, and though there’s nothing nonchalant in the gesture, he makes it appear so.

“And you have my blessing to do so! Why don’t you go ahead and find a Saxon woman to marry, like Sigurd?” His eyes narrow, “Might as well disappoint the Gods, like you disappoint father’s memory.”

“You think father would be proud of you?” The other man accuses, stepping closer.

“At least I’ve achieved something. I have my fame, a fame that will one day be even greater than father’s,” Ivar boasts, squaring his shoulders as his gaze defies Hivtserk’s, “What have you done, other than following others?”

“I’ve kept you from going to war with your own blood. I’ve prevented our brothers from killing you like they wanted to,” The Prince hisses, and at the vitriol in his tone you take your eyes from his enraged face to look at the King, who meets his eyes unwaveringly. “I kept Ubbe from killing you like you almost killed Sigurd.”

“Shut your mouth!”

The way the King’s hand quickly goes to the axe at the table, eyes furious like you have never seen before as they meet his brother’s, you have a feeling he was not supposed to bring that up.

Prince Hvitserk steals a glance to you, maybe gauging your reaction, maybe telling you to run, maybe asking for help. You remain still regardless.

“What will you do with that, Ivar?” Hvitserk dares, motioning to the axe on the table with his head. His eyes are hard but in the way he stands you see he is not certain about how this will unfold.

With a knot of uncertainty and tension in your chest, you keep your eyes jumping between the Prince and the King, waiting with baited breath to see what happens.

You remember when Narses laid his army at your feet, when he agreed to have his men fight the Saracens the way you told him to. You remember that thrill, that thrumming under your skin, that certainty that you held power unlike any other in the palm of your hand.

That was nothing, nothing¸ compared to the feeling of having those two armies crash against one another, the raiders and the defenders, the Saracens and the Attics, the enemies and the allies. Feeling the ground shake under your feet as they advanced, hearing the sound of war, witnessing the clash of the warriors; nothing compared to it, nothing taught you more of power than that first battle.

And in the stretched-thin stillness of the room, as the two brothers face one another, you cannot help but think about how similar it is to the moment the marching armies clash.

But with an irritated huff and leaning his body back onto the chair Ivar ends it before it can even begin. The Prince relaxes his stance as well, grunting something to himself before he takes a seat in the long table.

He doesn’t take his eyes of his brother though, not even as he calls your name.

Without waiting for you to respond, he says, “Whitehair will show you to your rooms. Go, and I’ll call for you later.”

“I have my own room?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and his eyes meet yours. The simmering rage you see in them startles you, but it doesn’t scare you even though you know it should.

“You are not a prisoner, are you?”

“This is not what I asked for.” You tell him lowly, even though you are already standing up from your seat.

“This is all you are getting.” He promises cruelly, and you are dismissed with but a gesture.

____

So that’s it, I hope you liked it. And, as always, I would love to hear what you think.

The food mentioned here it’s a sort of yogurt made in the Viking Age according to this source, made from cheese. The blueberries are bilberries, the Northern European version of the berries, according to this.

And what she says in Greek is a curse that I think is in Aristophanes, meaning “To the crows”, but that can be translated as a way of saying go fuck yourself, and I think it’s beautiful lmao. It has to do with the desecration of the dead bodies by the crows and all that, apparently.

Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you Saturday with Chapter 11!! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #νοσταλγία masterlist

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strafethesesinners · 3 years

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Tagged by @blissfulalchemist to post a fic from a year or more ago (? I think that’s how it goes). None of my Far Cry 5 is a year old yet, but I’ll take this opportunity to post this Dishonored oneshot I did back in 2016.

(I’ll tag some people if you want to do it or just want to read @risenlucifer @nightwingshero @chazz-anova @smithandrogers @madsismad @amistrio @chyrstis @consumedkings @faithchel @shallow-gravy)

Spoilers for the Knife of Dunwall Dishonored DLC Warnings for violence and gore Words: 2392 also on AO3

Daud was drowning. The icy, stinking water of the Wrenhaven River grew darker and darker above his head as he sank further into its depths. Daud was a strong swimmer, but something had a hold of his legs, pulling him down. He looked below him and screamed. Hundreds, thousands of corpses clogged the riverbed, clinging to his legs, his arms, and tearing at his clothes with rotting claws. Water rushed into his throat, but he could not close his mouth or his eyes. The more he struggled, the harder the bodies gripped him. They were screaming, moaning, begging for mercy. The water became blood: the blood of every person he had ever killed. It was choking him, yet he could not die. The pleading eyes of the corpses turned black and Daud understood: he was already dead and this was his hell. Still he fought against it, trying in vain to break free and reach the surface, but the ghosts clung on, all of them wailing as one.

“Mommy!”

Daud woke up shaking, his stomach curdling. He sat up and dry heaved over his blankets, but nothing came up. He tore off his sweat soaked shirt and tried to stand. It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing and bring his mind back to reality. It was barely after sunset, judging by the faint light coming through the glass-less windows. Daud lit a cigarette and walked out onto his small balcony on the top floor of the Chamber of Commerce building. He took a deep breath, welcoming the cool air on his sweaty face. The Flooded District smelled of Weepers, dead rats, and whale oil, but it was a familiar smell, and lately, Daud had been latching onto anything even vaguely comforting. He was starting to think his assassins were right, and he was losing it. He could sense them losing confidence in him day by day, and he was grateful none of them were here right now to see him trembling, and sweating, wearing only his trousers: terrified of a dream. But as his mind grew clearer, it seemed odd that no one was around. Daud’s eyes scanned the rooftops carefully. There were no Whalers in sight. A different sort of unease pricked at the back of his mind, as he tossed his cigarette butt away. Instantly, he was alert: listening, watching. He tensed. His scarred hands gripped the iron railing, the Outsider’s Mark glowing faintly on the back of his left hand. Daud was about to turn back into his room when he heard a click behind him, and the cold metal of a pistol pressed against the base of his skull.

He froze. There were only two people in the world that could sneak up on him undetected. Not sure which one he was dreading more, he spoke.

“Billie?”

“Yes.”

The shock of hearing her voice was colder than the hands of the nightmare ghosts. Daud now knew he would have gladly taken the Royal Protector over this; he would have taken anything over this. Daud’s mind was reeling, but he kept himself absolutely still, and his voice calm.

“You’re here to kill me.”

“Yes,” she said again, although it had not been a question. His dream came rushing back to him, and he was suddenly afraid. All these years he had often longed to die, but now a terrible thought occurred to him. What if these dreams were glimpses of what was to come? He never asked the Outsider, but he assumed that his spirit would go to the Void after his death. What if his fate was an eternity drowning in blood in the Void; tormented forever by those he had slain?

I don’t want to die, he thought, almost frantically, I can’t die. His heart was beating hard, but still he remained outwardly calm. Billie kept her pistol at his head, but had not moved to pull the trigger. Daud took her hesitation as a good sign. This would not be an easy thing for her. Daud had not become the most feared man in the Empire through violence alone; he was as cunning as he was ruthless, and he had talked himself out of sticky situations almost as much as he had fought his way out. If he could somehow convince her to spare him…..

“Billie…” he began.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this one, Daud,” Billie said. Her voice was clear; she wasn’t wearing her mask.

“You know me too well, Lurk,” he said wryly.

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing and you’re not going to change my mind.” The slightest tremor ran up her arm; Daud could feel it through the pistol point.

“Kill me then,” Daud said. She did nothing. Daud took a chance, and turned slowly around to face her. She did not lower the pistol, but neither did she fire. Billie’s eyes were wide, but there was a determined set to her jaw. It was an expression he knew well. She had the same look when they had first met, and she had dared to face him: clearly frightened and yet too stubborn to back down.

“Can at least ask why I’m about to die?” He looked her in the eye.

“You’re weak,” she replied coldly, “and old. This outfit needs a new leader. Someone to get us through this plague, and the chaos you caused by killing the Empress. I don’t want to do this, but it has to be done.”

“Does it now?” Daud snapped. There was an awful pain in his chest. Worse than any physical wound he’d ever had. It was a pain he hadn’t felt since he realized he would never see his mother again. “I always assumed one of you would kill me and take my place,” he said more softly, “ I just never thought…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He knew he was too compromised to get out of this one by talking, Billie was much too close to him and had learned all his tricks over the years; the realization made him sick. He had never felt so vulnerable.

“You’re right, Billie,” he said, “I always thought of myself as clever, but clearly I was a fool for ever trusting you.”

Billie smiled her little apologetic smile; the one she would wear when he scolded her for killing one guard too many, and she knew he didn’t really mean it.

“There’s more to it,” she said, “you deserve to know the truth. The woman you’ve been seeking, Delilah,”

“What about her?”

“She…..came to me, a while back. She offered me so much…...showed me a new way to see; she gave me so much more than you ever did. More than you could ever hope to give.”

Daud could hear the contempt in her speech and it hurt. But now anger was starting to burn in his veins. Of course it all came back to her. Delilah. She had taken his best fighter, his best friend even, certainly the only person he cared about in the world, and turned her against him. A familiar itch clawed it’s way down his arms, making his fingers twitch and ache for a blade. The sun went down behind the buildings, and the Flooded District was doused in the cool grey glow of twilight.

“The power she has, Daud,” Billie was saying, “you can’t even imagine. She’s stronger than you, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. And all I have to do to be at her side is…..get rid of you.”

She stared at him and her eyes were sad. Daud’s head was pounding.

“I’m sorry, Daud,” Billie said.

“Me too,” he said.

Daud’s hand flashed up and grabbed Billie’s arm, forcing it to the side. Her shot went wide, and he twisted her arm hard. She gave a gasp of pain, and the pistol fell over the railing into the muddy water far below. Daud transversed past her back into his room. He snatched his sword up from beside his bed, there was no time to grab anything else. Billie drew her sword. The metal floor was cold on Daud’s bare feet as they circled each other for a moment; the Outsider’s Mark burned hot. Billie sent a wristbow bolt at his head, and he dodged, then drove forward with a quick thrust at her midriff. She blocked it just in time, and pushed back against his blade. She stomped down on the top of his right foot with her boot, the pain made him falter and she beat his sword aside and punched him in the face. Daud hopped backward, ducking as another bolt flew over his head. He spat out a mouthful of blood with a curse, and then transversed behind her and struck. She turned and parried, and he blocked her retaliatory slash. They battled back and forth across the metal walkway that served as Daud’s bedroom for what seemed like an hour. It was hard to measure time during a fight. But Daud was the better swordsman, and he was closing on Billie when she crouched, opened her mouth, and screamed.

The sound was like a physical force. It lifted Daud up off his feet and sent him tumbling over the railing into his office below. He landed hard on his desk. For a brief moment he lay stunned; the air knocked out of him. Then her heard the sound of Billie blinking down next to him and jumped up as quickly as he could. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Her sword missed its target of his neck, but cut his shoulder to the bone. The pain of it spurred his desperation, and he attacked with everything he had left. Billie was never taken off guard, but his fury did seem to rattle her some. He managed to get in a few cuts of his own in as her first few blocks came too slow. But against her padded leather whaler suit, the damage was nowhere near as bad as when she hit him. Soon he was bleeding heavily from wounds to his forearms and chest, in addition to his shoulder,and his strength was starting to fade. He could barely lift his sword arm high enough to parry her strikes. He curled his Marked hand into a fist and sent a call out through the Void, but no assassins appeared. Billie must’ve told them ahead of time what she planned, and killed anyone who objected. Daud wondered if Thomas was dead, or if he had also turned against him. He retreated across the room. He tried one of the doors, thinking of escape, but they were barred from the other side.

Of course he thought grimly. He spied the open window behind his desk, and blinked over to it, using the last of his energy. He turned to locate her before he jumped. Billie was standing in the middle of the office. She raised her hand, and sent a shower of several shadowy darts flying at him. He blocked some with his sword, and covered his face with his other arm. But there were too many. One went through his thigh, three into his unprotected guts, and one into his chest. It had missed his heart he know, or he would already be dead, but he could tell it had punctured his lung. He fell to one knee, struggling to breathe. Billie came towards him, but stopped at his desk, just out of reach. Daud still gripped his sword tightly. She approached him slowly. He attempted one last weak slash, but she grabbed his wrist and wrenched the sword from his hand. Gently, she set it down on his desk.

“It’s over, Daud,” she said quietly.

“Looks like it, huh? I taught you too well,” he laughed, and blood came bubbling up his throat. He choked and coughed, the blood spattering down his bare chest and onto the wooden floorboards. He slumped back against his bookshelf. Billie stood watching him. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were wet. Daud had never once seen her cry. And yet, staring into her eyes, Daud knew she was still going to go through with it. He wasn’t ready to face the Void, but, now that it seemed inevitable, he wasn’t so afraid as before. There was no point. The best he could hope for was that he was wrong, and that there was nothing after death. And the worst…..Daud wondered if it was possible to fight ghosts in hell. He wanted to laugh again, but it hurt too much. Blood leaked steadily from the holes in his gut.

“It was always going to end this way, Daud,” she said, “You and me. It’s our nature. But you’re not as weak as I thought.”

“Thanks,” Daud coughed again. The pain was agonizing. “Could you find it in you to end it quickly?” he gasped out. Billie continued to stare at him, unmoving. Daud didn’t know how long it was going to take to die, maybe up to an hour depending on how bad the wound in his chest was, maybe even longer. But maybe that was all part of it. He never thought Billie hated him so much. He tried to reach up to her and she flinched back, still wary.

“I’m not going to fight you anymore, Billie, I just need you to do it now. If you ever had any….feeling for me at all, don’t let me die like this, make it a clean death.” She still did nothing, looking at him almost in disbelief now, as if she didn’t quite trust what she was seeing. “Billie, please,” Daud said, “don’t make me beg.”

Without a word, Billie took his sword from the desk and knelt down so she was level with him. She reached out and cupped his face in her gloved hand, and then drove his sword into his heart with all her strength. He convulsed once as his life bled away.

“Sorry, Daud,” Billie whispered.

Her whisper went on and on and turned into the haunting hiss of runesong, which became the mournful cry of whales. The pale blue light of the Void crept over his sight, obliterating everything else, and the Knife of Dunwall was dead.

#Dishonored #Daud #Billie Lurk #the knife of dunwall #dishonored fic #ok so I read this again and #y'all it's pretty damn good #if I do say so myself #Sorry about tumblr making it all single space i know it makes it hard to read #my writing #fanfic tag game #posting in the middle of the night but I'll reblog later

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silentprincess17 · 3 years

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Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Dusk of the First Day

TW: rope burns, emotional trauma.

They left her there

In the sun

With a shirt half ripped, mercy to the wind, sand and heat.

He didn’t know where to look.

He wanted to see if she was okay.

But he didn’t want to ruin whatever shred of dignity she had left.

So, he stood sideways. If anything moved into her vicinity he would know. Not like he could do much, but it would be better for him to at least know.

Would it though?

The guilt seared through him, branding him more than the wound under his eye could. He pressed his head against the bars. He felt so wrung out, so weak. He was used to fighting, to being able to actually do something. He’d never been so helpless before. The irony was that he’d received training to deal with interrogation in case the Yiga ever captured him. He’d been trained under Sheikah tutelage, specifically, about methods to hold in one’s emotions and pains whilst imprisoned by the enemy.

But… he had not received training for what to do when it was the Princess being tortured. Whilst he watched. Powerless. What was he supposed to do when the person whose life he was meant to defend with his own was being humiliated in such a vulgar way? The worst thing was that he’d completely and utterly failed to handle the responsibility he has given. She was entrusted to him by the King, and he had failed. He’d failed not only as her Appointed Knight, but as her supposed Hero, and that seared the most. Some counterpart he was to her soul if he couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

Eventually the same researchers came back, this time accompanied by some Yiga Foot soldiers. Link felt unbridled fury run rampant through him at the sight, because despite his fatigue, he still had enough strength to swear on the Golden Three he'd avenge her. He'd find them, and he'd make sure they regretted even setting eyes on his Princess.

"No change still. Hm. Prolonged exposure made no difference. Well, that's... good news. Let her down, now."

Link was extremely confused, at this whole scenario, but he ignored that, right now his focus would be on Zelda. And trying to help her. He pulled his tunic off and turned his gaze away from the world outside.

“Don’t fight Hero, or we’ll put her in chains. Don’t think we won’t. You might want to cover her up. Or maybe you’ll enjoy the sight too, not like she ever gave you much joy otherwise."

Link was too emotionally drained to pay much heed to their words, he'd already seen the clamps in their hands before they brought Zelda over and hence knew it was useless trying to intervene. The same thing that happened earlier today would repeat itself and this time Zelda would much closer and he just-

They snickered away, teleporting out once they shoved her in.

He didn’t look at her, couldn't bring himself to. He felt so ashamed. He offered his tunic to her, with his hand behind his back, still not looking.

He felt her take it.

And then he heard her sink to the floor.

He didn't know what to do. Did he try to step closer? He wasn’t sure that was what she would want right now. Hell, even at the best of times she hated his presence, and whilst it had felt like they’d turned a new leaf last night… a lot had happened since then.

She sniffed. And his heart broke. “Is the sight of a tainted Princess so disgusting that the Great Hero of Hyrule, blessed by Hylia herself, can’t lay his oh-so-holy eyes on her?”

He spun and was by her side in a second, kneeling. “You could never be tainted.”

The sand clung to her hair, and all the way along the side of her face and neck, both of which had reddened a little from all the exposure to the sun.

She laughed but it was sarcastic, dripped in venom. And it made him scared. “That’s the first I’ve ever heard you speak. Keen to defend your honour Hero?” She scoffed. “I’m sure somehow father will still find a way for this to be my fault. If only you spent more time in dedication to the Goddess, then maybe she would have blessed you with the powers that would have allowed you to get out of this situation. You would have been stronger than them. You would not have allowed yourself to be humiliated.”

Goddesses above. The power. Fundamentally, everything came back to the Calamity... It was so powerful, hell, even it's impending arrival had already wrecked havoc with their lives. He didn't have the answer to her powers, but he wasn't so sure the key was with prayer to the Goddess. He was just as clueless with the sword, and if it would be enough, but it wasn't right to bring that up now. It would be like rubbing salt into her wound. Because at least he had the sword. And... he sort of understood what she was doing. And he’d let her do it. She was hurt. He was too, but he’d shoulder any burden of hers he could. “And he’s silent again.”

Crap, he hadn't meant- “I’m sorry Princess. I’m really sorry.” He didn't know what else to say. He bowed his head, the sight of her burnt and upset felt like a stab to his soul. He heard her sigh, and then she knelt back against the very bars his hands had become blistered, red and swollen from hitting so much.

He hesitantly sat down next to her, wary of her boundaries.

They stayed like that for a while, until she caught sight of his hands. She reached over and traced a faint line over where his skin had split open from the abuse it had received. Sand lined the edges of the wound and he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it stung. And then she shuffled just a little closer.

Link took a series of small half-panicked breaths. He moved, very slowly, as though she was made of glass that could shatter and touched his fingertips on her shoulder. She leant back a little, so his whole hand was now touching her. He took that to mean it was okay to touch, and slowly wrapped his arm around her fully. She shivered, and he started to rub his hand up and down her arm, in an attempt to warm her up.

He observed her throughout. At any sign of discomfort, he would stop, but she hadn’t shown any yet, only leaning into his arm slightly.

Her lower lip trembled. He immediately stopped. She shook her head, “I’m overreacting. I just asked for forgiveness yesterday and look at what I’m doing today.” She blinked rapidly; he could tell she was holding back tears. “It. It could have been worse. I still have my chest guard on. So. They didn’t cut through that.”

He was relieved, honestly, because she’d been spared that, but regardless it was humiliating. “It doesn’t make your pain any less valid Princess, regardless of how many layers they cut through.”

She stiffened at his validation, his corroboration that it wasn’t her fault, because that is what this was about truly, that is why she brought up her father, and her inability to unlock the power. She angrily brushed back the few tears that had dared to make their way through.

He felt sick, bruised and battered, watching her. It was heart-breaking. “It’s okay to cry Princess. It doesn’t mean they’ve won.”

She stared hard at his chest, before slowly looking up to him, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Truly properly seeing him. He guessed it was hard to know someone's intentions if they remained silent. He’d promised himself today though, there was no one here to put a façade on for. And he vowed that he would at least try to help her, even if he didn’t know how.

She latched onto his other arm, fisting the fabric in her hand, and slowly laid her head down on his shoulder. He assumed he said the right thing then, and he slowly exhaled a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in.

Something his mother had always done for him whenever he’d hurt himself as a child was to brush through his hair. He wasn’t sure that would be appreciated here though. He didn’t want to touch her more than she allowed. What else could he do?

… the lullaby. He knew the lullaby. He could hum the lullaby. He waited for a while, letting her breathing settle a little. He wasn’t sure how she’d respond. She felt so fragile in his arms, like a frightened deer and he was terrified of scaring her away, of hurting her more than she had suffered through already.

A few minutes passed and she was still gripping his shirt, still rigid and tense, and he decided it was worth a shot. He could always stop if she told him too.

She inhaled, sharply, once he started. And then she leaned closer still, until her head was practically on his chest, her ear pressed against his sternum. Could she tell his heart rate had tripled since she moved closer?

He felt, rather than heard, her tears. They pierced through his thin undershirt, blot by blot, each one a stab to his heart.

He would be lying if he didn’t cry too, and it messed up the rhythm a little.

And she looked up, sitting up a little so she could see more of him, probably wondering why his voice had cracked halfway through. And she gasped. “What-”

She raised a hand to his face, and gently brushed the tears away from his left eye and then hovered over his right.

Oh. Oh yes, he’d been hurt. He imagined it probably wasn’t a pretty sight, a fairly deep gouge into the skin between his eye and cheek. He didn’t have her needles so he couldn’t fix it. Even if he did have thread, it wasn’t like he could even see it. It throbbed but it felt nothing compared to the turmoil that had run through him the entirety of the day.

“I refused to look.”

And his gaze flitted from her over-filled eyes, the dull haunted look in them making his heart twist for the umpteenth time today, to her wrist.

And he almost had a heart attack.

Dear Goddesses, he was going to end up with severe cardiac problems after this.

He gently grasped her hand and turned it so he could see properly. Her entire wrist was mangled, red, sore… Chapped from rope burns, no doubt, as she tried to wrench free at the posts.

She sighed. And held up her other hand, and then brought her ankles close, all of which were in a similar state, her ankles less so because it was harder to twist against rope with them.

And then she got out her kit. She moved to him first and he was horrified, snatching it out of her hands and pointing towards the designated bed area. She frowned. He didn’t back down. To hell with her taking care of him, after today.

She shuffled across, probably realising that this was a fight she was doomed to lose. As he moved to clean the wound with the little cup of water the Yiga had left them when they’d dropped Zelda off, she stopped him. “We shouldn’t waste water this way, Link. We both need to drink it rather than clean wounds out. Dehydration trumps infection in the causes of death order, Sir Link.”

He accepted; she was right. Who knew when the next water-cup would come? He keenly felt the loss of his pouches, for the small first aid kit he always carried, and the antiseptic cream he had. He did the best he could, using small pieces of Champion blue cloth to bind around her wrists and ankles, in a makeshift bandage. And then he got unceremoniously pushed into the wall, and he grimaced at the sight of the needle in her hand. He wouldn’t be asleep this time.

He still couldn’t really look at her though, he felt guilty, because the wound was proof that he had failed to protect her honour, even from himself.

“None of this is your fault Link.”

How did she know him so well? Perhaps she’d spent more time observing him that he’d thought. “I failed you Princess. Again. I let them take you. I-” His voice broke. He couldn’t actually voice the rest of his apology, the words scraped against his throat, foul and bitter as shame paralysed him.

She swallowed. “We could play the whose-fault-is-it game all day. Ultimately neither of us are to blame. I’m tired Link. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He nodded his assent, and he let her fix the wound. She used small careful stitches which he could tell she did as quickly as she could, so that she didn't cause him excessive pain. And then she wrapped some of the material around his hands in a makeshift bandage. The pain was nothing though. Nothing compared to the dread he felt as to what would come next.

Because today was just day one. What would happen tomorrow?

She eventually finished, and then came to sit next to him. They split the water, and although he tried to make sure she got more than he did, she refused and they each got half equally.

“Hypothermia.” Is all she said afterwards, and he knew what she meant.

This time, though he felt her tears instead of her smile, and he felt completely and utterly useless. She didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. He understood, that perhaps right now they were in survival mode, and that is why she didn’t want to think about it too deeply because who knew what horrors awaited them tomorrow. But he worried for her, he always did, because he knew the scars this whole experience would have would be lasting.

That was a depressing line of thought and he was treading dangerous waters. He needed to think about how they were supposed to get out. He needed to make sure this didn’t happen again. He needed to actually protect her damn it. He leaned back. What could he really do, stuck as they were? What were the tips he'd been taught on how to handle an imprisonment? Perhaps the first thing to do was to try to figure out what the captors wanted. Usually that was pretty obvious, information or money but it wasn’t so clear cut here.

It just didn't make sense, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the Yiga Clan wanted from this. The thing the researcher had said when stopping the Blademaster- something about it not working... was he talking about Zelda's sealing powers not awakening? He must have, seeing as the Blademaster more or less confirmed that when he taunted Zelda for being unable summon Hylia. And then when the researchers had come to let Zelda down, it seemed to be more of a... conclusion to their experiment. Link wasn’t a scientist, but he’d silently observed plenty of simulations that the Sheikah and Zelda had run on various parts of Ancient Technology. It was a process akin to what happened today- there was some sort of plan beforehand, then the “subject” - most often a Guardian - was prepared, and the planned programming was completed and then the results recorded.

But... Link couldn’t match that criteria with what had happened to Zelda. Just what were the researchers trying to get out of the whole thing? What was their initial plan- i.e why conduct, this-this experiment to torment Zelda to try to get the power to show itself? Surely that was counterintuitive to their overall aim? Because awakening her powers would mean the Darkness would be sealed and that was completely against what they wanted? Which brought him back to what, exactly, was their end goal? Had it changed? It didn’t seem so... And why had the Yiga changed their plan from assasination to... torture? For the life of him he couldn’t understand...

Chewing on his lip he decided it was worth a shot, to try to sift through the memories of lives he’d had but not lived himself, and… he even decided to try to look through the last Hero’s one. He sighed, he always felt uncomfortable with the memories. The thing was that they were like snapshots in time, and they were not… organised in any meaningful way. The whole thing was one big mess of emotion, because most of them were glimpses of things that his predecessors had felt strongly about, those were the ones that they unconsciously imprinted on the sword, and it carried those memories through for each wielder that followed. Maybe it thought there was a lesson to be learnt from each one, or maybe it just wanted a memento of each Hero. Who knew, the sword had a mind of its own.

So, whilst he knew he’d transformed into a wolf, he had no idea why or even how it had happened. The only time he'd get a semi-coherent sequence of events was during his dreams. Those often flowed a lot better than him trying to access the memory whilst conscious, which confused him but really, was anything about the Master Sword simple?

And that was why he’d found it so hard to understand just what was going on in the life of the Hero who was his direct comparator, the one who had succeeded the last time this had happened. The truth of the matter was, Link felt incredibly depressed, every time he thought of what happened 10,000 years ago.

For starters, the guy had it all. Link could only vaguely remember something glowing blue with a distinct sense that it was “Sheikah” so he assumed that was from the inside of one of those shrines, and it was accompanied by a feeling of “training programme”. And the rest of the memories pre-calamity were of… well. This was the part that used to disturb and plague him the most, because clearly, this Hero had a good working relationship with his Princess, and it was probably not just working. Okay it was definitely not just working, but Link refused to think further on that before, especially considering his own tenuous relationship with His Princess. The only other significant thing, alongside a bucketful of reminiscences with the Princess of that time, was some sort of glowing hand, which Link for the life of him couldn’t figure out but it seemed important. Oh, and also a crimson-coloured mist thing, but he wasn’t sure- because the whole thing seemed to be blurred around the edges. What was even more bizarre, was that there was barely any feeling of fear associated with the two things, it was weirdly relief more than anything else. And that frankly made him very frustrated. Relief at facing destiny? Just how prepared was this Hero? The whole thing left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, more so than the others because Link felt anything but prepared.

He sighed, the other thing with the memories were that he couldn’t just summon up what he wanted, and it would appear. It was more like he’d have to file his way through, and hopefully happen upon whatever it was he was searching for. And only now, after revisiting Mr Successful, did he actually remember that the Sheikah were still united back then, so there was no Yiga. They just didn't exist. Wonderful. Another reason why he hated to dwell on the seemingly illustrious journey that Hero had had.

He refocused. This wasn’t about that time. Why else would the Yiga have captured them, other than a sick sense of humour with the whole experiment? Was there any other purpose for this whole thing? His mind continued to wrack with the problem, and he watched as the moon moved across the sky.

Eventually, the Princess’s breathing evened out, as she fell asleep in his arms. At least she’d managed to sleep, he wasn’t sure she would, all things considered.

He sighed. The only other idea he had was that the whole thing was a farce, so they could exact revenge against the Royal Family for the humiliation they underwent all those eons ago and were banished. Clearly, they still used Ancient Sheikah Technology, the likes of which he’d never seen before. But still, surely the aim would be to kill them both to ensure Ganon’s revival would be unhindered? Not that he minded they hadn’t killed them yet; it was relieving to know they still had a chance, even if it was due to some sort of study.

He was distracted when she started to shiver, flinching inwards and he could only imagine what horrors she was seeing in her dreams. He grasped her tightly, running his fingers through her hair as he hummed her lullaby, hoping it would calm her, just as much as it did for him. Thankfully it worked, she settled back down, although now her knees were also pressed against his abdomen. He didn’t think it was a very comfortable position, but he didn’t want to disturb her, given she’d only just relaxed.

He, meanwhile, remained wide awake, tensed as bowstring. He would be ready next time.

20 notes · View notes