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lostinthewiind · 3 years

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Piss Off Your Parents - Part 5

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: arguing with parents, stereotyping?, reader's parents just being generally horrible people, angst

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 4

Next → Part 6

"This is a horrible idea," you whispered to yourself as you got ready in your bedroom mirror, unable to concentrate for more than five minutes without a small panic attack taking over.

Your eyes flicked over to your clock every few seconds. Keishin was due to arrive at your family house for dinner in about thirty minutes and with every minute that passed, you asked yourself over and over again why you ever agreed to this.

Originally, when your parents had insisted on meeting your 'boyfriend' over a family dinner, your heart had dropped into the pit of your stomach; it was the worst feeling you had ever experienced . . . until you told Keishin about it jokingly and he actually agreed. Never before had you felt so sick to your stomach. Dinner was the last thing you wanted, and to make it worse, it was going to be dinner with your parents and fake boyfriend.

Shit.

More than once you had contemplated pretending to be sick or throwing yourself down the stairs, but you just couldn't go through with it. Every time you got close to backing out, a small part of your brain reminded you that this dinner might be the thing that changed your parents mind, and even though the odds of that actually happening were close to none, you couldn't give up without even trying.

So, with knots in your stomach and your palms sweating like never before, you continued getting ready for the evening and prayed that everything went as smoothly as possible.

If only you had known then that it would take much more than a prayer to save this evening.

When you heard the doorbell ring approximately thirty minutes later, your whole body froze and the thought of jumping out your second story window was starting to sound really appealing. But then, you remembered that it would be way worse if your mom or dad answered the door before you could so you rushed out of your room and down the stairs.

"I've got the door!" you shouted throughout the house, almost as if you were marking the front door as your territory and trying to scare anyone else away from it.

Standing in front of the door, you drew in a few deep, calming breaths before plastering a forced smile across your face and pulling the door open. Let the night of hell begin.

As soon as your eyes settled on Keishin, your smile faltered and you gasped. His dyed blonde hair was slicked back like usual, but instead of a headband, it was clear he had used gel. He had every hole in his ear stuffed with a black earring, and to top things off, he had showed up in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

"What?" Keishin took a step back and examined his outfit. "You said to go all out. I did."

"I know, I know . . . I just . . ." You took a moment to compose yourself. "I didn't even know you owned a leather jacket."

"Yeah, well, you don't know everything about me," Keishin smirked devilishly, proud that he still had a few secrets to himself. "Well, are you going to let me in? I kind of want to get this dinner over with."

Opening the door wider, you stepped to the side and let Keishin inside your house. "You and me both," you agreed. "You sure you want to do this? We could both make a run for it right now if we act fast."

Shrugging the jacket off of his shoulders, Keishin shook his head. "Come on, at least give your parents a chance to change their minds."

Just then, your father's heavy footsteps could be heard exiting the kitchen and approaching the front door where you and Keishin stood together. Swallowing hard, you wiped the sweat from your palms on your clothes and sent one last pleading thought up to the heavens above, hoping that if there was a great being up there, they could be on your side tonight.

This was it. No turning back now.

"If your boyfriend has arrived, Y/N, please don't keep your mother and I waiting. Introduce us." Your father rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks when he set eyes on Keishin. Sure, you had told your parents all about your 'boyfriend', which was why they had insisted on this dinner in the first place, but Keishin was a man that words couldn't quite capture. "Oh. Hello." Your father reluctantly held out his hand to greet Keishin.

"Hello, sir." Keishin shook your father's hand without hesitation. "I'm Ukai Keishin. Keishin is fine though."

Seconds later, your mother joined the three of you. She had a similar reaction as your father had and was not subtle about it in the least. "So this is the man you've been seeing?" Your mother gave you an almost pleading look, like she was silently begging you to come clean and admit that you were joking.

Right off of the bat, things were not going well.

"Well, let me take your jacket and hang it up in the closet." Your mother stepped toward Keishin with the fakest smile you had ever seen on her face.

"Oh, there's no need." Keishin hung his jacket on the banister of the stairs. "I'll just end up taking it out in a little while anyway when I go out for a smoke. It's easier this way, but thank you."

You watched your mother's eye twitch and the smile she had forced threaten to crack. "You smoke?" You could tell that both of your parents were on the brink of snapping right then and there, but they had promised to actually get to know Keishin, and despite all the horrible things your parents did, breaking promises was not one of them.

"I do." Keishin grinned. "I know, I know, it's not good for me. Y/N tells me to quit all the time so I'm trying."

You let out a nervous chuckle as both your parents turned to face you. "Shall we head into the living room?" You started ushering everyone into the other room, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Yes, let's have a seat." Your father nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Keishin, watching him like a hawk. "Can I get you anything to drink, Keishin?"

"Just a water is fine, thanks." Keishin had obviously decided not to push his luck too hard because you had been fully expecting him to ask for a beer.

With that, both your mother and father disappeared into the kitchen; your mother to finish dinner and your father to collect the drinks.

Taking the brief moment of reprieve to breathe, you looked up at Keishin. "I've never seen my parents struggle between their flawless hospitality and kicking someone out of their house so much in my life," you chuckled lightly.

"I'm a bit of a shock." Keishin placed his hand on your lower back and led you toward the couch. "I brought out all the stops in the beginning so they could have the whole night to get used to me."

"How kind of you." You sat down, slightly caught off guard when Keishin sat down right next to you and slung his arm over your shoulders. You were about to ask him what he was doing, but then you remembered that the two of you were supposed to be an actual couple and this is what couples did.

As soon as you felt his touch on you, however, your mind flashed back to that night in the park a few weeks ago. Since then, neither one of you had spoken about what had happened on that bench; a wordless agreement between the two of you that you would just move on and pretend it didn't happen.

But as much as you pretended to forget, you never actually could. The feeling of Keishin's hands on your sides and his warm breath on your lips kept you up at night. As much as you tried not to think of him like that, you just couldn't help yourself.

"You seem really nervous," Keishin leaned closer to you a whispered. "You okay?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just trying not to freak out is all."

"Hey." Keishin tilted your head toward him so he could look you in your eyes. "You're their daughter. No matter what happens, they will always love you. Remember that."

You flashed a smile. Somehow, Keishin knew exactly what to say to help you relax. "Yeah . . . thanks."

Just then, your father returned with two glasses of water in hand. Handing one each to you and Keishin, you didn't miss the way his gaze settled on the sight of Keishin's arm around you.

"Thank you." Keishin grabbed his glass right away and took a sip. You, on the other hand, let your glass sit on the coaster on the table. Despite how dry your mouth was, you didn't trust your shaky hands to pick up the glass.

"Dinner should be ready soon," your father said as he sat down in his armchair across from you and Keishin. "So, Keishin, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"Well, currently, I spend most of my time coaching the boys' volleyball team at Karasuno high school," Keishin answered, his eyes lighting up a little when he spoke about the team he coached; you could tell he really enjoyed it. "And my family owns Sakanoshita Market and I work there sometimes."

"Sakanoshita Market," your father repeated. "That sounds familiar."

You rolled your eyes, not surprised in the slightest that your father had forgotten the name of the place you had been working at for the past few months. "That's where I work, Dad," you told him. "That's how Keishin and I met."

"I see." Your father eyed Keishin and you were surprised that Keishin didn't shrink under the cold, hard gaze like you usually did. "So do you go after all the young women who work at your family store or just my daughter?"

"Dad!" you gasped, unsure whether to tell him off or apologize to Keishin on behalf of your father.

"It's okay," Keishin told you calmly before answering your father's question. "Actually, the store hasn't seen a new employee in years. For the longest time, it was just my mother and me. We are both very grateful for all the hard work Y/N puts in to help us with the store. She is a wonderful employee."

You couldn't help the blush that tinted your cheeks at the compliment. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's the truth," Keishin said before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "And good thing you took the job too, or else we would have never met."

Keishin then shot a sparkling grin your father's way, completely blinding him and distracting him from the shocked expression on your face. You knew you told Keishin to act like the two of you were really a couple, but you never expected him to play the part so thoroughly.

Your father opened his mouth to no doubt interrogate Keishin some more, but before he could, your mother began setting the table and announced that dinner was ready.

Moving over to the table, you took a seat across from Keishin while your parents sat at the ends of the table. As your mother brought the dishes of food over, you took the chance to drink some water and parch your dry throat.

The thought of having to keep this awkward conversation up gave you a headache, but thankfully, Keishin seemed to be handling everything quite well. Just as you had expected, he took everything with a grain of salt and refused to let your parents get under his skin.

You wished you were able to do that.

After the four of you bowed your heads and said thank you for the food, you dug in. At first, everyone was too busy eating to say anything. Somehow, the silence was worse than when your dad had been firing off questions rapid fire.

"This is delicious," Keishin was the first to speak. "Thank you again for inviting me for dinner."

"Yes, o-of course," your mother wavered a little but somehow managed to voice her fake pleasure nonetheless. "Y/N has never dated anyone before so we were curious as to what kind of . . . person . . . had caught her eye."

Keishin nodded, letting the not-so-subtle rude comment roll right off his back. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, here you are indeed," your father muttered under his breath. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Keishin had heard it, but you certainly had. "So, you said you coach high school volleyball. Is this a long-term thing or?"

Keishin thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure, honestly. I do enjoy it but I've never given much thought as to if I want to do it long-term. I started coaching because of special circumstances and just haven't stopped yet."

"Well, plenty of people coach and teach," your mother said. "You seem to enjoy working with kids, so have you ever considered becoming a teacher?"

"That doesn't sound like the worst job, but that would require me to have a teaching degree, which I don't have," Keishin responded.

"What degree did you get in university?"

Keishin chuckled. "I didn't go to university."

Oh God. Your jaw dropped and you wished that a black hole could just open up underneath you and suck you in. Out of all the things your parents hated most, people who didn't go to university were at the top of the list. They always told you that 'people who didn't go to university had no interest in investing in their future.'

Hence why they always pushed so hard for you to go the university they wanted so you could study what they thought would be best for you.

You watched your mother's face go red as she reached for her glass of wine a take a particularly large sip. "Community college, then?" she squeaked out.

"Nope, afraid not," Keishin answered, completely unashamed and even proud. "I started working for the family store right after high school."

The looks on your parents' faces that they didn't even try to hide filled you with a deep sense of shame. You didn't know how they could be so blatantly rude to someone they barely knew . . . well, actually, you did know, and that was the worst part. As much as you wished you could deny it, you had thought the same things about Keishin when you had first met him.

Hanging your head in shame, you let the suffocating silence of the dining room take over.

Feeling something brush against your leg, you looked up to see Keishin smiling at you from across the table. 'It's okay' he mouthed to you. You thought back to the time Keishin had told you he was a big boy who could take a little verbal ribbing and exhaled through your nose sharply, your mood lifting ever-so-slightly.

Keishin brushed his foot against your leg a few more times to remind you that you weren't alone at this dinner before he attempted to restart the conversation. "So what do you two do for a living?" he asked, looking to your parents.

"We are both lawyers," your father said.

You nodded and sighed. "Hence why they want me to go to law school."

"Oh, honestly, Y/N, you say that like paying for you to go to law school is abuse." Your mother shook her head disapprovingly. "Do you know how many children would kill for the opportunities you have been given and yet you want to throw them away just like that? You should be grateful."

You were about to retort but stopped yourself before you did, knowing that it would only serve to start the same argument that you had lost over and over again. No matter what you said on the matter, your parents refused to try and see things from your perspective.

It never once occurred to them that you might actually not want to be a lawyer.

"Tell me, Keishin, if you had a child who you could pay for to go to law school and they told you they wanted to pursue their dream of playing soccer, what would you do?" Your father turned to Keishin, suddenly interested in what he had to say on the issue.

"Dad, let's not talk about that now," you spoke softly, hoping to get him to change the subject.

"No, no, let's hear what Keishin has to say." Your father insisted.

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I think I would just want my child to be happy," he said, his eyes leaving your father to look at you. "I made the mistake of not following my dreams after high school and I regret it every day, so I would tell my child to follow their dreams and try my hardest to be there to support them."

You smiled wide, surprised by how emotional Keishin's words made you feel. For a moment, it was just you and him, and he was saying everything you had ever wanted to hear. All you ever wanted for was someone to be in your corner . . . someone to support you whether your choice was a mistake or not.

"Congratulations, Y/N, you've found a dreamer just like yourself," your father scoffed, breaking you out of your happy trance. "Too bad dreams don't pay the bills."

"Well, when your future is working at a family-run corner store, dreams are all you have," your mother cackled, not even trying to be quiet about it.

Your father laughed as well. "Too true, honey."

"Mom!" you shouted at her, your anger taking over before you even had the chance to think about your actions.

"It's okay," Keishin told you again, reaching across the table for your hand.

You shook your head and tugged your hand out of his reach. "No, it's not okay!" You rose to your feet, finally having had enough. "This dinner was a terrible idea. I cannot believe you!"

"If you've finally come to your senses, darling, we can send Keishin on his way and-" your mother reached for you as well but you shrugged her off.

"I'm not talking about Keishin! I'm talking about the two of you!" You slammed your hands down onto the table, shaking the dishes of food. "The whole night you have been making offhanded remarks and rude comments about Keishin while he has been nothing but the perfect guest. I'm sorry, Keishin, but I can't sit here and let you take their abuse anymore. I've dealt with it my whole life and I won't let them do the same thing to you. You don't deserve that."

"Y/N, you're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" your father asked, sipping his wine as if nothing was happening, which only made you angrier.

"No, father, I don't think so," you snapped back. "I think that you and Mom are being horrible and I cannot believe that this is how you're acting when meeting someone for the first time. What makes you think that you have the right to treat someone so poorly just because they don't live the same life or have the same ideals as you? You think you know what is best for me but you don't even know me, so how could you?! I would rather work at the corner store for the rest of my life if it meant being genuinely happy over being a snobby, emotionless lawyer any day."

While you vented in front of your parents, Keishin just stared at you wide-eyed, completely floored by how quickly your demeanor had changed from shy and uncomfortable to enraged and animated in mere seconds. The last time he had seen you like this was when you were going off on him and he was grateful your rage wasn't directed at him this time.

Aside from relieved, Keishin felt proud; proud of you for standing your ground.

An embarrassed look flashed across your mother's face. "Y/N, please-"

"No, just don't," you lowered your voice and took a few deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm going to put up with your plans for me just so I can have a roof over my head. Mom, Dad, I'm not going to law school. I'm not letting you dictate my life anymore. I'm done."

Stepping away from the table, completely emotionally drained, you looked over your shoulder at Keishin. "Come on, let's go." You waved for him to follow.

Without a word, Keishin stood from the table and followed you to the front door where the two of you grabbed your jackets and got ready to leave.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" You heard your father call after you as you left the house, but his threat didn't phase you in the least. If anything, never having to return to that house sounded like bliss right then.

Wrapping your jacket tight around your body to fight the cool evening wind, you sighed. "I'm sorry about that," you told Keishin as he walked silently beside you. "I should never have dragged you into my mess. You don't deserve to be treated the way my parents treated you."

"You don't need to apologize." He wrapped his arm around you once more and held you close, both to comfort you and to keep you warm. "I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?"

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes and frantically wiped them away. "I . . . I don't know," you answered truthfully. "I suppose I should just worry about one thing at a time, and since I've apparently got nowhere to spend the night now . . ."

"You'll spend the night at my place," Keishin stated plainly, not even bothering to ask if you wanted to or not. It was more like an order, but right then, you had nothing against him making decisions for you. As long as the choices weren't made by your parents, you didn't care who they came from.

"Okay," you exhaled. "Thank you."

As the two of you walked through the quiet night in the direction of the store, Keishin pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Without thinking, you wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned into him, the warmth he radiated bringing you some semblance of peace.

"I'm sorry tonight went so shit," Keishin spoke as he exhaled, smoke spilling from his lips.

"It's not your fault," you told him. "In fact . . . I don't think tonight could have gone any better. In the end, this is how it was always going to turn out. It's better I realize that sooner rather than later."

Keishin stopped and looked down at you. "That's not-"

"It's okay," you said those two magic words this time. "You remember when you told me that no matter what happened they would always love me because I'm their daughter?"

Keishin nodded.

"I wish you could have been right."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#lostinthewiind #piss off your parents #part 5 #ukai keishin x reader #coach ukai #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #series #ukai #keishin #ukai x reader

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heresathreebee · 3 years

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Wearing THAT

[Dewey Finn X Female Reader]

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You have a really hard time saying exactly what you want... Masterlist Next

Word count: 3.1k words (no beta)

Warning(s): 17+ | teasing, lots of teasing and boners, lap sitting, near nudity, touching

AN: only Thots here, thots about Dewey Finn also is Ned British? He's British in my head

This was some sort of test. It had to be. God was testing him through you and you were not playing fair. It’s a costume party not a competition, you pompous little sycophant. And yet he can’t help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It’s not even anywhere near his throat but why else would he feel so constricted? It’s certainly not because of you…

You walked into his shared apartment wearing that and you had no idea the effect it had on him.

Dewey watches you sling an arm around Ned and kiss Patty’s cheek in greeting. “Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been dying to put this on.”

“Oh you look lovely,” Patty coos. She plucks at one of the plastic leaves on your corset. “Did you make this?! It’s so intricate.”

You bark out a laugh. “Oh hell no! I have this cousin, right? And him and his fiancé own this shop where they make costumes for movies and theatre and if you pay ‘em right, ‘personal use.’ And they don’t ask questions what ain’t their business either.”

“Well, I’m sold.” Ned raises his beer for a toast and Patty clinks it with her bottle of mysterious green juice. “Prost! What’s the name of the shop? Wanna see if they’re online– you know, for... support.”

“Ned,” Patty swatted his empty hand (no need to be shy, we already know they’re freaky).

You pat your friends on their backs and take a step towards the kitchen. “Gonna get myself a beer.”

“Oh honey you don’t have to do that. Dewey!” The man in question nearly covered himself in his own drink when he heard his name. “Be a good host and get this lady her beer!”

“Yes captain,” Dewey salutes and Patty can do nothing but glare in her Star Trek yellow shirt costume. Original series, of course, nothing but the best for Patricia Di Marco.

Dewey takes a hold of the moment he has his back to you to take deep, calming breaths. He will not let this be the end of him. Your friendship means so much more to him than that and a little fancy green corset was not going to make him fuck things up with you.

He’s ready for you when he hands you your beer. Your one arm hug is appreciated because he’s sporting a bit of wood and he’d hate to find out your corset isn’t thick enough to hide it– or god forbid you feel him on your thigh. And god, your thighs… those sheer green nylon tights were doing unspeakable things to him. Maybe if he kept you close and kept your legs out of his peripherals he could make it through the night without embarrassing himself.

Or maybe not.

“Are yoooouuu a college student?,” you ask and point at his inconspicuous clothes.

“Actually– ” he opens the buttons of his shirt to reveal another shirt with a superman logo on it and buttons it back up clumsily as you laugh. “Ssshhh! Don’t tell anybody. Protect my secret.”

“Of course,” you giggle. God you feel good hanging off him– usually he loves how physical you are but he has to figure out a way to keep his distance without offending you and quickly. “You like mine?”

The way you pick up a thick swirling red lock and direct his attention to the very thing he’s trying not to look at is killing him. Of course you look even better up close. The leaves of your corset give the thing depth and texture, your gloves are fingerless and go over your elbows, and your heels are high, like make- him- feel- his- below- average- height high.

“I like these.” Dewey plucks at the ring of leaves at the top of your gloves. It’s a way to keep his mind off your everything else. “Did you dye your hair?”

“It’s a wig.” You tug on the top and then the bottom, wincing a little. “Sew in, so don’t go snatch it.”

“I would never!”

“Poison Ivy, eh? Think that’s one of Dewey’s favorites,” Ned blabs.

Dewey sends him a death glare so powerful Ned chokes on his beer but you’re looking at your Spock-dressed friend so you can’t see it.

“Oh, really?” You return your gaze to Dewey and say, “well you must be loving this, then.”

Dewey swallows. No words come to him and there is nothing to stop the awkward silence that follows. You appear unbothered by it, maintaining eye contact as you smile almost knowingly…

“We should play twister,” he says with the most unsure voice ever.

“We don’t even have twister,” Patty mumbled. “Come on, there are like twenty other games setup, let’s play!”

Dewey gives it a minute and when he’s free from you, he catches Ned by his pointy green ear and drags him into the hall. “Hey? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Whah– what are you talking about?” Ned slaps at the hand fisted in his shirt but Dewey doesn’t budge.

“You can’t just go telling people I’m into them, dude! Do you know how close you came to giving me away?!”

Ned scoffed. “Her? I hardly think she’s ignorant to your feelings, you’re not like that Steven from Austin fellow.”

“– Are you talking about stone cold Steve Austin?"Dewey buries his face in his hands- "It’s his last name, not his birthplace–”

“And besides…” Ned peeks around the corner to see you in the middle of some sort of posing game. Everybody's trying to take the form of some sort of vehicle, and you've got Chloe in a headlock and Vance's leg in the other hand. Ned never got to finish his thought because someone dropped a huge bowl of popcorn and that too became a game of ‘how many can you eat off the floor before Patty cleans it up.’ Ned’s got to help and he’s got to help now.

Dewey finds himself on the couch with his fifth beer of the evening. Vance, Jeremiah, and Chloe are talking baseball stats when suddenly Dewey’s vision is filled with green and red just before you sit down. Right between his legs. He unconsciously scoots up to make room for you and before he catches on to your game, you nestle into his space by the arm of the couch and sling your legs across his like you belong there.

Ok, something is definitely up with you.

Would he describe you as cuddly? A little. Perhaps a more appropriate word would be… hands on. Long before he started wanting more than friendship with you, you two were always just touching. Your presence and your love language was physical. Dewey never felt like you were invading his personal space or overstepping his boundaries because he simply had none with you and the feeling was mutual. But this was something else. Something that wasn’t there before.

Was it him? Was he fucking up his perfectly in sync companionship with you because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or (his heart for that matter)? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you closer or push you flat on your ass right now.

You were listening to Chloe chew Vance out for hating Gritty the mascot when you felt Dewey plant a hand on your forehead. “Hey, are you feeling ok?”

You gently shake him off and raise a single eyebrow. He seems serious, his voice gone all soft and making you feel gooey inside.

“You just seem… I dunno,” he fumbles, “do you want me to take you home after this?”

Hellooooo opening! “Actually, can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fuck, who said that? Dewey? Ah, shit…

“Thanks,” oh oh you should not be rubbing his thigh right now… “I think I’ll go change here in a minute.”

Oh please do, please please puh-leeaaase–

After a brilliant movie drinking game (which Dewey tapped out of), the crowd began to disband. 24 became 20, then 18, then 12. You went out to your car to grab your overnight stuff and Dewey was hoping for a brief reprieve from the assault of your visage. He just needed a few more people to leave so he can sequester himself and rub one out– you know, get his head straight. Ever since you left his lap he’s been rock hard, there’s not enough blood flowing to his brain. The guest count is down to 3– 2 with you in your car, and he can’t wait anymore.

Dewey slipped into the only bathroom in the house and prayed to god nobody noticed him. He barely got his hand wrapped around his shaft when Patty’s fist banged on the door demanding he help clean up. Sulking and agitated, Dewey managed to calm down while cleaning up red solo cups, glass beer bottles, cans, and small pocket sized objects that would need to be returned to the guests after their hangovers subsided (no keys, thankfully, everybody’s got a DD). His “predicament’ is nearly forgotten when you finally return with a bundle of clothes, disappear into the bathroom and reemerge in loose sleepwear with your makeup wiped clean and uh… braless.

You catch him looking. Dewey– surprisingly sober after he gave up drinking half way through his sixth beer– does nothing short of raise a slightly irritated eyebrow at you. “Cold in here, huh?”

“Shut up. You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep in a bra?”

You help him collect a couple bottles that rolled under the couch and walk with him down to Ned’s car. Patty would sort the recyclables from the trash in the morning (late morning, she did a couple rounds of tequila shots thanks to you). It’s almost like the party never happened; you’re shooting the shit again and everything is right in the world. He’s got no ulterior reaction to putting a hand on your hip– that’s just a normal thing in your perfectly platonic relationship. God, he really must have been imagining things, he was beginning to think you were actually trying to flirt with him!

Ned’s bent over the kitchen sink with Patty and holding her hair back. He looks up as you enter the apartment and shakes his head. You and Dewey make yourself scarce by slipping into the shared bathroom to hide. You try to giggle quietly as Dewey surveys the skincare products you covered the counter with. He points to your head and asks, “you wearing that to bed?”

“It’s sewed in, I’m not taking this off for three weeks at least,” you answer. “Get my money’s worth. I can work it like my natural hair.”

Dewey nods. You rub your arm nervously and look for something to say, something to circle back to the whole point of showing up looking like a sexed up goddess. What do guys like? Girls wearing their clothes, right? But you need to phrase it perfectly…

“Dewey?” He looks up from the scrubby lip balm in his hands. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet and it… it is a little chilly in your place. Can I wear your jacket?”

Just to bring your meaning home, you tug on his sleeve– the very jacket on his back. You don’t want just any jacket, you want that one, already warm and scented by him. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance past you like he was reluctant to comply. And yet…

“Yeah, here.” He slips out of it with ease and drapes it over your shoulders. You miss the sigh of relief he makes when you pull the zipper closed and obscure your pebbling nipples. “Think I’m gonna go help Ned put Patty to bed.”

Ned was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t carry her by himself, and she needed to be carried. Competitive by nature, it’s easy to talk her into virtually anything, especially if it feels like girl time. You need Patty in a deep sleep for your plans tonight (sorry not sorry). Dewey’s very sexy as he bears most of Patty’s weight. She’s clinging to Ned, arms around his neck and babbling incoherently while Dewey’s got an arm around her waist and legs, keeping Ned on his feet. You skirt ahead of them and open the bedroom door, help pull her shoes off, her captain insignia, her earrings, you even wipe the spit from her lips and the eyeliner smeared on her cheek.

“You’re my favorite ever,” she whimpers, “I love you so much, you’re like my best friend ever…”

You shush her gently. “You say that about everybody when you’re drunk, baby. I promise I’ll make you a fat breakfast in the morning but you gotta go to sleep now, OK?”

Patty nods. She snuggles into her pillow just as Ned is taking up position as the big spoon when she looks back up at you and asks, “can we go for a run together?”

You blink evenly. “Yes.” You already regret it as she smiles big and wide. It would be just your luck this is the one thing she doesn't forget in the morning.

Finally it's just you and Dewey in the hallway. It feels like you're standing between two choices: his open bedroom door and the living room. But it seems like only you can feel the weight of it.

"Are you sure you want to stay over?," Dewey asks, "you can use my bed."

You perk up out of your heavy mood. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll take the couch tonight."

He can't possibly miss the way you instantly deflate but he's still not putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Dewey. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll grab a few blankets."

There's a storage closet in the main building with this one extra soft blanket that Dewey knows you'll love. You on the other hand have got no more patience left. Once the man leaves, you stomp your foot and decide to try one final act.

Dewey returns to the apartment to find an empty, quiet living room. Ned and Patty are in bed, but where are you? He wanders past the bathroom door because it's dark inside and checks his room. There you are reclining on his bed. He could have sworn you were wearing pants before but your legs are bare and his jacket hugs the tops of your thighs. He also could have sworn you were wearing a shirt. He finds both items folded neatly beside you with your underwear right on top.

Oh…

This cannot be happening right now. He just survived tonight by the skin of his teeth and now you were doing this to him. He’s going to pull his hair out, going to scream, it’s so frustrating because he can’t just ask you what you want– you’ll turn the question back on him and he’ll fuck it up. He lets the blanket fall from his grip and with a heavy sigh he whispers in a weak voice, “straight answers only. What are you doing to me? Why you doin’ this?”

You cock your head and answer leisurely, your eye drifting across the items in his room. “You know that’s not how I roll, but if you want me to address the elephant in the room: I'm naked in your bed right now."

Against his better judgement, Dewey moves closer. "I can see that."

One step closer and your eyes find him again. Like an invitation you lean back more, even uncross your legs but go no further. Dewey swallows his tongue and waits for you to elaborate and every second is agonizingly slow.

"You think you can just walk around here with your pretty face and cocky little attitude like it’s nothing,” you said accusingly.

Dewey glared at you. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Well we're in agreement then,” you’re almost sneering at him, but he knows it’s because you’re really frustrated with yourself, “I look and I touch and I feel but I don’t know, you know?”

“Not a clue,” he sighs and sits himself beside you. He’s done trying to keep his distance. “Let’s go back to you being naked in my bed.”

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?,” he repeats incredulously. Dewey leans back on his elbow to look you over from top to bottom. You look damn good in nothing but his jacket. You’ve got the long ends of your red hair in braids that sweep down to your navel. The zipper rests tantalizingly right below your ribcage. Dewey dares to reach out a mollifying hand and give a tiny stroke to that silver keeper. He cannot bring himself to speak above a whisper as he nods, “yeah, I… I like it.”

The tension leaves your shoulders and you wear a small grin. “It’s not too late to take it back. Say no, and I’ll put my clothes back on and sleep on the couch like none of this ever happened. This,” you point between the two of you, “doesn’t change unless we want it to.”

… this was real. In answer, Dewey’s chin wrinkles and he watches his finger travel upwards, drawing a light line up the expanse of your chest between your breasts to feel you shiver at his touch. Thing is he doesn’t want to say no, but wouldn’t it be better? Safer? He asks the question he’s been dying to know all night. “What do you want from me?”

“Whatever I can get,” you answer truthfully. “Whatever you’ll allow. Don’t trouble yourself with labels and things ‘cause what we have has always been so much more than that.”

Dewey feels a weight lift off of his chest. His hand works around your waist and drags you closer, halfway under him and he rests his perspiring forehead on your breastbone. Whatever happens next happens, for better or for worse.

You’re not troubled when Dewey moves the jacket to expose one of your breasts, however you are taken aback when he bites you. You barely manage to stifle your yelp when you feel him growl against your flesh and the sound vibrates straight to your core. Dewey drags his head up and stares you dead in the eye as he kneads your savaged breast.

“All night,” he growls, “all fucking night for this? We could have done this ages ago. The salon, the drive in, Chloe’s cat’s birthday– grocery shopping last week. But no, instead you pick a party full of people and you’ve had me riled up for hours.”

Dewey pinches your hardened peak and you keen. “‘m sorry…”

“No you’re not, but don’t worry: you will be.”

AN: Check Out Part 2 @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape @softbeej @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

#Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn x reader #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#black reader insert #🖤❤💛#dewey finn x female reader

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Inkubus x Vampire!Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Always There

Notes:

I think outta all Englund's characters on this blog, I like writing for Inkubus the most. Which is criminal seeing as I write for him the least. I need to change that haha.

Plot: You meet up with a very old friend of yours and you spend some time catching up. And he's so clearly in love with you, its unbelievable and torturous to him that no matter what he does, you don't notice.

Warnings: A very unreliable narrator (In terms of particular other peoples clear feelings for her), BLOOD, DRINKING BLOOD, DRAINING SOMEONE OF BLOOD (But in a sort of polite way? Hah), MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE EX PARTNER, vampires and incubus'.

The smell of iron and petrichor fills your nostrils, disgusting and refreshing and also, just... relieving... in equal measure filling you up as you kneel by the victim - the man you'd chosen, - for tonight; A needle and tube attached to a blood bag between your fingers and digging into the poor mans neck.

You hate doing this, knowing this guy will be weak and sick feeling for the next day - maybe two depending on how much you take from him, - without understanding why. But, its for sure better then the alternative- which is just digging in right here and now with your teeth. That's messy, and the marks you leave behind aren't easy to explain away as 'animal attacks' anymore.

You need the blood, but you aren't a savage, jeez. You always catch any new vampire movies or shows together with your daughter and watch those actors with blood all over their chins, and think... How old are these vamps supposed to be?? 300 hundred years old!?

And they don't know how to eat without getting it all over their face?

Pfft! Rolling your eyes, you gently shake your head at the memories of bloody Edward Cullen and Lestat and Damon Salvetore swimming around in your head as watch the man's breathing. To be fair, you love them all - Twilight, Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Diaries, Nosferatu, Vampires Vs the Bronx, etc, - but that's just because its more fiction then truth- and that's coming from an honest to goodness bloodsucker.

Finally deciding you've taken enough without truly hurting the man, you put pressure on his neck and pull out the needle, carefully wipe away any mess with a cotton ball from your bag and put a band aid on him.

"Now," You talk firmly, softly, as you look into his eyes - which are dull, almost sleeping. A nice touch to the docile state you put your victims, in so they can at least not feel any pain or fear while you're collecting your feed, - , hands on his shoulders. "You're not going to remember this, or me. You're going to get a taxi home," You tuck some money in his shirt pocket, a thank you for his service; Its the least you could do. "Then get into bed and have a wonderful sleep with lots of lovely dreams. Thank you so much."

After you watch the man get up, still in a bit of daze but shaking it off - and not even noticing your presence, crouched down by where he's standing, - and leave the alleyway, you carefully pack away the blood bag and the tube and needle (In a separate plastic bag, for you to clean and sanitise when you get home) in your satchel and finally get back up, wrapping the strap over your head and resting it on your shoulder.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you turn to leave the alleyway and go home- when a familiar voice speaks up from the very back of the alley- and immediately your hopes rise.

"You look even more beautiful every time I see you."

You smile, peering into the darkness. "Oh, that's very sweet... but you and I both know I look like trash. I haven't eaten for a week!" When he just chuckles back, you tilt your head and waive him over. "Come out here so I can see you!; When did you get into town?"

Gracefully - more so then even you can manage, being a goddamn vampire, - Inkubus slips out of the darkness and you're happy to see he looks well. Its been forever since you say him last - 40 years? 70? - and you always have it in the back of your head for some reason that next time you see your friend, it'll be the last time. So its always lovely when he turns up and looks just as healthy as he always does.

"Oh I just got here; Thought I would come see you immediately. Otherwise you might nag at me." This time you chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes flicker to your satchel. "Collecting our dinner our we?"

"Yep! Smells like A Negative, my favourite. When was the last time you ate?"

"Ohh, a couple weeks ago. I'm due for my next fill soon, though... any suggestions?"

"No," Scrunch up your nose, you put a lot of emphasis on your response; See, you don't subscribe to the notion that monsters like the two of you have to act all blasé and cocky about the terrible things they must do. Apart from these night time trips to find breathers to bleed, you live a... mostly... normal life! So no- you definitely don't know anyone he can make his next victim.

And Inkubus knows this, which is why he laughs and you roll your eyes again at him, fixing the satchel on your shoulder. "So- " Again his eyes flicker to your bag, this time with meaning. A cheeky grin flits across his lips. "Want to get a drink?"

Smiling, you turn on your heel, you loop your arm through his and lead the way. "So have you been?"

___TIME SKIP___

4 hours later and the two of you are still stewing at a 24-Hour-Diner you frequent - seeing as you don't really sleep that much, - and are onto your 9th drinks at this point. You two may not see each other too often since the 1400's and went your separate ways in the world, but you never go longer then a hundred years - preferably 80 maximum, - without seeing each other and when you do- you have a lot to say. Filling each other in on what you've missed in each others lives is always a... disorientating experience, at times, but you must do it. You couldn't survive in a world where you didn't know what was happening in your best friends life. That would just be too lonely.

See, Inkubus is the only one you know - still, to this day, - who knew you when you were human, aside from the man referred to very nearly exclusively as 'Dick for brains' - being your daughters father, - and while having human friends who can make you feel normal again, is wonderful... so is feeling normal, in what you actually are currently. And that's not human. That's thousands and thousands of years old and a mystery to scientists. And, seeing as he's a literal demon... that's a very easy service for him to provide.

A waitress walks by to pick up you empty glasses and looks oddly at your personal tumbler. You clearly weren't meant to notice, but you do of course, and unassumingly shrug. "Bloody Mary... don't tell." You give her a conspiratorial wink, and she chuckles, walking off.

When you look back to Inkubus, he looks ready to make a joke so you give him a timid shrug. "Well, there is vodka and Tobasco sauce in it!... " He smirks, but lets it go- seeing as your words were funny enough.

"And how is Bethany? Has she seen her father lately...?" Your eyebrows arch, hearing Inkubus ask about him; Dick for Brains, Beth's father and the bane of your long, long existence. Obviously, seeing as the bastard impregnated you with his literal spawn of hell causing you to die during childbirth at age 26 so he could then turn you into a vampire, made you raise your daughter alone- and then returned 20 years later just to turn Beth into a vampire as well and claim that you can all be a 'proper family now'... you aren't a huge fan of the guy. And talking about him you don't do often, as it causes a horrible clenching feeling in your stomach and heart. Luckily, Inkubus is one of the few people who is allowed to make you feel that way. Him, and Beth.

You sigh, taking a slow sip of your drink through the matching metal straw and metal tumbler set Beth got your last mothers day (So as to hide the fact that its blood inside), you wonder what to say... "Beth's great, as always... she's fallen in love with a human, though. That can only end brilliantly." Shaking your head, you look to Inkubus to see his reaction and catch him rolling his eyes, smirking. Yep. "Um, and... yes. There has been contact with Dick for Brains... He recently, like... 20 years ago? turned up at her place in Egypt, and wouldn't leave till I had to fly down there and shoo him away." You grit your teeth. There is so much wrong with that man- you do honestly with you had never met him sometimes. That's horrible, you know, as if you hadn't met him you wouldn't have had Beth and she's the light of your life, but... at times like that instance? When he troubles her?

Its hard to not wish his existence away.

"Do you want me to speak with him?... Again... ?" Your gaze returns to Inkubus again, feeling at ease the moment your minds back in the diner with him and not in your head with Dick for Brains; Eyes softening. The idea is tempting, unbelievably tempting... And it would keep your friend around awhile longer. "That always seems to win you a couple hundred years of reprieve."

Taking a deep, needless breath - an anxious habit, - you set down your tumbler and shake your head. "No, that's okay... thank you for the offer, though. He seems to be giving up, slowly, finally. But damn, its taken him long enough to get the hint, huh?"

"Far too long." Inkubus' voice is bitter and dark, talking about your ex- and his eyes are reading much different. You know if you let him, he would kill Derek... but you cant do that. If anyone's going to kill him, it would be you or Beth, and neither of you are there yet. Inkubus takes a deep breath, relaxing again like a chameleon changing its colours. "Anyway, love; Onto prettier business. How did that thing go, that you had with that Djinn half a century ago. You seemed quite optimistic about that one."

A fluttering of laughter immediately comes out of you and Inkubus' truly cheers up at the sight of it, and you just look at him and shake your head; An awkward toothless smile on your lips. Ha! No.

His brows arch, laughter in his eyes. "Didn't end well?"

"That ended up being the shortest affair I've ever had and that's saying something." Brushing hair back from your face, you chew on your bottom lip. "You'd think after nearly 10 centuries, I'd learn... Oh- wait- make that 10 and nearly a half, centuries... Boy, am I clueless."

"Clueless about what, love?" You're just breathing in to respond, when a cheeky look crosses Inkubus' familiar face. "I mean, you are quiet clueless- about plenty of things. But specifically, this time."

You scrunch up your nose at him in response, grinning, before once again chewing on your bottom lip. "... I'm just not the woman that gets proposed to." You shrug, as if its no big deal; Even though your heart bleeds saying it out loud for the first time, to someone that matters and not just your ex-therapist, Julie. Setting your drink on the table in front of you, you idlily twist it. "Obsessed over and stalked, yes." You grin, a tinge of sadness to it. "Fucked, yes. Dated even, yes. But married?... Ha, no... "

His eyebrows climb up his forehead even more, before he softly smiles and pats your hand. "I asked you to marry me, all those years ago, sweetheart. Remember?" He reminds you gently, and you cant help giving a soft smile back at your well-meaning friend.

"Oh, yes of course I do. That was very sweet, but... I mean for love, you know? Not because I'm pregnant and alone."

Inkubus sighs, slightly frustrated, and leans back in his seat. "Mhmmm... " Rubbing a finger under his nose, he quickly clears his throat. Then he reaches his hand further up your arm to lay it on your forearm, running his thumb comfortingly across your skin. "Love, I'm sure that you'll find someone. Perhaps multiple someone's. Or, maybe, you don't need to find anyone new."

A little smile twitches at your lips as you pick up his hands and hold it on the table in both of yours. "... Maybe." For a split millisecond, your friend smiles. Sighing wistfully, you shrug. "Maybe I can learn to be happy alone. I mean, I like my life. I like my daughter, I like my job, I like my patterns... Maybe I don't need a man." Immediately his smile disappears and he rolls his eyes.

"You definitely don't need a man." He sighs, frowning. "But one can be good for a few things, no?"

"Hey." You set him with a stern look. "I thought we were making me feel better, about not having one?"

"Oh, you're right. I rescind my comment."

"You better." A cheeky grin crosses your face.

He looks back at it, the cheeky grin of yours, and the smile returns to his face.

The sun is warming up when you're on your way home, Inkubus beside you with his arms folded carefully behind his his back and your hands stuffed in your leather jacket pockets; One arm linked affectionately through his. You're an odd sight, you're sure, to any early morning commuters. You, and your barely-out-of-college looking self walking so close - and so domestically. A fact that is lost on you but not on the smug demon walking beside you, - to a man that currently looks to be in his 60's-70's age-wise.

Not that either of you care.

"Well, this is my place! Whatdaya think?" You ask, letting him go in order to unlock the door or the townhouse apartment and push open the door. He walks on in past you, looking around and you watch a soft smile grace his handsome features. "You like it?"

"Much better then the hole in the wall you thought was a good idea to show me in Transylvania- took everything in me not to sweep you away somewhere safer... with fewer mould spores... " He turns to look at you over his shoulder, a mischievous smirk on his mouth as you scrunch up your nose at him, before smiling.

"Well then, Mr Judgmental... I guess you don't want to know, that I chose this wallpaper cuz of you."

That definitely catches his attention, more then anything else you've said. He turns around in a full 360, assessing the wallpaper before looking curiously at you. "You... you chose this wallpaper because of... me? How so?"

You shrug, still leaning back against the open front door- sunlight filtering through the doorway. "The colour is very you. Its got 'Inkubus' vibes. You know," Raising your brows at him, you smirk. "Eccentric, full of itself." At that cheeky remark, he says 'Ha ha', sarcastically. "And, I guess, I missed you. Sooo... yeah... wallpaper."

"Hm... " Looking really far too pleased about this, looking a lot more engrossed by the home then before- but mostly the wallpaper. "This place is looking better, suddenly... "

"Like I said- Full of itself." You roll your eyes, laughing. Then you push off the door, push it closed with your foot and then go to pass by Inkubus to hit the livingroom. "Oh! The book! The one we were talking about at the diner- I'll find it for you! Come on- "

"Y/N." A hand curls gently around your arm, at the perfect moment so that you don't get yanked back with the force of your travelling and instead you just coat to a careful halt at Inkubus' side.

Blinking up at him curiously, wondering what he needed you for so suddenly, you tilt your head to the side. "Yes?"

For a good moment, he just looks at you whilst you become worried. What is happening? Every second that passes by, more and more ridiculous ideas cross your mind.

Finally, the man tilts his head slightly in sincerity.

"Sweetheart, are you ever going to see how ridiculously in love with you I am?"

And... for all of the disastrous and ridiculous possibilities that came to mind when he was saying nothing, you had a response. To this, you just stand their dumbly, your shoulders dropping and just looking at him in total shock. "... wel- uh- um... a few more hundred years?" You feel like a ton of bricks has just been dropped on top of you. "Maybe?" You squeak. You actually squeak.

And of course, you squeaked. You'd be surprised if you had managed to keep your composure after a confession like that. Here's this beautiful man, who against all foreseeable odds understands you, and cares about your kid, and whom you love... and somehow he's telling you that he loves you? That, for some reason, he wants you?

Is there something wrong with him?

There must be. Something terribly, horrible, irreversibly offensive that you aren't already aware of.

But you rack your brain and theirs nothing. Nothing, at all, that you can figure that would make you turn away from him right now.

He smiles a little bit at your awkward reaction, and lets go of your wrist in favour of tucking some hair back behind your ear. "Do you quite mind if I kiss you now?"

Your breath hitches, it actually hitches, like a tiny shy anime girl who's giant crush just got down on his knees in front of her for whatever reason, and you have to fight to pull yourself together; Rolling your shoulders back, hands on your hips. Totally, and translucently fake confident. "Um- you know? I don't?"

God, you are a centuries old vampire; Your vernacular should be yards better then this.

And then kisses you.

Oh god- And then he kisses you.

Because you're suddenly struck hard in the face with a million words and phrases, from current to boomer-speak to old fashioned to forgotten, to describe it but mostly you're just wondering why in the world you hadn't been doing this the whole damn time. Your hands find the sides of his coat in order to steady yourself, and pull him closer as you carefully tilt your head into the kiss. It comes so naturally, the kissing does. Between you and him. Its like, despite the bounds of your relationship never having reached this level before, you know exactly how to kiss each other. There's no awkwardness or searching. You just fit.

When finally, you slowly end the kiss, you fail to open your eyes for a good moment, before cracking them open slightly, half lidded and flickering up to his eyes.

And you take a deep, unnecessary breath and step away, torturously out of Inkubus' personal space. "... holy shit." You have so many questions... None of which touch on how exactly you're feeling because you get that much, at least.

But you cant help but wonder why- and for how long this has been brewing and how long exactly that you missed it- and how the hell this is going to work-

He follows you, thank god, a roguish yet soft look on his face. "Maybe we should take this to the livingroom, love. I promise, I can explain everything to you."

#Inkubus x Reader Oneshot #Inkubus x Reader #Fem Reader #Fem!Reader #Vampire Reader #Vampire!Reader #Inkubus x Vampire!Fem!Reader #Inkubus #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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I did write a lot of words of a self indugent fic because I’m having a serious breakdown over row and these two madly in love idiots. I’m sorry I haven’t really proof read it and I don’t know what this is, I wrote it in an impulse, but I’m gonna share it for whoever needs to ease the pain of waiting another two days for row. Sending you big hugs for all the breakdowns to come. As usual i need to thank the two halves of my heart @not-just-human and @claudiarya because they're my biggest inspiration and for all the meltdowns we share ily

burning flames and raging fires

“Damn it.”

Nikolai paced the room, relentless, frantically searching for something or someone to unleash his rage on. He fisted his hands, trying to stop the violent shakes of fury that were bolting through him.

“Damn it!”

His voice came out hoarse, in a low snarl that seemed to call his demon to the surface. He slammed his hands on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. They attacked Lazlayon. The truth of what had happened was still taking root in his mind. The Fjerdans attacked Lazlayon. They attacked us. His military base, supposedly the secret one. How for all the Saints were they able to do that? How many losses had there been? Who tipped them off? All appropriate, rational questions he should have been trying to find an answer to right now, instead of walking through every corner of the sitting room of Zoya’s chamber, caught by the sheer terror of not knowing how she was. He glanced at the closed doors, barely registering the swarm of people coming and going beside him, the whirl of red keftas worn by Healers. Every time someone came in, he felt the wrenching urge of running to her, sweep her in his arms and take her to safety. Except there was nobody to protect her from right now anymore, and he had already failed at keeping her out of harm’s way. And he could do nothing but wait, sulking in his own despair and anger, while strangers tended to her.

“Your Highness.” Tolya called him as soon as he stepped in the room. The giant was still covered in sweat and dust, one of his arms badly bloodied. If the blood were his own, Nikolai could not tell. He had rarely seen his guard shaken and out of breath. He forced himself to straighten up his spine and try to focus his mind on one thought.

“Tell me.”

“We got as many as we could out, and we sealed the tunnels. We should be safe. It was a targeted attack; they knew we were there.”

Tamar growled, frustrated, holding her axes so hard her knuckles went white. As many as we could. How many? And what horrified him the most, he could not bring himself to truly care. The only person he cared about had saved their lives and was sealed behind a door he could not cross. He never hated himself as much as now. As if he could read his look, Tolya avoided his gaze, turning to his sister.

“How is the general?”

“The injuries seemed bad, but – I don’t know. Genya is inside.” Tamar answered, her eyes running to Nikolai as she spoke. “She’s going to be fine, she’s tougher than all of us put together.”

Nikolai felt it was a reassurance she was giving to herself as much as everyone else in the room. He could hear nothing but the deafening thrumming of his own heart, the panic gripping his insides and blurring his mind, the air constantly catching in his lungs. Every breath was like a painful stab in his heart, the oxygen felt like fire. His brain was torn apart; one side of it was scrabbling for solutions, making up plans and possibilities, while the other stayed gripped on the sound of her voice. The attack was all a blur, his memory was struggling to grasp strands of it. He remembered the explosions, the screaming, the utter chaos they unleashed on the Gilded Bog. It was a succession of sounds and bright flashes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. There was only one vivid image he could hold on to: Zoya with her arms stretched out to the sky and her feet planted in the ground, standing between them and the enemy, silk black hair hovering around her. As she threw her fists open, a thunderous rumbling noise had shaken the ground, the sound similar to the one that preceded an earthquake. In one split second the waters had risen from the lake, growing in a monstrous tide, swirling with Juris’ blue fire and speeding towards their opponents. Then, everything had started crumbling down on them, shattered by the force of her powers. Zoya’s diversion had saved them, providing them the time to distract the Fjerdans and run through the tunnel that connected Lazlayon to the Grand Palace. The rest, he did not want to remember. He wanted to erase from his mind Zoya toppling to the ground after being struck by the Fjerdans bullets, with the entire world crashing around her, the faint groaning she let out as she held her in his arms. Most of all, he wanted to forget her silence, or how he felt empty and powerless when someone had taken her from his hold and shut the door in his face. He knew how much his general would have scolded him if she could see him now. Pull yourself together, King Wretch, she would have said. Remember who you are. Nikolai was the king, and the king could ill afford to sulk in his anxiety and worry with his country’s safety hanging on a thread. And still, he could not bring himself to care, he could not find the strength to walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Then you can spend the rest of the day telling me how much of an idiot I am. Please wake up and do it. He pulled the words out, tucking at the last strand of sanity he seemed to find.

“Tamar, I need you to double the security in the palace. And send scouts all over Os Alta to patrol the borders. We need to be prepared if they choose to push their attacks further.”

Tamar nodded, without leaving the grip on her weapons, her face strained. A rush of adrenaline washed over him, numbing the pain for a second.

“Tolya, no one followed us? Are we sure?”

“No one did. We blew up every entrance to the tunnels as soon as we got out.”

“Gather the other generals, tell them we’ll meet in the war room of the Grand Place to discuss how to proceed. Bring them up to the date on what happened, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Your Highness”, Tolya tried, gently, “it would be best if you – “.

Nikolai cut him short. “I’m not leaving here until Zoya is awake.” The twins exchanged a glance, without daring to contradict his firm and cold tone or dwell on the implications of what he had just said. He did not care about this either. He did not care about anything anymore; Ravka could burn to the ground as far as he was concerned right now. Eager Ravka, which was now trying to take from him the person he held most dear. Keeping up the façade had been already tiring enough the last few weeks, but this was utterly unbearable. The doors of her chambers slammed open, and they all snapped towards the sound. Genya took a couple of steps towards them, scrubbing her hands with a clean cloth. Her hair were damp in her face, her shoulders slumped, but she locked her eye on Nikolai’s ones with a reassuring gaze that flooded him with relief.

“She’s going to be fine.” She exhaled, closing her eye for a moment, and taking a long breath in. “Thank the Saints, it looked worse than it was. The injuries were not deep, nor vital.”

Genya explained, carefully marking every word. The reprieve sank in slowly, tearing through the curtains of desperation that plagued him. Nikolai released his breath. The whole air in the room seemed to shift, the tension flowing away. He heard Tolya faintly muttering a prayer under his breath, and for once, he understood him. As much as he had never liked the dragon, maybe Juris was the actual Saint they should thank now. Tamar let out a nervous chuckle. That was all he needed; he rushed toward her door but was stopped by Genya’s hand catching his arm in a firm hold.

“Your Highness – “She hissed, glancing at him from under her lashes and lowering her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Nikolai was taken aback by the fire glinting in her amber eye, red and swollen from tears and exhaustion. She loosened her grip; he felt her hand shaking slightly, a whole tremor running through her. Her look was vengeful, enraged – and tired. His own panic was mirrored in her, but she had been the one to clean Zoya’s wounds, to watch her as she had hoped to see her eyes flutter open. Zoya hardly spoke of her affections, so Nikolai tended to forget how close the two of them were and how fiercely they protected each other.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Eliciting a diplomatic incident on top of an armed attack is what I think you’re doing.”

He let out a disgruntled breath, searching the room with his eyes. It was still full of people, coming and going, occasionally sneaking a glance at him. Studying his reactions. He wanted to send them all to hell, to scream to clear the way and spend the night listening to Zoya’s breathing.

“I need to see her, Genya.”

“And have you stopped to think on what she needs?” Again, he was startled. Genya’s voice cracked, her amber eye filling with new tears of frustration. She yanked his arm free, brushing them away and composing herself. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I am not mad at you. But you are getting married in a week”, she inhaled, steadying her voice. “I can’t let you barge in there and have people witness you having a meltdown over your general. Zoya does not need this. She needs you to be the king and solve this situation, since she had already saved you once today. It’s your turn.”

Nikolai took the daring decision to ignore how truthful her words were and how they were filling him with shame. His own selfishness had a much tougher grip on him.

“I need to see that Zoya is safe. I can’t do my job if I don’t.”

“General Nazyalensky - ”, she corrected him, sending another threatening glare his way, “- is fine. I made sure of it personally.” Genya’s gaze softened, as she gently tugged him toward a more discreet corner. “Nikolai, you need to calm down. I told you it looked worse than it was. She is not even conscious right now; they have given her a sleeping tonic that is going to last for a while. You can trust me; she is safe and out of danger. Go be our king, please, and leave this to me.”

Nikolai fell silent for a moment, turning he matter over in his head and trying to bring himself to gather some composure. “I hate it when people are so reasonable”, he huffed, “I can’t even assert my authority when I’m being the irrational one.” A faint smile tugged Genya’s lips. He trusted her with Zoya’s safety and could see the clarity of her look under all the distress of the situation. If she had promised him Zoya was fine, there was no reason to doubt her. Reason. Something he was missing entirely right now. Genya spoke again, an edge to her voice.

“If I was Zoya I would have already tried to murder you or just slapped you into some sense, you know?”

“I do. Thank you for not slapping me.”

She shook her head, still trembling, and smoothed her kefta, returning to an affectionate tone. “Come back after the meeting. I will make sure everyone is gone by that time and I will wait for you. You can see her then.”

Nikolai nodded, feeling another gust of wind clearing the clouds from his mind, although he still did not much appreciate the idea of leaving. That had always been his life, pulled away by duty, failing to protect the people he held dear and then abandoning them to their fates. He slowly got back control, slipping inside his confident mask.

“Try not to be seen. You are still getting married in a week.”

Genya added. The warning was clear, on a lot of different levels. The despise he felt for his position, for the way he was conducting himself, for how coward he felt he was being, all those feelings towered over him, threatening to drown him. Nikolai shut his eyes, shoving the worry and self-deprecation aside for another time. He had the Fjerdans and his own desire for revenge to deal with now. Gesturing for Tolya to follow him they took the corridor to the palace. The king could not help but feel he had left his own heart behind and sensed a silent hollow in his chest.

***

It was well past midnight when the last of his soldiers left, and he was finally free to rush to the Little Palace. Being away from Zoya had felt like a limb was being teared away from him, the blood spilling from an open cut. His mind kept slipping to her, and he had spent the last hours trying to keep it leashed on the issues at hand. The terror never left him; he kept dreading for someone to walk through the room with dreadful news of her, kept staring at the doors waiting for this imaginary servant that never came. He would be forever grateful to Genya, who at the chime of every hour had sent him concise notes updating him on Zoya’s conditions. To be truthful, it had been the only thing that kept him sane. He felt a rush of anticipation and renewed worry as he pushed the handle of her room, the one that had previously been the Darkling’s property. Nikolai let himself be thankful for a brief moment for the Darkling’s gift for deception. He had built his rooms to be easily accessed from the palace in complete secrecy, to be protected by curious ears and prying eyes. That came in handy right now; however, he did not stop to think of how shameful this thought was, or how much he loathed having to snuck to her rooms like a hidden thief. To his relief, Tamar was on guard outside her chamber. Nikolai did not want to meet Genya’s severe and knowing gaze again, the one that seemed to peer right into his soul. Tamar got up when she sensed him arrive.

“Your Highness.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It is. Zoya is still sleeping, the tonic they gave her is strong. The Healers said she needs to rest as much as she can for the wounds to heal properly, but she should be back up on her feet in a couple of days.”

He acknowledged her words with a nod of his chin and headed inside, but Tamar stopped him clearing her throat. “Genya has asked me to tell you she’ll be back in the early morning to check on Zoya and tailor away what she can. She said it would be best for you to go back before dawn.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Tamar.”

He did not have the will to fight this now. They were all tremendously right, and he hated it. He knew he was being unfair; he should not be mad at them for trying to keep up the appearances when he clearly was ignoring how to do it. Guess the king had one true weakness after all.

He locked the door behind him, and every thought and worry he had disappeared when his eyes caught her figure. He had never seen Zoya look so frail, so human and defenceless. It tore every fibre of his being apart, snatching the hair out of his lungs. She was laying on her side, with her hair splashed and tangled around her bewitching face. Nikolai tried not to linger too much on her cuts and bruises, on the bandages that peaked over the clean shirt someone put on her. Each and every one he laid his eyes on sent a stabbing pain through him.

Why do you always have to play the hero?

He thought sourly as he came closer to her. He could almost hear her voice answering him.

Because you are my king, and I am the general. It is kind of my role.

The lamplight played on her skin with the glowing rays of the moon, making her look like a nightly creature who had emerged from a bedtime fairy-tale. Trying to be as delicate as he could, he placed a chair next to her bed and slumped in it, sighing heavily. He leaned towards her, brushing some hair away from her face, untangling them slowly with his fingers. He could imagine her getting mad at the Healers for neglecting to care for it, vain and petty as always. Even the thought of this made him smile and warmed him up. He kept his work for a little while, clearing the mess of her mane as best as he could without disturbing her too much. Zoya shifted in the covers but did not wake up. As Tamar warned him, the tonic was strong enough to keep her in her sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheeks and her lips before he pulled himself away, scorched by the improper touch he had let himself have.

Nikolai did not know how much time he spent just looking at her, taking the sight of a safe and placid Zoya. At some point, he straightened himself up, and was pulled out of his trance when his eyes caught a bandage on her arm where a bright red flower was blossoming through the linen. He was not sure if the Healer had not changed it, or the wound was opening again. He scanned the room, finding some clean strip of cloth and a bowl of cold water they left there. He took them and brought them back to his seat, pondering if and how to proceed. He could not stand the sight of blood on her; it was too gutting to take. Picking up his resolve, he rolled up his sleeves and gently tugged her arm towards him, starting to undo the previous bandage. When the last strip fell off, he dipped a clean cloth in the water and brushed the wound again until her skin was clear, feeling another rush of relief.

Every once in a while, Zoya stirred and let out a croaked breath, he saw her lashes flutter, or he felt a shiver ran through her. He stilled when she moved, terrified to wake her up and break the spell. Nikolai felt like he was stealing a precious and prohibited moment, a forbidden intimacy. Every touch of her skin felt sacred, felt like a prayer ushered in the quiet of night. He had never thought, never believed he could feel this kind of profound and pure love for someone. Even though he had long since accepted and acknowledged what he felt, it was still hard to grasp how deep it ran in his veins, how unforgiving the need of her was. It shattered everything else in its wake. It had begun like a small spark, nourished by stolen glances, gentle touches and truths whispered in the dark, fostered by forgotten secrets they had shared only to each other and simple moments that had withered away like the wind. And now the fire was blazing, the flames thriving and consuming whatever else there was. She had nestled herself in the deepest part of his heart where a storm was raging its fury. It was nothing like the tepid sentiment he had had for other people in the past. And he did not want to believe he was going to lose her, to turn his back on her. He would never be the same again, after loving her like this. After wanting her and longing for her like this. He would never, could never survive it, desire or have anyone that was not her. And for once, he just let this feeling flood, he just let himself relish in it and in the certainty that she was here, with him, by his side. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing could taint this. He wished she could hear him if he whispered in her ear.

I am in love with you.

He wished he could free his heart and let it hope. He wished she could believe him if he promised her.

Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.

Maybe she could not hear him, but he would promise anyway, against every odd and reality they were living. Whatever was bound to happen, he would hold on to this bond. Nikolai laid back her arm to rest on the bed and tucked her covers when he finished, getting up and pouring himself a glass of her favourite cordial he knew she kept hidden in one of her desk’s drawers. Another thing she would kill him for, to add to the long list of reasons he had already piled up in these years. The alcohol burned his throat but helped him ease his mind a bit more. Zoya was breathing evenly and quietly again, and he finally felt sure enough that she was past harm. The exhaustion he had hoarded and kept under control creeped up to him at this realization. Maybe he could let himself rest too. He eyed a small sofa from which he could still see her if he laid in it, that seemed like a good enough place to close his eyes for a while. It was placed on the side of her bed, near enough to her that he could feel her warmth, hear her movements if she needed him. He put the glass down on her nightstand, holding her hand up to him to leave a soft kiss on her knuckles and cupping her cheek briefly.

“Rest well, my ruthless Zoya.”

He muttered against her skin, hovering with his lips on her neck. He resisted the urge to lean closer to her mouth; he had stirred away from propriety far enough for one night. And do not ever leave me, even if I don’t deserve you, Nikolai added in his mind, as he leaned his head on the cushion and snuck a last glance at Zoya before his eyes dropped close and the familiar scent of wildflowers drifted him to sleep.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #grishaverse #fan fiction #my writing #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #when will you confess nikolai please #we cant wait anymore #i really dont know what this is just a self indulgent midnight writing #Grishaverse fic #king of scars #post kos

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Text

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 6: And I Don’t Blame You Dear for Running Like You Did

She finished the last of the dishes from breakfast, putting the plates away in the cabinet and turning toward the dog beside her feet on the floor. “What shall we do today?” The dogs barked, standing, and running in circles around her legs.

She looked around the cabin, books littering every surface. She grabbed one nearest to her, flipping through the pages to find them blank, empty, and begging to be filled. Looking around she found a pencil and blanket and gathered her items, opening the door and letting the dog outside. She followed him to the bench on the front porch.

There was water all around the cabin, some of it threatening to flow under the structure. Killian was standing on the side of the cabin, knee deep in the brown liquid, a shovel in his hands, his shirt tied to his side in a knot. She bit her lip as her eyes trailed his upper body, sun kissed from days he must have spent standing in the hot sun before the weather had turned cold.

She sat down on the bench, drawing her knees up to tuck her feet under her, wrapping the blanket around her as the dog curled up below her. She looked at the empty page and the pencil in her hand started to scratch at the white surface. She had no idea if she could draw, couldn’t remember ever trying, but the way the images took shape she thought maybe this was something she was good at in her other life. The one that was just out of reach of her memories.

She drew the forest, the water lying motionless in front of her, a dog splashing through the muddy sludge as a man stood, staring at the horizon. When she looked down at it minutes later, the shape of a swan in the distance was floating away from the cabin on the page before her. She sighed, looking up to watch Killian, now covered with beads of sweat, dripping deliciously down the crevice in his back, and she bit her lip. The man was the picture of sexy and mysterious. She wanted to know more about him, the story of how he got here, why he was alone. Yet she could tell that he was holding back from her, keeping pieces of himself hidden from her sight. What she wouldn’t give to tear back the layers and have him invite her in.

She turned the page of the book to start a new drawing but was surprised to see writing on the page, handwritten in a beautiful script. She should close the book, put it back where she found it and yet she found herself reading it.

Dearest Milah,

My love, I am in darkness without your light, I curse the sun for trying to replace the warmth that you no longer provide. I am in misery, these bars are not my affliction, my prison is of my own making. Even as I am released tomorrow, I will never escape the prison I created for myself. I have failed you. I failed Alice. There is blood on my hands, hate in my heart, revenge destroyed me. Destroyed our life. Our beautiful home. My perfect Alice. I am cursed. I fear that my heart will always be. I will never be at peace knowing the hell I brought upon my family. Your last moments knowing that I destroyed us. My life is forfeit, doomed to walk this earth with the knowledge that I am a monster. Undeserving of love. My fate is sealed. Hope is lost.

Killian

She ran her fingers across the lettering of his name, looking up at the man facing away from her, tearing at the soil beneath his feet. She needed to know more, yearned to understand how anyone could feel so tormented, so worthless. She ached for him.

Closing the book, she stood, watching from the corner of the house, observing his labor. She couldn’t exactly leave him this way. A few extra days to try and solve the mystery that was Killian Jones wouldn’t hurt her. Her life could wait if it meant helping the man who had so selflessly helped her.

She went back into the house, burying the book beneath a larger one, not wanting him to know that she had invaded his thoughts, his privacy. Looking around the cabin she decided she would do something nice for him. She began by picking up the items from the corner, dusting off the surfaces she could. She folded blankets, organized his books, placed the logs evenly beside the hearth and gathered the clothing to be washed in the bucket he kept by the back door.

When she had finished she looked around at the result of her work and smiled. Maybe she was married in her other life, she was pretty good at this house cleaning thing. She frowned, touching her ringless finger. Maybe she was just a maid in her other life. Was she hoping for that instead of having a husband who was lovingly looking for her? A man she had thus betrayed by her night with Killian.

The door opened abruptly, and Killian stepped into the tiny cabin. Tossing his boots into the corner by the door he turned and met her eyes. He seemed surprised to see her standing there, holding a broom, and sweeping the floors. It was so ridiculously domestic that she cursed herself for being found this way.

“I cleaned up.” She announced and his eyes roamed the room and to her surprise the corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She finished her task, setting the broom back behind the door and walking closer to him, reaching out to take the dirty shirt from his hands. “I was doing the wash.” She smiled shyly. He didn’t react, probably from the shock she imaged when she ran her fingers across his chest, dirt and grime slipping through her fingers. “You should do the same.” She added with a flirty grin. “Take a hot bath.” She turned away from him, her smile growing on her face, pleased with the reaction she elicited from him a moment before.

“Uh, yeah I’ll do that.” He stammered, walking toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Swan. For um, for tidying up. I’ve never had a guest before.”

She bowed her head. “Go bathe.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. “I’ll make some dinner.” He left the room, and she swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She had half a mind to follow him right into the bathroom and have her way with the man. But instead, she walked the few steps away to the kitchen to start the meal she promised she would make. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she thought. She had no idea why she knew that, but she was determined to find out if it was true.

~*~

Killian retreated from the room, trying to create as much distance as he could between him and the beautiful Swan who was currently domesticating his home. Seeing his place so neatly put together, the blonde woman putting such care and attention into something she had no investment in both confounded him and stirred emotions in him that he had buried, burned, destroyed years ago.

He shut the door to the bathroom, filling the buckets with water to put on the stove to heat but instead tossed the cool water into the tub, perhaps a hot bath was not what he needed right now unless he intended to do something completely stupid and reckless like ask the woman to join him.

He sunk down into the cold water, breathing slowly, erasing all the thoughts he had of how she had felt the night before. The taste of her skin, her intoxicating aroma as he plunged his tongue into her center.

Fuck.

Sinking below the water, he lay there, holding his breath, counting to ten before breaching the surface and gulping in air. He scraped at his skin, letting the soap cleanse the dirt and grime he had accumulated from his earlier work. The trench he had dug would allow the water to escape in a few days. The roads would be clear, and he would be able to drive back to town. This would be over, and he could return to his solitude.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering into the bedroom to dress and pull a comb through his hair. If he was going to play house, he should at least look presentable to the woman who was sharing his fairytale. He rolled his eyes at the mirror, admonishing himself for playing along with this fantasy. Could it really hurt him to have a few nights of pretend? None of it was real. They both knew that. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the devil, or yet another way to torture him. Either way, he would take it.

He stepped from the room quietly as she flitted around the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she worked. She was a marvel to observe, a beautiful treasure in every way. When she caught him staring, she blushed, quieted, and turned back to the stove.

“It was lovely, don’t stop on my account.”

“I don’t know where it came from, it just sort of formed in my head. I guess I must have heard it in my other life” She mused, humming the notes again to You are my Sunshine.

She seemed almost angelic, standing in his kitchen with the sun shining across her golden locks. Before he could stop himself he realized he was singing the words to her melody. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “Is that what I’m humming?”

“Aye.” She continued humming. “You’ll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” He finished softly, standing in front of her with her back against the counter. Neither one of them moved and he was afraid to take a breath for fear she would disappear right in front of him. He wasn’t ready for her to dissolve, to leave his life. He cursed even admitting it. He liked having her here.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“I used to sing that to Alice before she went to bed.” He said with a sad smile. “It was her favorite.”

He expected her to go back to her food preparations, to break the spell he was in, but instead she surprised him, reaching up to brush the wet hair from his forehead. A smile sweeter than any he could remember fell across her face as she stepped into his embrace, her lips grazing his jaw before touching his lips. It was over before it began, short yet sweet and full of emotion. He squeezed his lids tighter together to keep his emotions from spilling out. She stepped from his arms and his lids flittered open. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

No one had taken the kind of care she had. Cleaning his house, preparing a meal, comforting him. These were not things that were afforded to him. Yet here she was, a stranger, a woman who was within her rights to demand to be released and taken home immediately and yet she instead opted to care for him. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Because it would be gone before he had the ability to embrace it. Taken from him like everything else in his life.

“Smells good.” He announced suddenly, sitting down at the table.

“I wasn’t really sure what to make but you have such great vegetables.”

“Aye, I’m sure my garden is flooded now. But at least it’s watered.” He chuckled.

She sat the food in front of him and then made her own plate, taking the seat beside him. They ate in silence, but it was comfortable in the way she would smile at him between bites, or blush when he caught her eye.

After the food was consumed, they each took to the mundane task of cleaning up, side by side, working together. It required no forethought or communication, like they had been doing this their whole lives. “I don’t wish to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” He teased, an expression that must have come from a moment of weakness pushing through his hardened exterior. “The place hasn’t looked this bright and cheerful in…” He scrunched his nose, “well, ever, I suppose.” Ending with a laugh that started low in his belly, but he felt through to his toes.

“Then I have completed the task I set out for myself this morning.” She smiled.

“What task was that love?”

“Getting you to do that.” She chuckled before continuing her thought. “Trying to ease some of that burden you seem to carry.”

He swallowed. “I suppose I can bury some of it for a few rare moments.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you.” He added sincerely.

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

He exhaled, “Why do you assume I’m punishing myself?”

She shrugged, “You live alone, cut off from the world, as if you are condemning yourself to loneliness. I can’t imagine the man I know doing anything that would call for such isolation and sadness.”

“I have done many things in this life, Swan, most that I am not proud of. I am not a good man.”

“You saved me.” She whispered, her hands reaching for his. He wants to pull back, to keep the connection broken, but instead he allows her to take his hand.

“One good deed does not forgive a lifetime of bad behavior.” His voice cracked. He wished things were different, that she could stay here, maybe she would even heal his soul. But her life was not his to control. She belonged somewhere else; he was sure that her heart must even belong to another. Someone noble and deserving of her. A good man.

“It’s a start.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column in my book.” Her words warmed his heart, he rewarded her with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, love. That means a great deal more than you know.”

She stood and wandered toward the couch, lighting candles along the way. As she sat down she gestured for him to join her. “It should be a few more days and I should be able to drive into town.” He added as he sat next to her.

“Well, let’s make sure the roads are safe before you try, perhaps we should wait until things are completely dry.”

He turned toward her, a hopeful feeling rising in his heart, a few more precious days with her. “Aye, good idea. Better to be safe.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a moment he let himself get lost in the gesture. Imagining a new reality where this woman, his swan, stayed, and they would spend nights on the couch, lying together and talking about nothing.

“So, what do you do out here every day? Surely you must find something of interest to keep you busy.”

“Jolly and I do a lot of exploring, fishing over on the west banks, or hunting for game. I suppose when we aren’t doing that I read.”

“I noticed you had a lot of books.”

“Aye, my brother taught me how to read when I was very small. I suppose it become a passion of mine.”

“You have a brother.”

His chest rose and fell with the exhale he exerted. “I did, yes. Liam. He was a good man.”

“Was?”

“Aye. Gone.”

“Your parents?”

“Died when we were young.”

“So, you truly are alone.” She offered sadly.

“Well, I have Jolly.” The dogs head lifted off his lap as he lay next to him. He patted his head. “He provides good company.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back home?”

“No home to return to.”

“But you could move back to where you are from, start a new life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for me, love.”

“You could come with me.” His heart stilled.

“Love, whatever is waiting out there for you, I assure you, it is far more worthy of you than me. You don’t know anything else right now, that’s where all of this is coming from. You’re clinging to what you know because you can’t remember what you don’t.”

She sat up, staring at him. “Stop doing that. Stop discounting yourself like you are some demon, unworthy of compassion. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, I only see who you are now.”

“Swan, you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really was.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in frustration.

“Why not.”

“Because…I don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. I can’t bear to have one more person hate me because of what I’ve done. I just want you to see me as you do right now. Before you leave. Even if it’s only for a few days.” His honestly surprised him, almost scared him to admit his feelings out loud. He enjoyed that she stared at him with compassion, almost reverence. He wanted her to want him, to see him as the man he used to be, long ago. He couldn’t keep her, but perhaps he could have this feeling long after she was gone. Someone had seen him, the Killian Jones he remembered, the one that Milah trusted and loved. The man who would sing lullabies to his daughter and earned her devotion. If someone could still find that man in him, maybe it was enough to keep him sane long after she was gone.

“Take me to bed.” Her eyes were full of passion, desire, need. Killian rose from the couch, hoisting her into his arms. “Be my love, if only for a while.” She whispered against his neck and he found her mouth, taking her lips with his. Tonight, he would take her as his own, they would have these moments together, no matter how fleeting they would be.

As he buried himself inside of her, pouring every ounce of passion into his kiss, he thought only of her, his Swan. As she lay, curled into his side afterwards, her eyes staring into his with a warmth of devotion, he imagined a life that wasn’t his. A life where he made her happy, where he loved this woman with all his heart and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though it wasn’t real, he could almost believe it, almost feel it burrowing deep into his heart.

Hope.

#waterfall memories #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

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tiny-slasher · 4 years

Text

Billy Lenz x Reader | Coffee Shop AU

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“U already know who this is... Coffee shop au but there's a competing coffee shop that sells holiday themed drinks depending on the day of the week (B I L L Y L E N Z I D E M A N D H I M)” - anon

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Billy was pissed.

Stupid Coffee Shop with their stupid snowflakes- and who the hell painted that sorry excuse for a snowman on the front window?! It wasn't even December, and they already had decorations up and Holiday Specials advertised in big, bold lettering

Billy blew a stray strand of hair from his face, glaring out the window at the coffee shop across the street. Two years after they opened there, and he still couldn't believe they'd had the audacity to choose that location - maybe less that thirty feet away from the location of his shop. There he'd been, finally settled after years of therapy, content with the stability of his life, when they showed up.

Them and their hair...their clothes...their stupid face- stupid eyes-

They came and opened their shop, selling coffee a dollar cheaper than him and attracting half of his customers like moths to a flame. When Billy put up a sign advertising cookies, they advertised two-for-one deals. When he offered special holiday sales, they offered free cookies with any purchase on Tuesdays. When he advertised limited time coffee flavors, they advertised seasonal baked goods. Those with fewer tastebuds and lighter wallets began to switch to the other, lesser coffee shop within a couple of months, and Billy was left to suffer the consequences.

Granted, he still got good business, his coffee shop was unique, and obviously quite superior. Not only was he skilled in the art of coffee making, and served everything in ceramic cups unless otherwise specified, his shop was themed.

Each day was a different holiday, with different options for coffee. He had 'plain' options for those who just wanted a caffeine fix, but he had alternating holiday flavors for the more adventurous. And damn it, if someone wanted a Leprechaun Cappuccino on Thursday then too fucking bad! They’d have to show up on Monday like everyone else!

It had started off with just Christmas themed brews all year 'round, but he'd expanded after the first year. He hated having to explain the menu to new customers every single time they showed up, but he did enjoy messing around with different types of latte art. That is, if everyone stopped ordering the iced coffee...

Glancing back at his rival, he snarled.

Billy hated them. He hated their coffee shop, he hated their smile, he hated their dumb laugh-

He'd often see them through the window, putting a sign out front, or sweeping off the front step before they opened. They looked dumber and dumber each time he saw them. Sometimes they had the nerve to wave at him and yell out a greeting like they had no idea they were rivals, and Billy hated it. He wanted to get rid of them. He wanted to dump boiling coffee over their head. He wanted to rip out their intestines and-

Bad Billy! Bad for having bad thoughts again! Stupid, nasty Billy! Stupid-

Billy took in a long, deep breath, just like his therapist taught him to, focusing on the way his lungs filled with air and collapsed when he exhaled. He played with the hem of his sweater, worn from years of doing so, feeling the way the fibers ran across his fingertips. He sighed, wishing for just one day without intrusive thoughts, but knowing he'd never be granted that sort of reprieve. No, it wasn't something he'd ever be cured from...but it was something he was learning to manage better as the years went by.

He glanced around the shop, hoping none of the customers noticed his little episode. Thankfully, they all seemed absorbed in their activities and conversations.

Billy sighed, a bit relieved. He wiped off some glitter that had fallen onto the counter from the tinsel hanging above him, hoping none had gotten into his hair again, when the front door of the shop opened. Glancing up he saw a woman and a young boy walk in and make their way over to the counter. They were regulars, coming every single Tuesday for the Valentine's Day special.

"Welcome to ‘Fa-la-latte’, what can I get'cha?" Billy asked with a smile plastered on his face.

"I'd like a Sweetheart iced coffee," she gestured towards the boy. "And he just wants a strawberry muffin. To go, please."

Billy nodded and spun around to get to work, withholding the eye roll he nearly gave her. If he had one more customer order the iced coffee he was going to take it off the menu.

He didn't notice the bell on the door ring, too focused on his internal dialogue and making a damn good iced coffee (or, as good as iced coffee is going to get). Even if he had to make the same damn thing every Tuesday, he wasn't one to disappoint.

Shoving the lid of the coffee with one hand, he grabbed a muffin in the other, putting it in a bag and setting them both on the counter. The boy, like any child would, grabbed the muffin almost immediately, and Billy rang up the price on the cash register. While the woman pulled out her card, Billy saw the person behind them.

Billy's eye twitched and his pupils narrowed at the sight before him.

It was them.

The absolute nerve this person had was astonishing. They thought it'd be okay to just show up whenever they wanted? In his shop? The shop they were practically stealing money from by simply existing? With their little stupid, ugly smile, and their stupid-

"Thank you!" the woman's loud voice broke Billy out of his thoughts, taking her coffee and exiting the shop with the boy in tow.

Billy's knuckles were white as they walked up to him, a smile on their face. He saw through their facade. He wasn't falling for that sweet demeanor.

"Wow, they weren't kidding when they said you had a lot of options!" they said, eyes wide as they looked at the signs above Billy's head. "It must be exhausting having to have a different menu for each day!"

Billy's jaw began to hurt from clenching, eyes raking over their form as they rattled on about things he didn't care about.

"So, Tuesday is Valentine's Day, huh? What would you recommend for a newcomer?"

Billy blinked, "What?"

"I came to try it out myself! Everybody keeps raving about how good your stuff is, and I wanted firsthand experience!"

Oh. Oh this sneaky- They wanted to taste it so they could copy him! They wanted to steal his ideas and sell it for half price! He was so close to just leaning over the counter and grabbing them by the throat-

But, he couldn't just cause a scene in front of his loyal customers! This coffee shop was supposed to be their quiet space, where everyone could just relax and enjoy themselves. He wasn't about to ruin it for them, and risk losing business.

Gathering himself, Billy gave them a sickly sweet smile, "Well, everyone orders the Sweetheart Iced Coffee."

They shifted on their feet, "Is that what you would order?"

Oh they were good...

"No," Billy leaned on the counter. "I'd order the latte."

They glanced up to the sign, "Just a regular latte?"

"Yup."

Seemingly dumbfounded, they shrugged and said, "Alright. One medium latte, please!"

Sending them one last smile before he turned around, Billy scowled and got to work.

Who'd they fucking think they were? 'oNe MeDiUm LaTtE pLeAsE!' Like he was gonna make them one of his specialty drinks anyway! Still...if they were out for his recipe, they would've been more insistent to order a specialty drink, wouldn't they? He glanced back at them, watching the way they looked around the shop with an awed expression. Their acting skills were top notch, he'd give them that.

Billy shook his head, trying to stop himself from mumbling. A few phrases escaped his lips despite his efforts. He heard them laugh softly, and he nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to scream at them to get out. An image of stabbing them in the eyes with a candy cane abruptly took over his thoughts, and he couldn't help but muse over it with a satisfied hum. He'd watch as their blood warmed the candy in his hands, mixing into a sugary, sticky mess-

NO! Bad Billy! Bad, bad, BAD BILLY! Naughty, NASTY-

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the way the coffee machine hummed.

"You have her father's love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia's. Do you marry him?" Billy muttered in a low voice, steaming some milk with an iron grip. "Scornful, Lysander! True, he hath my love-"

"Are you quoting Shakespeare?"

Billy pointedly ignored them, trying not to break the handle on his coffee machine as he turned the steamer off while he murmured to himself, a bit softer than before, "And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate unto Demetrius."

He poured the milk into the coffee, swirling it into a neat, but not overly exotic heart. It was Valentine's Day themed, after all, and he wasn't about to get ridiculed for a sloppy job. Turning to set it down in front of them, he was briefly stunned to find they'd moved to sit over at the bar near him. His fingers twitched as he inhaled sharply, plastering a smile back on his face as he shakily set the cup down in front of them.

Their eyes scanned him for a long moment before falling to the latte in front of them, sending him a small smile and a thanks. Billy gave them a sickening "You're welcome" before turning to clean up, ignoring the pleased hum they gave after their first sip. He was mumbling to himself again while he washed out some used cups when they spoke.

"So, are you in a play?"

Billy paused for a moment, confused, "What?"

"Oh, you were just reciting lines, so I thought maybe you were trying to keep them memorized," they shrugged, and then lifted their cup of coffee. "This is really good, by the way!"

"Were you expecting it to be bad?" he bit out, a bit more harshly than intended.

"No, no! I'm just used to coffee that's not so great," they shrugged.

"If you wanted bad coffee, you should've ordered the Americano," Billy mumbled.

The laugh he earned stunned him, his thoughts pausing for a moment to take in the sight of their smile. Despite his suspicions, the twinkle in their eyes seemed genuine enough... It would be so easy to put that light out...make their eyes as dull as his own can be. Turn the whites into a scarlet-stained-

A cup shattered in Billy's grasp, slicing the silence like a knife through butter. A curse escaped his lips before he thought better of it, echoing throughout the room. Some of the customers looked in his direction. Billy wanted to apologize, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He lowered his head a bit, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair, and shakily gathered the broken ceramic from the sink. Thankfully, he hadn't cut himself.

You should have, stupid, stupid Billy! You deserve it! Bad Billy! Bad-

"Are you alright?"

Billy turned to them, eyes manic. He relished in the way they tried to hide their discomfort.

"I'm fine," he bit out.

Billy seized the opportunity for a bathroom break, escaping the hellscape that was his coffee shop. Standing in the middle of the small bathroom, he spent the next few minutes trying to even his breathing. In, and out. In, and out. The breathing technique left a lot to be desired, and didn't do much for his racing thoughts...but it was better than nothing. If anything, at least he could tell his therapist he'd put in the effort. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, unsurprised to see a murderous gaze looking back at him.

"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended," Billy muttered, hands gripping the sink. "That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. Heh! Dramatic."

Shaking himself off, Billy inhaled and exited the restroom.

They were still there, sipping their coffee and eyeing him as he walked back behind the counter. He sent them a smile, as though nothing had happened less than five minutes before. They blinked at him, confused, but Billy paid them no mind. Instead, he decided to make himself a latte. His hands were still quite shaky, and his heart had yet to really calm itself down. He fumbled with the steamer a bit, but managed to complete the drink with no mishaps.

"So...which holiday is your favorite?"

Billy stared at them as he sipped his latte.

"Mine is Halloween! I'm curious to know what the Death Brew tastes like," they smiled. "Is it bitter?"

Billy's eyes were glued to them as they patiently awaited his answer, and he took his time swallowing his coffee. They wanted to know what his brew tasted like, huh? They were definitely out to steal his recipe.

"It tastes like death," he replied. "Hints the name."

He jumped when they laughed out loud, apparently finding his sarcasm amusing. Billy hated the little butterfly that flew around in his tummy, and promptly squashed it with an eye roll and a huff.

Billy watched as they continued to look around at all the different decorations adorning the coffee shop, seemingly in admiration, but he couldn't be too sure. This person was crafty, and he had to be ready for anything. They were clearly looking for some way to ridicule him, or one-up him, and he would not allow it.

Still...the twinkle in their eyes...and the soft smile that settled on their lips...

"Christmas."

Their sparkling eyes turned back to Billy, "What?"

"My favorite holiday is Christmas," Billy said.

They smiled at him, "I should've known...there's a lot of tinsel hanging around in here."

Billy looked down at his latte, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. He hadn't felt this unsettled in a while, and it was a feeling he hadn't wished to relive.

"Your place is a lot calmer than mine," they said airily. "It's nice..."

Billy's eye twitched. He couldn't tell if that was a compliment, or a well-hidden insult. He just hummed in reply, trying not to appear as frazzled as he felt. However, he was sure the trembling in his hands was giving him away.

"Christmas is on Saturday, right?" they asked.

He nodded and they gave him a sweet smile.

"Well, I might have to come back in a few days, then," they replied, hopping off of the bar stool. "I'll see you around! Thanks for the coffee!"

Baffled, Billy watched them leave with his mouth hanging open. He stared until he saw them disappear behind the door of their own coffee shop.

Everything about that interaction had gone strangely, in his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was because it had been strange or if it was just him who found it odd. They'd seemed genuinely curious about everything, not with ill intentions in mind. However, they'd left so abruptly...almost like they did it on purpose.

They were probably scared of Billy. They probably heard him mumbling nasty things under his breath and ran away- T-they knew Billy is bad! They knew Billy has bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts! They- They...

They didn't fucking pay for their coffee.

Billy nearly saw red, glaring at the empty cup that sat on the counter. With shaking hands he grabbed it, doing his best not to toss it across the room in frustration. He froze, however, when he saw a small slip of paper flutter on the table where the cup had been sitting. Curiosity peaked, Billy set the cup in the sink and then picked the paper up between in fingers.

"Feel free to stop by my shop any time for a free coffee! We've got lattes ;)"

Billy didn't enjoy the way his face felt as it flushed, and he really didn't enjoy this new feeling of butterflies in his stomach. And yet, a grin split on his face, and a cackle escaped his lips, earning a few glances. He turned to see them staring at him through their own window. They grinned and waved at him, and he choked.

If they were so insistent on stealing his recipes, he'd just have to return the favor. He wanted to see what all those customers saw in their stupid coffee shop. They probably batted their stupid eyelashes at people, and smiled their stupid smile-

Their stupid, goofy smile... Made their eyes crinkle at the corners... He could think of many different ways they could use that mouth of theirs-

No! Bad, naughty Billy! Having naughty thoughts at work! Bad! Bad! BAD!

#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #slasher #slashers #coffee shop au

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xxtraord1nary · 3 years

Text

POV

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x f!mc (Charlotte West)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Constructive criticism is always welcome! No hate please and thank you for reading reblog and comment if you enjoyed.

Summary: A very naughty and heavily pregnant Charlotte much prefers her handsome lovers point of view.

Warnings: Strong Language, Fellatio, Sex, and a tad of dark humor. If that makes you uncomfortable please exit stage left because you’ve been warned. Overall vulgar.

Tag list: @katkart122 @missmiimiie @openheartfanfics

“Tobias, I am not playing with you get that damn camera out of my face! It's way too early for your shit.” Charlotte snapped whilst swatting at the pest she called a husband as he continued to record his very moody wife with his old camera he found a couple a months ago when Char ordered him with a broom in hand to go “clean that damn garage” or he could sleep on the couch for a month, so that being all the motivation he needed Tobias got to it with vigor.

“You're really good at this whole black mama thing Charlie.” he teases with a shit eating grin plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “Keep it up and I’ll be a single black mama if you don’t quit.” she grunted while taking down her plaited kinky tendrils that in the morning tended to have a mind of their own.

“Now why would you say that?”

“Because I’m going to kill you” she said whilst continuing to grumpily apply toothpaste to her electric toothbrush.

“Really talking like that when I’m recording, then the police will immediately know who to be held responsible in the case of my untimely demise, Charlie.” he further ribbed while shaking his head playfully behind the lens.

“Screw you and the police Carrick.” she spat.

“Babe, you know all you have to do is corporate and let me get my daily picture of you and our little Tiny Tia. So get with the program.” he chided with a small but genuine smile as he further gazed at the love of his life and their little one growing inside her very pregnant belly.

“Alright two things: that name is super cute and I’m surprised you came up with that yourself.”

“I’m good for something, see?” to which she answered with a ‘meh’ and shrug of her shoulders.

“I’m offended.” and again another answer in the form of shrugged shoulders and a hard roll of the eyes.

“Now for two, why on earth do you need a picture every day?” she whined with tired eyes.

“This is our first child out of many, I need to capture every moment. Now lift up your shirt!” he confidently proclaimed.

She didn’t want to burst his little bubble but if he thought for a second she was pushing another of his big headed babies out of her lady parts he was sorely mistaken. ‘What the hell is “out of many” anyways?’ she pondered with a perplexed expression. “Absolutely not, I look like a gross ragamuffin.”

He sighed, “Charlie lift up your shirt or I’m gonna hold out.” he asservated pleased with her shocked expression. “Oh yeah, hold out what exactly?” she challenged with raised eyebrows. He knew the denial of sex would be the thing to do it for her. Already she had an insatiable sexual appetite hence here they were here six months pregnant, but pregnancy hormones only amplified that. “You really don’t wanna play those games with me Tobias, or you’ll find yourself handcuffed to bed and taken by force.” she lightheartedly fired back. “I’m quite intrigued as long as I can return the favor.” he huskily dropped an octave and whispered to her. She shivered and scoffed “You a silly little freak.” with a laugh.

“Honestly Charlie, all this is unnecessary as all I wanted was my pictures and could have been going about my business by now but someone refused to get along with the picture. Pun heavily intended.” he sighed.

“Okay I’ll bite, but what are you even doing with these pictures?”

“Well, if you must know. I take your picture or video then I pleasure myself.” he sexily drawled “then upload it online to make a virtual scrapbook.” he happily finished. “Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled as she shoved his laughing form. “Wait, you still masturabte?” she inquisitively questioned.

“Well, yeah sometimes you're in a horrifying mood and I’d rather work with what I’ve got than you ripping my head off, do you?”

“Actually no, not since I met you at least.” she truthfully noted, as her hands just didn’t do the job since Dr. Tobias Carrick waltzed into her life with his devilishly handsome face and rocked her world.

“I’m doing my job right then.” he pressed with a smirk. “Mhm, too right if you ask me.” she quipped pointing to her very round and beautiful stomach adorned with barely visible glittery stretch marks that only magnified her beauty and strength. “What’s on your mind now?” he pried while she poked at her bump in the mirror. “Me and Sienna, Aurora, and Jackie are going out to Carson Beach and I can’t decide whether to wear a two or one piece.”

“Two pieces of course so I can enjoy the fruits of my labor.” he smiled proudly.

“Four minutes hardly constitutes at “labor” she mocked with air quotes. He smacked his teeth in annoyance, “If you loved me you’d do this for me.” he pleaded. And now it was her turn to kiss her teeth, “Fine!” she huffed. “But leave my face out of it, I look icky in the mornings.” to which he eagerly disagreed and pecked her lips but not before muttering something along the lines of “stunning”.

“Alright, I’ll give you your little video but you have to do something for me.” she suggestively proposed. To which he readily agreed as he loved her ‘just been fucked’ afterglow. He then turned off the old camcorder and attempted to put it away but she fingered the loops of his jeans “Uh uh turn it back on.”

He was sure his eyes were completely bulging out of his skull and managed to mutter a “Charlie a-are you serious?” in his daze. She nodded and sunk down to her knees as she slowly tugged down his boxers and elicited a low groan from him.

In the lens of the camera she expertly handled his member with care and tenderly began to stroke him giggling at his floored expression. “You ready for me, Tobias?” she tantalizingly asked not ceasing her stroking. Receiving an eager nod and thumbs up from the camera she smirked at her success in making the talkative bastard speechless. Expertly she teased his large in girth and lengthy member with the tip of her tongue before guiding him into her mouth as she had done tons of times before sucking her mans dick like a woman starved.

“Oh god, slow down baby.” Tobias pitifully groaned while screwing his mind down as the love of his life expertly worked him. “You wanna be inside me, baby?” she whispered in a sultry tone against the head of his member cursing a pleasant shiver to rack his body. He didn’t answer but instead made a gesture behind the camera for me to turn around. He thanked the heavens above for the easy access and the fact that she was wearing one of his shirts and abandoned underwear long ago. She hissed as his large strong hand cam crashing down on her bare ass, and soothed the pleasant sting with a soft rub. “Perfect.” he murmured as he continued his caressing of her more than generous backside. “How’s the view?” she asked with a wink through the mirror.

And with a quick and brutal thrust he was inside leaving her panting mess on the cold surface of the bathroom countertop as she moaned slowly.

“Amazing.” he quickly answered before he began his unrelenting deep thrust. “Deeper” she moaned out in the air. Resting on her palms and easing away from the countertop she made eye contact with a chipper Tobias as he violently thrust into her and she had to brace herself. “Where are you going Char?” Tobias teased as she stood on her tiptoes desperately in an unsuccessful attempt of creating space between them.

“Damn I know I told him deeper, but now he's just showing out for the camera.” she thought while groaning as he hit a spot inside her making let out a loud guttural moan. He made the most out of his opportunity reaching to rub her clit. Moaning even louder he soon used one hand to grip her shoulder as he angled the camcorder downwards to catch sight of his pelvis meeting her dripping cunt. Closing her eyes for some reprieve she opened them to meet Tobias’s eyes in the mirror to find him damn near gnawing through his lip to hold back his loud groans.

Her release soon crep up on her and she moaned loudly, “Baby, I-” to which he cut her off as he sped up his tireless thrust, “Me too. Don’t wait for me.” and with that she came harder than ever and fell back on the counter, a panting mess and sweating bullets and winced as he pulled out of her. She mistakenly thought he was going to clean her only for him to zoom in the camera to get a close up of her used pussy with his milky cum dripping out of her.

Once he caught his breath he chuckled “That was amazing and it wasn’t even my birthday.” to which she rolled her eyes with a dazed expression and a small smile on her face since enjoying the after effects of their morning activities.

“Yeah yeah you better delete that.” she warned turning on the shower.

“Uh-Uh Charlie we just made a porno, I’m downloading this to my USB and keeping it in my safe.” he remarked while being transfixed at the camcorder in his hands causing her to snort with laughter.

“Whatever, if it gets leaked I better get paid for it.” she declared while leaving to her shower leaving Tobias in a cheerful fit of post orgasmic laughter.

Fin.

A/N: That was nasty and you read it so you’re nasty too.

#tobias carrick #open heart #tobias carrick x oc #PB #choices #one shot #tobias carrick fic #tobias #carrick #poc #black woman #black lead #bwbm #spotify #f!mc

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the-professional-cutemeister · 3 years

Text

these, our bodies possessed by light || vergil x reader, chapter 1

The city of Red Grave has been defeated; Urizen, the devil king, has risen. No warriors have been able to best him, and countless lives have been offered to him in sacrifice. They say the devil king’s bloodlust is boundless… And you, last of the witches of Red Grave, are his betrothed.

(Vergil x F!Reader, with some V x F!Reader. Arranged marriage AU, with elements of Beauty and the Beast and 1001 Nights. An attempt to give Urizen some personality. Romance, eventually.)

much thanks to @tonitart for supporting me as i write this. <3 if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

read it under the cut or on ao3 here!

these, our bodies possessed by light

1. land a man in a landscape and he’ll try to conquer it

Today was to be your wedding day.

Soon to be married to the devil king, all you could feel was trepidation and fear. Your marriage was not one for love, far from it; it was a marriage of compromise. Of sacrifice.

An offering of your life, for peace between the humans and demons, a reprieve from the cruelties of hell on earth.

You have a responsibility, your aunt told you as you dressed in the nicest gown you owned. It’s an honor, to have so great a task bestowed upon you.

I am going to die, you wanted to say. Your finest dress would become your funeral gown.

As one of the last witches, you were offered to the devil. With your unique abilities, the people of Red Grave hoped that you might find a way to end the devil king’s reign of terror. While it was true that you possessed some magical power, you were experienced mostly with healing and incantations, rather than combat magic.

You had met the man—if he could be called that—who was to be your husband only once before. You were relieved that at least, you would not have to live in the Underworld for this union; you would live in a palace that remained on earth.

No man nor demon on this world or the one beneath could face him. The people were sure that his was the wrath of a god, unleashed upon a defenseless humanity, and that such a great and terrible god could only be sated by the ultimate sacrifice, the gift of life.

However, you remembered that day—meeting your betrothed, slouched on his throne as you were presented to him. He had not been any more amenable to the marriage than you were. Impossibly tall, his features masked by demonic armor, you had been unnerved at the sight of him. You recoiled when you imagined the marriage bed—you could not possibly be expected to perform the wifely duties for such a creature, could you? He looked utterly monstrous to your human eyes: a twisted appearance, his body the color of brimstone and blood and covered in roots and thorns.

His voice was inhumanly deep and rattled your very bones.

“Is this to be my bride? A human?”

Despite yourself, you froze like a rabbit faced by the wolf. Your heart thundered and you could not help but cower, because what defense did you have against this creature?

You let your eyes settle on him. You could not discern even a hint of humanity in him, only the cruel cold glow of blue light in the gnarls of his skin, the suggestion of a crown by the thorns on his brow. There was no soul in those eyes.

The man beside you quailed, though he had been the one who had arranged all this. He said, “This is an offering from the humans. One of our most precious—one of our own. A great sacrifice.”

You were hardly as great an offering as he made you out to be. You were no virginal young maiden, no legendary beauty, nor the prized first daughter of a proud and subjugated lord. Your life and your body were being thrown away to sate the bloodthirst of a devil that did not even desire you. What use were you, really, to him?

He seemed to consider this. “I could kill her,” he said, “the night we are married. I have no use for human scum.”

Your blood ran cold. He couldn’t possibly—but this was a devil, not just any devil, but the king of them. You would not put it past him to kill you in cold blood. You knew that devils would not hesitate to execute any mortal that dared displease them.

And those who had come to his house before you, all killed by his hand, were the evidence: warriors that dared take arms against him, spies who attempted to undermine his power from the inside, and others like you, who had been offerings from their own hometowns. They, too, had been sacrificial lambs, offered to the demon king in a desperate bid for the legions of hell to stop ravaging the land, misguided appeals to the devil king’s nonexistent mercy. You knew not why those women had been deemed unsatisfactory, nor how many they numbered, only that they had all failed to suppress the devil king’s thirst for blood.

Rumors abound that he took wives not for procreation nor for pleasure, but for his own sadistic, murderous desires. Some lived for quite a while, others only a single day before being executed. But they all ended up the same way: dead.

Today, at your wedding, you had to find out how you could stay alive.

Before you left, you recited a spell of protection for yourself, so that you might not come to harm. You spoke the incantation from your memory as easily as you read it from a book, the familiar words and energy of the magic calming your mind. You pulled out a pendant you wore around your neck, a simple crystal you had infused with dormant power. This you poured your protective ward into, then hid the pendant beneath your wedding clothes. Then, a prayer, to the spirits above and below, that your magic might hold, and your treacherous intentions remain obscure.

Your betrothed had made almost no arrangements for the ceremony, not that you thought demonic weddings were even supposed to exist, anyway. There was simply a minister who had administered the rite upon the both of you, reading aloud the marriage vows and presenting the documentation of your union. One other demon was present as your witness, and that was all. You found you much preferred this, if the alternative were to get married with the people’s eyes upon you, watching and complacent at your sacrifice.

Your husband was called Urizen. He remained seated and he spoke no more than was absolutely necessary. There was no reception after the ceremony, only a dispersal of the scant amount of demons in attendance.

He did not stay with you afterwards, either. In fact, you would not see him until well after night had fallen.

In the meantime you were introduced to your chambers. Possibly the only good thing about this was that you would be living in comfort, however short the rest of your life might be. The palace was an old one, standing centuries before your great-grandparents were ever born, and comprised of so many rooms and structures that you could conceivably take years to explore it all. It was clean, surprisingly so, but cold and empty. It did not have the life of servants bustling around, or any other residents. Or maybe it did, and you had not seen neither hide nor hair of them. The palace was certainly large enough.

Of note were the books in what you assumed to be your husband’s room. There was an astonishingly large amount, and when you looked, they were mostly fiction and poetry, contrary to what you had thought. Some titles you even recognized, and many were well-worn, obviously read several times.

It was a strange detail, you mused, that a devil with such disdain for humans would so readily consume their literature. It was something that had kept the gears of your mind turning the rest of the day. You had a way with words, and writing had always been one of your strengths. This, along with the way your magic manifested, would be the key to your survival.

In the evening you took dinner alone. Despite being human, you were still considered with some respect, as you were served delicious food in a large and ornate dining hall. You were just completely alone; even the demons that served you were mere mannequins, unable to speak or perform actions beyond their purpose. You had the feeling that your new husband did not like to populate his home very much. You weren’t sure if that were better or worse; surely there would be no one to witness or call out to if he attempted to murder you, and you doubted that anyone would even notice in such a situation.

After dinner you washed up, spending so long in the bath you were sure you would shrivel up like a prune. You didn’t want to think about what was to come once you headed to bed; Urizen had not yet returned from wherever he had gone.

With apprehension you left the bath and dressed for bed. You wore a long nightgown, one that covered your body as much as possible. You missed your corset and your layers that shielded your body, much better than a simple nightgown could. You climbed into the bed, a large, ornate affair carved from dark wood and curtained with damask. The bed was sinfully soft, and against your better judgment you found yourself slipping into sleep as you lay there, wrapped in blankets and exhausted from the day’s events.

* * *

You didn’t want to do this.

Terror clasped at your very bones as the plan was explained to you: you, the last witch remaining in Red Grave, would be sent tomorrow into the devil king’s lair under pretense of an offering, as many other towns and cities had attempted to do.

“Hide your magic,” your aunt told you. “Find out what you can about his protections.”

“Yield to his demands,” your uncle instructed you. “Do what you must to survive.”

Numbly, you nodded, even as your veins ran cold.

“Your life is no longer your own,” they said. “The people of Red Grave count on you, now.”

The people of Red Grave had sent their men and women in futile attempts to fight the demon king. When that failed, they began to leave, or to bend the knee to cruel and demonic overlords. Some had fled to Fortuna, hoping that the supposed land of Sparda’s blessing would offer respite from the demonic invasion. Only a few years later was that hope disproven; demons installed themselves in that city’s highest of holy orders, and now Fortuna too bowed under the weight of hellish rule. Your parents had gone to war, too. They fought, and they died, and now you were expected to assume that burden.

You pressed a hand to the crystal that hung from your neck, a last gift from your mother, who taught you everything you know.

Then you silenced your fear. Outside, the summer flowers bloomed, mindless of the blood spilled on their grounds, and you promised upon your life to venture into the heart of the devil king.

* * *

You immediately woke at the opening of the door. You were still restless, after all. Moonlight still poured in through the window; you hadn’t been asleep long. The one who entered was a devil, one you recognized attending your wedding. From his chest he glowed orange, the light the color of molten rock, with an impressive set of wings extending from his back. He spoke:

“My lady. You are summoned to the throne room.”

You blanched at the address, though you expected it as befitting one who was the demon king’s wife. You supposed this made you a queen, but the title meant nothing when you felt like a prisoner. You were not allowed in the throne room, not unless you were explicitly summoned. Despite your position, you held no power in this place. All you had were your brains and the strength of your will.

“Y-Yes,” you wavered, and stood unsteadily, your hands wringing at the cloth of your nightgown. You followed the devil to the large room where Urizen stayed, dark save for the fireplace, kept lit with blue flames.

It was your husband, looking much the same as he had during your wedding. He still wore the same expression of cold indifference. At his side floated the ever-present red jewel, a mysterious object from which you could feel waves of strong demonic power. What manner of magic was it, you wondered?

“My lord husband,” you addressed him, taking a knee as you had been instructed to.

“Wife,” he grumbled, as if saying the word pained him. “Get up.”

You stood. Urizen was seated on his throne, one arm bending to support the chin, eyes skating over you to land on the flames in the fireplace as if you weren’t even there.

You had not moved. You bit your lip, wondering if what you had in mind would work, or if it were even sane. Once again, the image of the books next to the chair revived itself in your mind.

“My lord husband,” you said again, “may I interest you in a story?”

Your voice interrupted his brooding. He raised his head slowly from his hand, his face turning towards you in what looked like a silent fury. You hoped you hadn’t inadvertently angered him with your seemingly inane question.

“…A story?”

There it was, that deep, deep voice that sounded like the rumble of the earth itself. There was something strange in his tone: less animosity, something more akin to questioning. Maybe curiosity, if you were feeling generous.

“Yes,” you said, “I like to tell stories.”

You could barely keep the tremor from your own words. So far, he had done nothing, but Urizen still terrified you, as distant and dangerous as he was, the sound of his words before still echoing in your head.

I could kill her the night we are married. I have no use for human scum.

You didn’t know if he was serious or not. Maybe for now he would keep you alive, or maybe he would murder you later.

“You realize this is no harmonious marriage,” he said. “You mean nothing to me. I do not care about your stories.”

He sneered the last word. You could not help but shiver, but your mind’s eye once again found those well-worn books, stories and poetry that were clearly loved and perused. How long had it been, you wondered, since he had cracked open a book?

You settled yourself next to his throne. Carefully you started to speak, weaving the story you had formed in your mind. You had always been a lover of art, of literature, and you had dedicated many years of study to the humanities. You felt you could put together a story that would keep his attention and weave your spell so that your husband would not lay a hand on you and—maybe—change his heart.

To your astonishment he made no move to stop you. On the contrary, he seemed like he was listening, though he never said a word and never did he turn those cold eyes towards you.

You felt your resolve waver, but you didn’t let yourself falter, not when you had lulled him into this strangely receptive mood with your words. You still feared the devil—after all, he could so easily kill you, and even slouched in his throne you felt the aura of death from him. The red crystal revolved, silent and dangerous.

You continued your tale. You told it all the way until you had reached the last of what you’d written. The hero had fled the destruction of his hometown and met a young woman to whom he’d recounted his tale. He felt torn between his need for vengeance and the feelings that were quickly growing for her.

“Is that all?” Urizen asked.

You looked out the east window. The sky was swathed in violet and edged in gold by the encroaching sun.

“Morning approaches, my lord husband,” you said. “The story must be continued the next evening—I haven’t slept.”

He grumbled, but made no further complaint. Then, “Get out.”

“My—”

“Return to your chambers. Bother me no further.”

You quickly stood, nodded, and nearly ran out of the throne room. You weren’t sure how long you ran, or if you were even going in the right direction, but you made it back eventually.

You closed the door behind you, chest heaving, and not only from the running. You felt like you had just escaped with your life, and when you clutched a hand to your chest, your heart was pounding. You clenched your fists, fear and anxiety knotting between your lungs.

Knees weakening, you fell back into the large, soft bed, trying to calm your racing heart. After tossing and turning you fell finally into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning you woke alone. So, he didn’t have you killed in your sleep, at least.

When you looked out the window the sun was already high in the sky. You’d slept in a little; considering how late you’d stayed up the previous night, telling your husband your story, it was to be expected.

You hadn’t been given any actual responsibilities in your new home. You had the distinct feeling that Urizen considered you little more than a nuisance in his home; a thing without real purpose here. It suited you just fine: the more invisible you were in this den of demons, the more likely you were to get out of this alive. And the longer you stayed, the more you would become acquainted with the devil king, and his weaknesses, no matter how small those might be. All you needed was a single chink in his armor, and you’d be able to work your magic.

Your husband, to your knowledge, had never left the throne room. You could not go to check; the red devil that had escorted you there the night before was also nowhere to be seen. Was he just a servant, you wondered, or something more? His presence at the wedding implied the latter.

With you thus unoccupied, you decided to fill your day with exploration. The palace was undoubtedly beautiful, and you wondered why a devil would take such a place as residence. Maybe it was a site of great demonic power…? The home of a conquered human lord? You would not put it past the devils to take a man’s home as a war trophy. You were simply astonished at the state the house had been left in: it was pristine, as if servants cleaned it every day, as if demonic forces had never breached its walls. The glass of all the windows remained intact, the floors sparkling; elegant curling columns reaching towards beautifully painted, vaulted ceilings, and stained glass throwing multicolored light against the walls.

Wandering the halls, you trailed a hand absently along the walls. The sunlight shone brightly outside, and the thickness of the air signaled the height of summer approaching.

Somehow, you found yourself at the far corridor of the west wing. Judging by the sun’s position, it could not be later than noon, and so you thought a bit more exploring could not hurt until you were expected to take your midday meal.

This part of the palace was as pristine as the rest of it, just as clean and untouched, but the energy felt different here. Where you previously felt ignored by the few beings that crossed your path in the halls, here you simply felt… alone. It wasn’t a lonely feeling. On the contrary, you felt peace in the solitude.

At the end of this corridor was a large double door, vaulted, heavy and inlaid with colored tile. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. After checking to see that you were indeed alone, you placed both hands on the beautiful doors and pushed, making your way inside.

The room that revealed itself to you was a vast library, with towering shelves that seemed never-ending. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, so bright and the air so still that you could see the motes of dust floating.

The way the doors creaked and the difficulty in pushing told you that no one had set foot in here for a very long time. You supposed demons did not really have much time or purpose for human literature, though once again you thought of the books in your chambers. Were they Urizen’s? You doubted it when you thought about it. He had not been to those chambers with you, and it seemed in character for him to arrange a whole separate suite of rooms for you, far away from himself.

You looked again to the library you were in. A shame no one seemed to come here, because this place had been built to take advantage of the sunlight. There were tables and chairs for writing, and cozy little alcoves for reading. You could easily picture yourself spending hours here. Your parents had nurtured a love for reading in you, and you felt a prick of loss at the thought of them.

As you lightly ran your fingers across the spines of the books, reading their titles, the dust stirred. Truly, no one had come in here in recent memory but you. You thought maybe this could be your hideaway, far enough that you could feel even a little like yourself again, and still close enough by that you could easily validate your presence here. All these books would help, too, as would the ones in your bedroom, for crafting more of the stories that had somehow ensnared your husband’s attention. And if, by chance, they held magical knowledge as well, you could do some surreptitious research.

Moreover, it was simply a beautiful place. Even if you were not in the clutches of a devil, you would gladly come here every day.

The sun outside heralded the afternoon, and you knew you would be fetched and served lunch. Quietly, you left the library, closing the doors behind you. You could return another time, you thought. For now, you would acquiesce to the expectations (however little there were) of you.

In the throne room a human was being brought to kneel before the demon king. This man had dared protest his power and struck one of his knights in retaliation. Such insolence demanded punishment, and the decree for him was death.

“Do what you must,” said Urizen. “My power will not be challenged.”

He waved an imperious hand, sprawled as he was on his throne. The guards took the prisoner away, heedless of his piteous cries.

“I did nothing wrong! It was him, he—”

They dragged him to the courtyard, the man’s struggling making a spectacle of the walk. It was just your luck: the window overlooking that courtyard was the one right in front of you.

One of the silent knights struck him across the face with his metal gauntlet. He fell to the ground, and another pulled him onto the chopping block.

His pleas were cut short by the descent of the axe upon his neck.

You stared, barely believing what had happened right in front of your eyes. A man had been killed. You watched the blood spurt, the ground turn red beneath him. Above the body, the branches of a large, leafless tree swayed in the windless air, its bark as white as bone. Red splattered over that bone-white tree, soaked into the earth beneath, and his head rolled on the ground with a heavy thunk.

What had that man done? You weren’t shocked that executions were carried out here at the palace itself, but seeing it was another matter entirely.

Were you going to be next?

You had no stomach for the rest of your meal. You stood, fighting the urge to retch, and took off back to your room. Feeling numb, you hoped that you would not be summoned to attend to your husband in the evening. You weren’t sure you could take another fright in the same day. To distract yourself, you made notes on the story you had started the previous evening, in the case that you would need to provide a continuation. Your mind wandered, far from the confines of the palace walls, as you wove your tale.

Of course, right before you were about to begin your evening toilette, the same devil from the night before came to your room to escort you to Urizen once again. Various other demons came in and out of the palace during the day, but this one was the only one you had encountered at night, not counting the mannequin demons that cleaned and served in the kitchen.

In case this devil was going to remain as your chaperone, you deigned to ask him his name.

“I can’t really say, my lady. But you can call me Tony.”

You noted there was a strange, clipped quality to his words, as if some spell or physicality prevented him from uttering his name. Or maybe you imagined it because demons had different voices than humans. More than that, though—

“Tony?” you echoed. “That’s…” An unusual name for a demon, you were going to say. Much too… human. His face, too, was far more humanlike than the other demons you had encountered.

To your surprise, he chuckled. “A weird name? Sounds better than Urizen, I’d say.”

His nonchalant manner took you off guard. You hadn’t been expecting this at all.

“I only meant that I didn’t expect a devil to have such a normal sounding name,” you explained.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t need to be complicated. Just Tony is fine.”

Before you knew it, you were back again in the great hall, standing before the doors to the throne room. Tony walked ahead of you to open the doors and once again, you saw your husband.

You walked through the large room, one you surmised was the largest one in the entire palace, approaching your spouse. Tony remained outside.

You tried not to let the images from earlier that day distract you too much. The man’s cries. The blood seeping into the ground. The tree that moved by itself.

You nearly crumpled the notes in your hand.

“Wife,” Urizen said, in that deep, dark tone. There was no discernable expression on his obscured face, and none in his voice. You bowed before him and awaited his instruction.

“The tale from yesterday. Continue it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. As long as this remained all he asked of you, you would be okay, probably. Shuffling through your notes, you began to recite the rest of the story.

Again he offered neither comment nor interjection, or really any reaction at all, which you supposed was the best you could hope for at the moment. The plot you’d woven was fairly basic: the hero of this story was torn between his mission and the growing love between him and the lady who had rescued him, and while he was making to leave, the lady asked to accompany him. She wanted to help him, she said. He did not want to get her involved in his problems.

“This is not just about you!” said she. “I lost loved ones in that attack too. And who’s to say they won’t attack this town too—”

“I have a mission. It’s dangerous.”

“With them out there, everywhere is dangerous,” she said. “I am going whether you want me to or not.”

Cursing his mission for vengeance, she left him to seek a new home for her family.

“What a strange tale,” Urizen said.

“Wh-what?” This was the first time he’d spoken about the story itself. You couldn’t tell whether he meant the comment as a compliment, or as a sign he disliked it, and a shiver of panic rose in you.

“If that is all, you may go.”

You weren’t done, but you also didn’t want to go against his word.

“Then I shall resume tomorrow evening, my lord husband.”

He said nothing, only waving his hand in dismissal. You gathered up your notes, bowed hastily, and left the room.

You wondered—why did he decide to comment on the story now? Was there something about the tale he disliked? He had given no clue as to his feelings, as always. His expression had remained inscrutable and distant. Your hands clenched around your books and papers, frustrated.

Tony was nowhere to be found outside. Alone, you walked back to your room, returning to fitful sleep.

“So? What about it, V?”

There was a crow perched on the top of an armchair in the library, where a young man sat deep in thought.

“Think she’s the one?” the crow asked the young man.

“She has power, I can feel it,” he responded. In his hands he held a book, idly flipping through the pages.

“But what about—"

He interrupted the crow. “She’ll come back. I’ll speak with her then.”

“If you’re sure,” the crow said. “Y’know, I could always fly out there, get her to come if you can’t—”

“No need,” he responded. “What she needs is here. She’ll come back.”

#vergil x reader #v x reader #dmc #devil may cry #vergil #vergil sparda #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc vergil x reader #fanfiction #my fics #fic: tobpbl

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sevenstarsinning · 4 years

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Summary: Raditz loses his mate when Planet Vegeta is destroyed and finds himself working alongside Prince Vegeta. When he comes to Earth to recruit his brother, he’s dealt another devastating blow when Goku refuses to join and leaves him near death. He’s found by a human and attempts to adapt to life on Earth.

Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 2

The smell of wet grass and dirt filled your nostrils when you awoke. Before you opened your eyes, you knew the sun was beaming overhead. Judging by the layer of sweat on your forehead, it was going to be a hot one.

Your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your body as you turned over to your back, groaning the whole way. Along with the nausea, your entire body ached from sleeping on the hard ground all night.

"Human, who are you and why did you sleep on me last night?" A large silhouette stepped up next to you, nearly blocking out the sun entirely.

"Thought you were just a vivid dream." As the events of the previous night flooded your brain, you realized how many unanswered questions there were regarding the handsome stranger.

"Wait... how are you standing? You were pretty much dying a few hours ago."

He bent down and grabbed your wrist, bringing you to your feet without much finesse.

"Hangover!" You shouted when you came face to face with his wide chest. A cold sweat broke out all over and before you could so much as turn your head away, you vomited all over the front of him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, human? That smells horrible," he growled, stepping back to get away from the odor but, of course, it followed him. He tugged at his armor and tried to wrestle it over his head but his face went pale before he could get it off.

"Spicy," you panted while you pulled your shirt over your head to wipe your mouth, "bar food, man... it's good going down but it fucking sucks coming back up."

He bent over and dry heaved a couple of times before his stomach emptied what little still remained. He groaned and clutched his ribs before pulling his cracked armor off the rest of the way. One side of it was almost completely gone and the rest was barely hanging together.

The two of you fell silent when you stopped and finally got a good look at one another. The only thing that covered him looked like some kind of spandex wrestling attire that left little to the imagination.

You stood a few yards away in a black bikini top from your visit to the community pool next to the bar the day before and your favorite pair of jeans, perfectly worn in and comfortable.

"As far as morning after looks go, this is not my finest. Self medicating hangover is not a good look on me," you said, breaking the intense silence between you.

"Who are you?" He asked again, completely unamused.

"Dude, you were dying in the field right next to my house dressed like you just left an anime convention. You tell me who you are first."

"I don't take orders from weak little humans," he snarled, offended you would even attempt to tell him what to do.

"I don't see any weak little humans," you shot back, unfazed by the difference in size between you. He had to be well over a foot taller and built like a tank.

He took in a sharp breath to come back with another insult but all that came out was a groan as he clutched his ribs and dropped to his knees.

You approached with caution as he tried to catch his breath. Each time he inhaled, the pain seemed to intensify. Even on his knees he was close to being at eye level with you.

"Do you need a doctor or... " you trailed off, unsure how to help him.

It was clear he wasn't from Earth which wasn't all that surprising or disconcerting living on the outskirts of West City. It seemed to be a hotspot for strange activity and visitors from the cosmos.

"No doctors," he growled.

"So, what, I'm supposed to just leave you here to die slowly? Not my style, big guy. Come on, my house is right over there." You took a step forward and offered your hand.

He tilted his head up to meet your gaze. The friendly smile you displayed took him by surprise. He expected some amount of fear from his less than welcoming first impression, but there wasn't any.

"I don't need help from a human," he grumbled as he began to stand.

"That's too bad, you're getting it anyway." You grabbed his arm to help him stay balanced and hoisted it over your shoulder. The second he let the full weight of his massive arm rest on you, it felt like you were sinking into the ground.

"Jesus fuck... how are you so goddamn big?"

"How are you so tiny?" He grunted, shifting to take a little weight off of you. All you could do was help keep him steady, anything beyond that was out of the question.

"I haven't been home in a couple of days so the house is probably a mess," you said, ignoring his question.

The small patch of woods near your house offered a short reprieve from the sun's intensity. You had never been more thankful for the end of summer. The sweltering hot days were miserable and difficult to enjoy because it was too uncomfortable to do much of anything.

You came to an abrupt stop when your house came into view. The front half looked fine, not a brick out of place. The back half had been reduced to crumbling walls and bits of rubble.

When your eyes settled on the pod sitting in what used to be your bedroom, you slowly turned your gaze to the stranger at your side.

"What's your name?" You asked, calm on the surface but inside your blood was boiling.

"Raditz, why?" He answered with a little more attitude than you could let slide.

"I'm assuming that's yours, Raditz?" You pointed to the small round ship surrounded by chunks of your walls and roof. Imagining him folding his massive body into the pod would’ve made you laugh if not for the anger over your house.

"Yes."

"And where you're from, I'm assuming you're well versed in galactic travel?"

"Yes, human. What are you getting at?" He sighed and clutched his ribs, not at all bothered by the fact that his pod decimated your house.

"This area is like 90% cow pasture, how the actual fuck did you crash land on my house?!" You shouted, loud enough for your voice to echo.

"How dare you raise your voice-"

"Oh fuck no, you're not pulling that high and mighty bullshit with me," you interrupted, hands shaking from the overwhelming anger.

"Do you have a death wish? I've killed beings bigger and far scarier than you for much less," he shouted back despite the pain he knew it would cause.

"You destroyed my house, you gigantic asshole!" You stared up at him, not the least bit intimidated.

"I'm warning you, human, your life means nothing to me and I won't hesitate to end it," he growled back.

"Is that supposed to scare me? Dude, this is Earth, like half of us wish for death every fucking day!"

Raditz opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out while he processed what you said.

Your chest heaved with a long, drawn out sigh. Without another word, you headed towards what was left of the house. The inside was a complete wreck even in the front half of the house. The impact of the pod hitting the back half of the house shifted everything and left the floor covered with valuables from your shelves and TV stand. The only thing left unscathed was the furniture.

Glass from broken picture frames crunched under your shoes as you navigated the living room to grab the first aid kit from the small closet across from the bathroom.

"Sit." You pointed to the couch when Raditz appeared in the doorway.

He hesitated for a moment, looking around at the chaos his ship caused. After crossing the threshold, he moved gingerly towards the couch and sat down next to you.

With the first aid kit laid out on the coffee table, you shuffled through to find disinfectant wipes, bandages, and whatever else you might need to get him patched up.

He slowly pulled his ripped up black spandex top over his head and sat back on the couch, shifting to find the most comfortable position. His whole left side was one massive bruise with cuts and dried blood smeared across it. The cuts on the rest of his body had long since stopped bleeding but still needed to be cleaned.

"I'm guessing you have a broken rib or two?" You finally turned to look at him. The anger and annoyance that marred his chiseled features just minutes before was replaced with curiosity.

He nodded and moved his arm out of the way to give you access to his battered side.

"How do you take care of broken bones where you're from?" You pulled a disinfectant wipe from a small foil packet and unfolded it.

"Medical machines," he answered. Right when you pressed the wipe to the cuts on his abs, he hissed.

"Keep talking, what's a medical machine on your planet?" You continued, hoping to keep him distracted from the discomfort.

"A pod... " he winced and took a deep breath, "full of a healing liquid... it can heal us from any wound as long as we're still breathing."

You placed a bandage over one of the deeper cuts and moved onto the next. "I wish we had something like that here. How long does it take?"

"Dammit, woman," he grunted when you added a little pressure to his ribs to clean another long gash.

"Depends on the wound," he said through gritted teeth, "minutes up to a few hours."

"And I'm guessing you don't have one in the pod that destroyed my house?" You raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

"Obviously not. What do you have on this pathetic planet that can heal me quickly? I have more important things to do than sit here and answer your questions," he bit back.

You pressed against his ribs out of spite and got an anguished groan out of him. Before you could return to cleaning the last of his cuts, he grabbed your arm to stop you.

"I could snap your wrist with one hand."

"Yeah? If you really wanted to, you would've just done it," you challenged. It was a gamble to keep pushing back but you ran out of fucks to give long ago.

A few seconds of silence passed between you and he finally released his grip.

His curiosity returned when you focused on patching him up as if he didn't just threaten bodily harm. The way you were able to be simultaneously angry and caring towards him wasn't something he expected from a human.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want a rotting corpse in the field next to my house," you answered without a second thought, "you're also not leaving until you fix the chaos your pod caused."

"I owe you nothing, human-"

"You're also kinda cute but that's not going to last long if you keep being a dick," you continued, turning your attention to his arm.

He jerked it away and growled when a sharp pain shot through his body.

"Feel like a big man now?" You chided before pulling his arm back into your lap.

"How do you expect me to fix this? I'm a warrior, not a builder."

You raised an eyebrow and said the first thing that came to mind. In retrospect, it was probably the worst thing you could've said but you were incapable of keeping your mouth shut.

"Maybe you'll be a better builder since you clearly suck at the whole warrior thing."

A tingle went down your spine when he turned his murderous glare to you. It wasn't the dying part that filled you with fear, it was the infinite number of ways he could go about it that made your life flash before your eyes.

#raditz x reader #raditz x female reader #raditz #dbz #dbz fic #let you go fic #supremeleadershitlord #7ss raditz

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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Disappear Here - 3/4

A/N: Hi guys! So, firstly, I decided to edit this to change it from 3 to 4 parts because I can never be brief with anything. So yes, there will be another part after this. Thanks for being patient I as got this part too, you guys are the best! Again, I recommend the acoustic version of Disappear Here by Bad Suns to set the scene! As always, feedback is welcome! xx

Based on this blurb (because I’ve gotten a few questions and realized I never really explained it - this blurb is in the present and everything else is in the past).

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: a wee bit of language

MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

SEQUEL

»»————-　♡　————-««

There was not a single sound in the room beside Javier’s light snores as you opened your eyes to the soft early morning light. The sun was filtering in through the thin curtains that covered the open window. The streets were quiet for once; no children out and shouting, the traffic was all but nonexistent. It should have been the perfect start to the day - should have, but wouldn’t be.

Your fingers played with the surprisingly delicate fabric of Javier’s sheets as you faced the window, a million thoughts racing through your mind. A small sigh escaped your lips despite your best efforts to remain silent. You weren’t even sure what it was for: were you happy, or were you more worried about what happened next? What would happened after you finally slept with him? You hadn’t thought that far ahead, no, last you’d gotten much more carried away, getting lost in every part of Javier.

“Let’s make a horrible decision,” had been the last words out of your mouth before you forgot where you ended and Javier started. After that it had turned into a long night of passion at Javi’s. At first you had wondered how many other girls had been in his bed before you, but as soon felt Javi’s mouth move down your body, you decided you didn’t care. All you wanted was Javi, Javi, Javi.

Almost as if the millions of thoughts bouncing around in your heard had stirred him from slumber, Javier turned around so he was facing your back, an arm snaking around your waist. He let out a small content sigh as he pressed a few soft kisses along your bare shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. You bit your lip, happy he couldn’t see your face, all he would have seen was the confusion etched deep into your features. You remained silent for a few moments before placing a hand on top of his much larger one and giving it a light squeeze. Wrong wasn’t necessarily the right word…more like unsure or confused. You’d really just gone and slept with him. Even after you promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“Nothing,” you whispered after you felt his breathing deviate from its formerly steady rhythm, “just…you know, waking up.”

“A horrible liar,” he sighed as he pulled back from you, laying on his back as he stared at the ceiling. In reality you weren’t a terrible liar, it was more that he was able to read you so easily, more so than anyone else.

“Javi,” you turned to him, reaching over and grabbing his face, forcing him to look at you. He wore an unreadable expression.

“Y/N.”

“Javier,” you retorted, locking eyes with his soft brown ones, “I…we probably shouldn’t have done this. But it’s my fault. And I can’t blame you for it, not entirely anyway-”

“I thought you wanted this?” he had a point - you’d practically thrown yourself at him the night before. You definitely didn’t do anything to stop him, in fact you were only asking him for more. You had most definitely wanted it.

“I did,” you admitted and he let out long sigh; you were a hard one to read, even you could admit that, “but I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the opportunity to just do it. To just jump right into bed with you.”

“Y/N, you’re making no sense,” his eyebrows knitted together as you pointedly looked away.

“I know…I just,” you ran a hand through your messy hair before pausing and sliding out of the bed, your face flushing when you realized you were naked. Not like it mattered at this point, he’d seen every inch single inch of you in the most intimate manner. You made a mad dash to grab your clothes that littered the floor and slipped them on haphazardly, “I don’t know what we expected this to lead to. I’m not usually down for a one night stand, and it’s not like this is going to change anything between us.”

“Meaning?” he sat up and watched intently as he tried to figure out where you were going with your statements.

“Meaning that now we’re just going back to work after having fucked and have to pretend we haven’t just...done everything that we did,” you sighed. Considering the state of your neck and collarbones, that would be a hard one to ignore; people would notice the markings right away. Light bruises covered your soft skin liberally, “it’s not like we’re suddenly going to be dating, we can’t even technically do that, and I’m not going to turn into your routine Thursday night booty call.”

“Is that all you think this is? Us fucking?” his voice was elevated and had a bite to it as his gaze seared into yours. Clearly you’d struck a nerve.

“Am I wrong?” you threw your hands up in exasperation, trying to get him to understand the gravitas of the situation, “you have a reputation for a reason, Javi, I’m not ignorant to that fact. Hell, half of the country probably knows, Lord knows most of your informants do. And I’m not going to be one of those girls. And it’s not like you’re suddenly going to turn into the model boyfriend.”

“Huh,” he sighed as he rubbed his eyes, his morning quickly into a scenario very different from what he had expected, “why did you even come home with me then? If you think so little of me? Of what this is-”

“What is it then, Javi?” you crossed your arms over your chest, “tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that this isn’t just a one night stand.”

“Why should I bother?” defeat colored his tone as he got out of bed and grabbed his own clothes, “you’ve clearly made up your mind. So why not, then I suppose? You were right, Y/N, this was just a one stand. All I wanted to do was fuck you.”

“Javi-”

“No, you’re right,” he opened the door to the bedroom and pointed towards the front door, swallowing the lump that had appeared in this throat, “just like always. Now get out, rookie.”

“Javier-”

“Get out,” his tone left nothing up for discussion as he moved out of your way. This had turned out very differently than you had imagined. As much as you wanted to hash this out with him, you knew better than to argue when you were both worked up - it wouldn’t end well. Instead you silently brushed past him, storming out of his apartment and slamming the door shut.

If you were so convinced that all he wanted was a one night stand, why were you so upset? Why did you so desperately want him to prove you wrong?

»»————-　♡　————-««

After your altercation with Javier, which you knew was largely your fault, you went back to your apartment and hid out there. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, considering it was down the hall from the man himself, but it was better than nothing. You decided not to go into work, preferring to avoid that whole situation entirely: was it immature? Maybe. Did you care at that point? Not in the slightest. You’d deal with the ramifications of everything on Monday morning, after getting some time to think everything through.

It had all been fine and well until that evening, late at night as you tried to go to sleep. You had heard people walk into the building, the sounds of hushed whispers wafting under your door as you cleaned up your kitchen. You just rolled your eyes and carried on. But as you got ready to go to bed, you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard some loud banging coming from down the hall.

Your instincts took over as you threw open your door and bolted down towards the sound; you’d even managed to grab your gun in the process, just in case. Just in case Escobar or someone else had tracked you down. It was an ever-looming threat. But when you reached the end of the hall and found yourself facing Javier’s door, your heart plummeted to the bottom of your stomach. The sounds were coming straight from inside, the loud and repetitive bang, bang, bang intricately mixing in with moans and a slew of Spanish. You knew those moans, hell you knew that voice. Javier. It was all Javier.

As you backed up, you felt a familiar stinging in your eyes as you realized what it meant. You tried to remain as silent as possible as you retreated back to your own apartment; not like it mattered anyway, there was no way that he would hear your over what he was currently doing.

Sighing, you tossed the gun onto the table before heading to go to bed. Sleep was the only viable option at this point. Hell, you’d brought this on yourself, you’d let yourself catch feelings for, and acted on this feelings. You knew it would this way. But it still hurt like hell, and didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next Monday at work was exactly what you thought it would be: awkward, tense, stiff, horrible. But you knew you couldn’t hide away forever, that the more time you missed people would grow suspicious. So you forced yourself into the office, arriving after Steve and Javier. When you walked the two of them glanced at you, Steve offering you a warm smile and Javier looked away almost immediately, his mouth forming into a thin line.

Yup, this was going to be fun. You thanked your lucky stars that your request for a transfer was still in; maybe it was time to take that more seriously.

The first day was long and painful, only a few words exchanged between the three of you. You were glad when Steve and Javier were called away; Steve asked if you wanted to come, but you just shook your head, turning back to the paperwork in front of you. For once you were glad to have the excuse of such a menial task.��

And that’s the how the next several weeks passed, much in the same manner. The days dragged on and you’d fallen into the rhythm of staying behind and doing things around the office while your partners did the field work. At first, Steve had questioned you ruthlessly about why you suddenly didn’t want to join them in the field, but when he noticed how you and Javier were interacting, or rather not interacting, he realized something was up. But he didn’t push it; so he decided to do his best to give you both his time equally.

Relief finally, finally, came after almost a month of tension. when Noonan called you into her office and let you know that there was a spot opening up in Mexico and it had your name written all over it. A wave of relief has washed over your body as you realized that you soon this would be over, soon you’d have a fresh start with new people in a new place. Heaven.

The only thing was that you’d have to wait another month before you could, but you graciously accepted the offer. You’ already survived a month of this tension, you could survive another one. Besides, with this in the distance, it would be enough to see you through it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next morning you’d headed into the office early, deciding to get a head start on wrapping everything up; you didn’t want to leave them with lots of work to do once you were gone. Steve, to your surprise, showed up a few minutes after you, just as surprised to see you there as early as him. He greeted you with a smile before heading to his desk; he was silent but you could feel his gaze concentrated on you. You choose to ignore it, pretending that somehow you couldn’t feel it.

“So...heard you’re leaving,” you were wondering how long it would take for him to find out. You were surprised it took this long, even though only a day had passed. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you lifted your eyes to meet his and gave him a small nod. There was a hard to read expression etched onto his face, “Mexico can be a dangerous place.”

“So can Columbia,” you countered, before the two of you sharing a small laugh. You would miss him; he was kind and gentle, and always made it a point to check in on you. And Connie; sweet, gentle Connie, who you’d probably more than intruded enough in the past few weeks in order to get avoid Javier. You’d miss them both dearly.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his serious tone creeping back up, his eyebrows raised in question. You subconsciously bit your lip as you let out a long sigh.

“Look, Steve, it’s just...there’s no future for me here,” you tossed your pen back down and threw your head back with a long sigh, “and besides, you and Peña have got it all handled. You don’t need me, you never needed me.”

“Y/N, look, and please stop me if I’m wrong, but whatever between you and Javi, it doesn’t matter. It’s no reason for you to leave,” he went on and your face immediately paled. You thought you were being subtle, that you were so slick, but little did you know that you were terribly wrong. in reality everyone knew, “this is a job, and it’s our job. You really going to leave all this over that asshole?”

“Steve,” you felt your eyes start to well up, but you laughed at him nonetheless. You really hoped that you’d have someone like him when you arrived in Mexico City, “I appreciate all of your kindness. You’ve always treated me like a real partner. But I can’t do this, not like this. Noonan told me she thought I could handle it, and I thought I could too, but apparently it’s not enough.”

“And what if the same thing happens in Mexico?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he won’t be there,” you answered honestly. You felt pathetic for a moment; here you were a strong, independent woman, running away because you couldn’t control your emotions over one man. But not just any man. Javier Peña.

“If you’re sure,” he asked, somehow hoping you’d change your mind a last ditch attempt to keep you there. That maybe somehow you’d suddenly see the light and realize you were meant for Columbia not Mexico.

“Yeah,” you insisted, using the last bit of vigor and resolve you had left in your voice. Both of you could see right through it though; there was no heart behind your answer, “I’m sure.”

Javier shook his head to himself as he leaned against the wall and sighed. Just like you and Steve, he too had the brilliant idea of coming in early to get extra work done. You were serious this time, you were actually leaving. All because of him. Part of him knew he should have rushed in there and told you not to go, to tell he was sorry, and that he wanted to try and talk things through, but he couldn’t.

He found himself frozen there, listening to you and Steve. Just when he felt the contents of his stomach churning slightly too much, he decided to leave he’d had enough. He stormed out of the embassy, ignoring repeated calls of his name as he decided to find solace in something, anything, else. He just couldn’t there. Not at that moment anyway.

And as he went to visit his favorite brothel and spent the day there, the only thing on his mind was you. His companion for the day didn’t even mind when he called her by your name. But he did; he wished it was you he was giving himself too, not some girl who’d forget him as soon as he left and she welcomed a new client in.

Javier knew the two of you had been acting like immature teenagers, just avoiding each other and pretending the other didn’t exist. It was dumb, and completely irrational, but it had been the easiest option at the time. But now he knew what he had to do. He couldn’t just let you leave…at least not without speaking his piece first.

»»————-　♡　————-««

His revelation came a few nights later, while you were in the middle of packing. You hadn’t been expecting him, or anyone for that matter, and the loud and rapid banging startled you so much you dropped the wine glass in your hand. You sighed at the mess of glass shards and blood red wine before deciding to leave it for now and seeing who was at the door.

You shuffled towards the door, navigating through a few stacks of boxes before reaching the front of the apartment. Peering through the peephole, you cursed under your breath when you recognized Javier on the other side of your door. Maybe you could pretend that you weren’t home?

“Come on, kid, I know you’re in there,” of course he did. If he hadn’t heard you dropping the glass or heading towards the door, he’d probably still know. You decided to ignore him, hoping that maybe he’d just go away. But you knew better than that, you knew that wasn’t Javi’s style. Just before you walked away, a soft sound of exasperation reached your ears, “Y/N, please open up. Look, I just…I just want to talk.”

Every rational fiber left in your being told you to ignore him, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. This was Javier after all.

Instead you opened the door slowly, revealing him on the other side, a tired and worn out expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he said as soon as his eyes landed on you. You wished you could have retorted with a smart remark, but instead you just found yourself staring at him.

Only a matter of seconds passed before Javi’s hands were on either side of your face, and he crashed his lips onto yours. It had become a familiar sensation, how he felt and tasted, and despite the fact that you were embroiled in some sort of silent stand off with him, you had missed this. You had missed him.

“Javi,” you managed to get out in between kisses, which were quickly becoming more and more heated, his hands flitting all over body as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled back momentarily before peppering kissed along your jaw and working down your neck, “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“Me too,” you agreed in between the soft moans that escaped your lips as he trailed his fingers over the bare skin of your hips and nipped at the delicate skin of your neck, surely leaving bruises that would be hell to cover tomorrow, “I’m sorry too.”

“I want you,” he insisted, punctuating each word with a bruising kiss to your lips. You met his eyes, and you could see there was not even a remote hint of joking in his eyes, “you. Only you. I can’t get you off of my mind.”

“Javi,” you put your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a little, despite how much you wanted him. Your heart was screaming at you in annoyance, while your brain was happy with your decision, “I…this is…I’m leaving, Javi. I’m leaving for Mexico in less then 2 weeks.”

You took a step back and gestured into your apartment that was nothing was boxes. He let out a long sigh when he realized just how serious this all was. You were actually leaving; it wasn’t just a boast.

You stepped inside and waited for him to follow, listening to the door click shut. It was quiet in the small space for once, much more quiet than you cared for. The stillness was almost too much to bare. So many unspoken words were hanging in the arm and it felt like they were going to suffocate you.

“You’re really going,” it wasn’t a question so much as a statement. You nodded before leaning against the counter, waiting for him to say something; anything, “you shouldn’t go. It’s dangerous there.”

“As compared to the peaceful little paradise here in Columbia? What is it with you and Steve?” you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, “and besides that, I can handle myself. This is a dangerous job regardless of location, for anyone.”

“Do you remember what they did to Kiki Camarena?”

“Everyone knows what happened to Kiki. I’m well aware. The people who did that to him, namely Miguel Felix are done for. It’s been years,” he really was going there with you, “and what about all the things Escobar and his men have to done to people? Carrillo - and I know he’s your friend but he’s not always innocent either. I’ll be able to handle myself, Javier. It’s not like I’ll be alone.”

“Please don’t go,” his arguments were weak, even he was aware of that but it wasn’t going to stop him, “at least don’t just leave because of me. Leave for a better reason. Leave because you really want to.”

“I am doing this because I want to,” it was only a partial lie. You did want to get out and make a name for yourself in another place…but you also did want to get over Javier. And the only way to do that, you had come to realize was to leave. If was almost ironic - you’d never once let your feelings for man or woman get in the way of your job. Not until him.

“You’re not doing this because of me…of what happened between us?” he was doing his best to try and break you down and he knew he had you where he wanted you. You sucked in a breath and nodded, pointedly avoiding his eyes, “eres una mala mentirosa.”

“Si,” you agreed with him, “lo sé.”

“Don’t do this then,” he reached over and put his hand gently on your cheek, trying his best to get you to look at him, “don’t make a decision you’ll only regret.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll regret it?” you put your hand on his wrist, at first attempting to pull his hand away, but finding yourself unable, “besides, Javi...there’s nothing here for me. You and I both know that.”

“You don’t know that though,” he insisted, “I’ve been thinking, a lot-”

“Oh dear,” you interrupted him, a small bit of laughter bubbling up - but he wasn’t amused.

“Y/N, I’m trying to be serious-”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“Woman, you are going to be the death of me,” he was getting exasperated and ran a hand through his already messy brown locks. You hopped on the empty kitchen counter, barely able to keep the self satisfied smirk off of your face. You knew he was being trying to be serious, but you had always loved teasing him and pushing him to the edge, “now will you be silent for a few moments and just let me talk?”

“The floor is yours, Agent,” you gestured for him to go on and he let out a long breath. No other woman had ever put him through so much, so many highs and lows before. Not until you. And that’s how he knew, he knew it was supposed to be you.

“Listen,” he stood in front of you, hands on either side of your body as he took up the space between your legs, “I know what I am, who I am, and what everyone thinks of me. I’m not an idiot. But you, you’re never treated me like everyone else, well you and Murphy anyway, but I’m not interested in Murphy-”

“Javi...”

“I don’t normally do...the relationship thing for various reasons,” he admitted, “and getting attached to someone, someone you could lose, it’s not a good idea. Feelings are dangerous.”

“So it’s easier to just fuck people?” you knew he had a point, but you nudged him gently with your let to let him know that you weren’t judging him. Hell, if you could have so easily given into being okay with hookups, you probably would have been doing the same thing.

“Obviously,” he hung his head and let out a long breath through his nose.

“What’s changed then, Javi? Why do you think you can do a relationship now?”

“You,” he answered honestly, lifting his head and searching your face for any sign of what was going on in your mind. You couldn’t deny that his answer that had set a flame off in your stomach that was slowly spreading through your bones. But you did your best to try and keep your face neutral; you didn’t want to just give him the upper hand completely, “it’s you been, kid.”

“Okay, first of all, if you’re trying fuck me or whatever, you gotta stop calling me kid,” you laughed, trying to loosen the tension a little bit, “besides, I’m your partner not just some kid that just hangs around the office.”

“Fair enough,” the slightest bit of a smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth, “do you prefer Rookie-”

“For you it’s either Agent L/N, or Y/N. Anything else and I’ll show just how proficient I am with a gun,” you waggled a finger at him, which caused him to finally loosen up and laugh. You both knew that aim was not your strongest suit.

“Listen,” he took a step closer to you, leaving only a small bit of space between your bodies. You wondered if he could hear the rapid beating of your heart, “I’m not going to give you a sappy speech or whatever, but I will be honest with you. I want you, Agent L/N, and whatever that entails, relationship, everything.”

“You’re sure...?” you asked quietly, hoping you weren’t somehow setting yourself up for a huge disappointment, “you’re willing to give up your whole...bachelor thing? You know what that means, right?”

“Like I said, I’m not an idiot,” he brought his face closer to yours and if you would have leaned even the tiniest bit closer, your lips would have been on his. His hands moved to your waist and you didn’t even bother to hold back the small sound of surprise muddled with content, “that means only you.”

“No more side pussy,” you insisted, carding a hand through his hair, and tugging at it to prove your point, “not for information, not for pleasure. And I’m being serious. If we were to do this...you’ve got to be all in.”

“No more side pussy,” he agreed, wasting no time in closing the tiny distance between your lips and kissing you hungrily. You gave into him and let him lead, trying to remember every touch, every feel, every taste you were currently experiencing. It was enough to leave you all but completely senseless, “only your pussy. I’m all in.”

“Javi,” you managed to choke out as his hands roamed under your shirt, and his mouth found your collarbones. He was barely doing anything and here you were, coming completely undone underneath him, “we..bad idea...work...”

“Fuck them,” he whispered into your skin as he started to tug your shirt off. It didn’t take much for you to acquiesce and lift your arms up so he could easily pull it off and throw it to the side.

“Jesus,” you melted into his touch as his hands and mouth found your breasts. You were glad that you’d already long since removed your bra, “Javi.”

“Don’t go to Mexico,” it was a plea, as close to begging as he could get in your current situation, “stay.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #reader insert #narcos #narcos fanfiction #disappear here series #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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askmalal · 4 years

Text

There was a lad from Ultramar,

Who was a small time thief,

The Magistrate sent him off to serve,

And pay for all the grief.

And when they put him on the fleet,

He got down on his knee,

And begged the Captain, “Sir, be kind

No Astral Sailor me.

I know nothing about the guns,

The sky is not my friend,

Oh send me back to Ultramar!

I’ll never steal again. “

The Captain looked upon the lad

And said “Boy,

You need repentance.

You must serve aboard my ship,

And carry out your sentence.”

But the lad he got the stellar shakes,

Of food, he kept none down,

He couldn’t swab, or clean the guns,

Without a pallid frown.

“Oh send me back to Ultramar,

The warp, she makes me ill,

The currents of the astral tide,

They leave me green in gill.

Oh send me back to Ultramar,

I’ve learned my lesson well.

Oh send me back to Ultramar!

For me, this life is hell.”

And the Boatswaine came to like the lad,

No cruel tyrant could he be . For the lad was just

A foolish boy, no master crim’nal he.

And the Captain not without a heart,

He knew the fear too well,

For once as but a powder fetch,

He too had known that hell.

Oh send me back to Ultramar!

Cries our dear, distressed boy.

His heart is full of trouble.

Oh send me back to Ultramar!

I stole but one small bauble!

And so they take the lad aside,

And look him in the eyes.

“My boy,” Cap says, “this all must cease,

End these incessant cries.

You’ve got to give us peace.

Prove your value, do your duty well,

And then you’ll earn release.”

And from the lad, within his depths,

Did determination swell. To be free

He would do his duty, learn to do it well.

He swabbed the deck till clean enough

Could sailors safely eat.

He hauled the powder too and ne’er once complain’d

Of sore and aching feet.

He manned the stations, manned them well,

Helped cook serve the porridge.

He served before the Xenos ships,

And never lost his courage.

And so the Captain said,

“Young man, a sailor you are true.

You’ve served the Emperor and done

Your duty through and through.

And so when next we see fair Ultramar,

Your service here will end. For we all know

Your mettle here.

Your pardon’s earned, my friend.”

The sailor lad he smiled so wide,

The crew did laugh anon.

“Thank you Captain. It is my honor

My reprieve with you I’ve won.

I’ll go back home to Ultramar,

For once I knew a girl...

I’ll go back home to Ultramar.

I’ll ne’er again leave that world!”

And so in dock at Ultramar,

They sent him there away.

And then they loaded all they’d need,

To the front they must away.

They took on crew, provisions, shells,

And loaded every bay.

And after days of loading up,

There came the muster drum,

When, running up the gang plank,

Whom but our lad should come?

A singing he a grand new tune,

His heart a beating fast:

“Take me away from Ultramar!

I’ll serve again, avast!”

“Oh take me out from Ultramar,

An Armsman-Sailor me!

Oh take me out from Ultramar,

To sail the stellar sea!

Oh take me out from Ultramar,

And I shall earn my berth.

I’ll serve within the Great Crusade.

I’ll prove again my worth!

Oh take me out from Ultramar,

I’ll not complain again,

For this home life is not for me,

The deep black sky’s my friend!”

And so they welcomed him aboard,

All glad to see him back.

The Bosun quietly spoke to him,

And bade him load his tack.

“And what strange fortune brings him here?”

Asks Cap of yonder lad.

“Nine months gone” says Bosun, true,

“He’s learned he’ll be a dad.”

- Crusade era Space Shanty

#horus heresy #askmalal #chaos gods #warhammer40k #malice #warhammer30k #malal

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zombiesbecrazy · 4 years

Text

So Much More

Summary: Despite the no kill rule, sometimes accidents happen. Jason gets an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night and has to take control of a situation he wasn't expecting.

AO3

Jason was brushing his teeth when he heard the tapping at his living room window, a soft but intentional sound, barely heard over the howl of the wind and the splattering of rain against the glass. It was a terrible night to be out on patrol, wet and windy and just down right miserable and Jason wasn’t surprised that one of the others was dropping in, either calling it a night or taking a short reprieve to warm up a smidge before heading back out. It happened more often than Jason really wanted, someone encroaching into his space unannounced, but he couldn’t deny that he liked the visits. The tap happened again, a little louder than the first time. It didn’t sound like Tim’s usual rhythm of knock when he dropped by and Dick had a habit of not knocking at all, simply slipping in and making himself at home whether he was invited in or not, so the list of usual suspects was dwindling fast.

Unlocking the window, Jason stuck his head out and spotted a familiar hooded figure sitting on his balcony, back curled against the wrought iron railing, looking small and chilled as the wind violently whipped through the alley.

There was a click of the tongue and the hood was pulled off in one motion of feigned dignity. “I need asylum.” A crack of lightening punctuated the statement and lit up the sky, only for a moment, but it was more than enough for Jason to see everything he needed to.

Damian was covered head to toe in blood. Unlike the rain pelting down, it was sticking to his uniform and no longer slick, clinging to him, threatening to never become clean and with a thick and dried smear on his cheek just below the edge of the mask. Bruises were blooming on his neck, large hands and fingers clearly marked as they had curled around his throat.

“Shit. Get in here.” Jason opened the window fully and stepped back as Damian stumbled through, tripping over the edge of the frame and into Jason’s conveniently positioned arms. Two deep but shaky breaths later Damian struggled to stand on his own, swaying a bit but shrugging off the hands hoping him up and taking a step out of reach. He pretended to ignore Jason and glared at the floor as if it has insulted his Father. Or Dick. “Are you okay, Kid?”

“I am unharmed,” sniped Damian but it lacked any sort of real bite, more of a reflexive reaction of a hurt animal growling when someone had time to help and Jason really didn’t have any patience for that sort of nonsense when said animal had shown up on his doorstep asking for help.

“Like hell you are. You look like you sliced an artery clean through.” His eyes flew over the smaller boy’s form, trying to suss out where the bleeding was coming from or where the worst of the damage was when Damian’s nostrils flared, only for a moment and it would have been easily missed if someone wasn’t paying close attention, but it was his version of flinching back violently after being burned, hand blistered and scalding after touching a stove. Such a small motion but it told Jason everything that he needed to know; an artery had been sliced, but it hadn’t been one of Damian’s own. “Oh.” Jason took a step back into his space and crouched down in front of him, hands sliding down Damian’s arms, no longer looking for injuries but in order to grasp his hands and squeeze them gently. "Self defense based on the marks on your neck." Damian avoided his look but nodded, rest of his body remaining statue still on the floor with a tremble coursing through his veins that Jason could only feel through their joined hands. “It's okay. You're alright. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He stood, dropping one of the hands but holding onto the other one tight, and led Damian through his bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. They were silent as they worked together to remove the Robin armor, greens and yellows stained by the red, and dropped it to the floor piece by piece until Damian was only wearing the base layer. Jason worked against the edge of Damian’s mask with delicate fingers, peeling the edges back with practices ease to minimize the pull against his skin. Once the mask was gone, Damian quickly reached up to rub his face, but not before the redness and puffiness were seen.

“Thank you. For letting me in. I cannot go back to the cave. Father will…” Damian’s voice was soft, but threatening to break apart with the smallest misstep, continuing to rub at his face. “I cannot go to the cave.”

“Never a problem. Why me though?” Jason hadn’t asked, but it had been running through his mind. He understood the hesitation to go back to the cave better than anyone, especially in a situation such as this, but he still shouldn’t have been at the top of the list for the kid to come to for comfort or help or whatever this was. He wouldn’t have even put himself in the top half of the list. “Why aren’t you on your way to Bludhaven?”

“Grayson would take me in but…” Damian’s eyes cast down, to his hands and rubbed them together roughly in a way that Jason was all too familiar with, trying to get rid of the feeling that they were still caked in blood despite his gloves now being in the pile on the floor. “Maybe later if I am needing a more permanent housing solution. For now I need…” his voice trailed off and he stared at the shower knobs.

Fascinating as his generic faucets were, Jason had a more pressing concern. “Do you need help with the evidence?” He really should have asked sooner. It really should have been the first question when Damian was out on the balcony, but now was better than never. “I get it. I’m the brother that will help you with disposal of a body.”

There was a small head shake. “I took care of it.”

“You sure?”

“I said it was taken care of, did I not?” snapped Damian, shoulders tensing in… something. Rage. Embarrassment. Guilt. Or a little bit of all three or perhaps something else entirely. “No. I just needed somewhere where I wouldn’t get that look, if only for a little while.”

“What look?”

“Disappointment.” Damian broke his stare-off with the shower, closed his eyes and let out a long breath in a clear attempt to try and centre himself. The gesture felt eerily familiar, like looking in a mirror from the wrong side and Jason was uncomfortable when he realised that Damian had pick up that particular routine from himself. “Whether Father yells or accepts it calmly, or if Grayson pretends like everything is fine or insists on comforting me, it is all the same. I let them down.” Damian turned slowly, craning up his neck to set his eyes on Jason, hard and cold and challenging him to be prove him wrong. “Even if tonight wasn’t intended, I am still just a murderer. It’s all I’ve ever been and all I ever shall be.”

Hugging Damian when he wasn’t expecting it was always a risk, but knowing that all of his weapons were currently on the floor of the bathroom helped Jason make his decision. Hell, Jason would have done it anyway because he hadn’t even thought to consider it, just automatically dropping and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You aren’t ‘just’ anything, Kid. There is so much more to you than any blood on your hands.” Damian’s small body relax against him. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough. Jason massaged the back of Damian’s head softly and as he did, Damian returned the hug, hesitantly at first but then his arms were tight around Jason’s neck. “Maybe you are right and we can’t wash the red out, not completely, but that doesn’t mean that is all that we are.”

Damian’s head nodded against his shoulder and dropped his arms, breaking the hug. Jason turned away, giving Damian the illusion of the privacy that he knew the boy wanted to believe to be true after such a visible display of emotion, and turned on the shower, steam rising quickly against the cold air. “Need any help in the shower?” Jason knew what the answer would be, but he had to ask. As the Robin costume had been removed, Damian had become more unsteady, becoming less of a well trained machine and more like the child that he still was. Like all of them had been. Shaky and scared and more than a little out of his depth now that the adrenaline was wearing off in a familiar and secure environment.

“I’m not a child, Todd. I can shower unassisted.”

Jason nodded. “Towels are on the counter. I’ll look some clothes out on the bed for you. I’m going to make tea. Any preference?”

“I’m sure whatever you choose will be suitable.” The response did nothing to settle Jason mind though because it wasn’t like Damian to not have some sort of opinion on anything, even something as basic as tea. Especially when it came to tea. Jason went to leave the room when Damian's hand grasped around his wrist to stop him. "It was truly an accident, Todd. I threw him off of me and he sliced his throat on some abandoned machinery. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too fast and he was gone in seconds. I couldn't even call for assistance in time."

It was what it was. It wasn't something that they liked to talk about a lot, but accidents happened in their line of work and this was far from the first time that something like this had happened, but as far as Jason knew, this was the first time that it had happened to Damian and he had clearly panicked, as anyone would.

Accidents always felt a thousand times worse than something done with purpose.

"It's alright, Damian. I'll take care of it."

The bathroom door locked behind him and Jason leaned against it and sighed, running his hand through his hair and taking a moment to sort out his plan of action. He took three deep breaths to try and settle the twitching that had started beneath his skin, the want and need to go out and do something rash, before pulling clothes out of Damian’s drawer for him, setting them on the bed and headed to the kitchen.

After starting the kettle, Jason opened his laptop and accessed the Batcomputer, logging into the tracker surveillance that followed where all of them went in their suits. It wasn’t something that was actively monitored on a regular night, only when something big was going down or if someone requested some back up, so Jason hoped that anything irregular wouldn’t have be noticed yet and narrowed down the filters to just watch the green dot indicating Damian’s trail, travel through the city at high speed. He had left the Manor at 8:37 and had seemed to be following patrol route C, a familiar one that followed a path through the western side of the city, far away from Crime Alley and the Ace Chemical, but still through neighbourhoods that tended to get ignored by the cops because they were not important enough to be protected but simultaneously not bad enough to have a regular presence. It was one of Tim’s favourites, but it wasn’t uncommon for Damian to take it.

It was when Damian’s tracker hit the farthest point of the route, at an old canning factory where a residential neighbourhood hit industrial, where things got interesting. Jason didn’t have any way to know what was going on because Damian hadn’t activated his mask cameras but from what he could deduce from the tracker staying fairly stationary, at least in the same building, for over an hour of time was that this is where whatever it was had gone down. He pulled up the health monitors, synced up the timeline and noticed that that Damian’s heart rate had risen, obviously showing that a fight had gone down, but then the heart rate had stayed high for far longer than it normally did and his respiration and cortisol readings were off the charts. Jason huffed in irritation because this was something that should have set off alarms in the cave, alerting someone that Damian was in trouble but it clearly hadn’t.

It was then that he noticed that the alarms had gone off and that Damian had used his comm to assure Alfred that he was fine and just winded after a hit to the chest. Alfred’s notes in the system had then had even said that Damian was going to go to Jason’s place instead of back to the manor to ‘take refuge from the storm’ and signed off.

It was smart and stupid and sneaky rolled up into a mess. He really should have told Alfred what had happened then and there, but he had clearly panicked instead and this is where they were now.

In the end, whatever had happened in the warehouse had been an accident and in self defense and the other person involved hadn't been an innocent bystander because Damian's reaction would have been much more extreme. It didn't make it better, but it could have been far worse. What he had to focus on was what to do about it now.

He wanted to trust Damian on the evidence situation, he really did, but the kid was rattled and not thinking straight and Jason couldn’t just leave it to chance. He couldn’t call Dick or Tim or Bruce. Not yet. What he needed was someone who could separate emotions in the moment see the bigger picture and help fix the problem rather than get upset by what was already done.

He pulled out his phone and called Barbara.

“Jason.”

“Red.” The kettle started to whistle on the stove and Jason stood up to remove it from the heat, pouring the water into the pot to steep. “I need a no questions asked kind of favour.”

“Why is that?” He could hear a something on in the background, some sort of sitcom based on the laugh track, and he could almost picture her curled up in her apartment because the two of them were the only ones with enough sense not to go out on a night like tonight unless absolutely necessary.

“You are doing terribly at this no questions asked thing,” he said, and she chuckled in response. “Please, Barbara? You know I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important. I need some old school Oracle magic.”

“Jason…”

“Help me, Barbie-wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” He could keep this light and fun, he could try and convince her that nothing was wrong and everything was fine. He could do this.

“You’re big nerd.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Touché.” There was some tapping on the other end of the phone and he knew that she was on board. “What do you need?”

“Old warehouse on Vanderlei and Fifth. The cannery. I need to know if there is any evidence of something going on there tonight. Anything… messy.”

The tapping stopped and there was a pause and he knew that he had said too much to just slip by Barbara like that. “What did you do?”

“No. Questions. Asked, BG. And nothing. I’ve been a good boy and stayed in all night reading a book about evolutional linguistics for fun because, like you said, I’m a big nerd.” She was completely going to figure out what had happened.

The tapping started up again and within moments, Barbara hummed in the way that Jason already knew meant that she couldn’t tell him what he needed to know. “There’s no cameras there and all of the drones are assigned to other things tonight that I can’t redirect.” There was silence between them, Jason trying to think of what to do next when Barbara continued. “Would it be okay if I send Canary to check it out? She’s in the area on a stakeout that is about to wrap up.”

Jason considered his choices. He trusted Dinah and she wouldn’t ask a lot of questions about it, especially if the request came from Barbara, and it was a better option than doing nothing or leaving Damian in the apartment alone for him to go check it out by himself. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough until tomorrow. “That’s fine.”

“I can see that Robin’s tracker was there for quite a long time earlier tonight,” Barbara commented flatly and Jason was about to remind her again about what kind of favour this was when she cut him off at the bit. “That was an observation, not a question.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And Jason?” Jason raised an eyebrow, forgetting that she couldn’t see him but it didn’t seem to matter because she probably already knew. “There seems to be something wrong with the trackers tonight and there is some glitching happening. I may have to scrub the system to reboot them properly. Some data might be lost.”

There was no way that she'd permanently delete it. She was simply buying him some time to get everything in line. It was her way of saying ‘I’m trusting you to look after this’ and Jason had no way to repay her for it, but he’d try to think of something. “Night, Red.”

Jason was pouring the tea when Damian shuffled into the room and sat down at the counter, too big hoodie hanging past his hands and fluffy purple socks on his feet, making him look a lot younger than he already was. It wasn’t the shirt that Jason had taken out for him but he recognized it as one of Dick’s, which meant that Damian had gone hunting for it on purpose instead of putting on his own.

He understood Damian’s hesitation to go to Dick with this, but having Dick around would have been useful right now, as someone who knew the kid better or just as someone who was better in general at the whole comforting people thing than he was. Did Damian need to talk about it or did he want to ignore it? How much did Jason need to know? The who or why or how? Or did it matter?

“It’s peppermint oolong,” said Jason, immediately feeling stupid for not having anything better to say or any way to make any of this better.

“Smells good.” Damian took a sip and winced as he swallowed, the bruising around his throat and the unspoken strong choking that must have accompanied it for the bruises to be appearing so fast must have made it hurt to swallow, but he said nothing so Jason let it go. He was sure that there was more bruising and pain that Damian was hiding, but Jason was trusting him to manage it on his own or tell him if he needed medical attention. Minor physical damage was unimportant tonight.

As far as his brothers went, Damian was the one that Jason knew the least. He knew his background of course, and basic things like that he liked animals and that he was a talented artist, but there was so much that he didn’t know about Damian as a person and it left him a little bit in the dark about how to make him feel a little more at ease.

In the end, he decided that the best person that Jason could pretend to treat him like in this situation was Jason himself. He wouldn’t want to talk about it, at least not now. He’d want to process with a mild distraction in the background and just be by himself for a while, whether it be alone or not. He would want to feel quiet and safe and secure. He would want time to just be.

These were all things that he could do.

They each finished their cup of tea at the same time, Jason deposited both mugs in the sink and nodded towards the living room. “Come on, squirt.”

Jason walked slowly with Damian following closely behind, grabbed the remote, starting up episodes of Planet Earth and turned the volume down low. Damian settled down onto the couch, head on the pillows at one end and curling his body out so that his feet were just over half way across the middle and Jason draped a thick blanket over top of him before sitting at the other end. Damian’s socked feet dug into his leg and he could feel the cold from them seeping through despite the overly fluffy socks and hot shower, and he found himself tucking the blanket around them tighter, trying to keep the warmth wrapped around the younger boy. Damian’s attention turned to the TV, and Jason picked his book that he had abandoned earlier that night off the coffee table and picked up where he had left off, losing himself in The Unfolding of Language all over again.

Twenty minutes in, his phone vibrated with a text, but it turned out not to be from Barbara but from Dinah herself.

Queen Canary: O sent me to an abandoned warehouse that looked like it hadn’t been touched for months for absolutely no reason when I could have been home in my PJs and not freezing my ass off after the stakeout that would never end. I cussed her out but she said it’s your fault, so fuck you. You owe me a beer.

Jason sent back a thumbs up emoji and let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realise that he had been holding in, and his hand was trembling as he put his phone back on the table. Owing Dinah a beer was a very small price to pay for what she had done for them, whether she knew it or not.

An episode and a half passed with just the background noise of the program before Damian shifted around and flopped down again, this time the other way around and using Jason’s thigh as a pillow, curling the blanket around him tighter. Jason set his book aside and watched the boy who was keeping his focus on the TV, but looking distracted and probably not paying a lot of attention to whatever David Attenborough was talking about on screen. Jason reached down and carefully carded his fingers through Damian’s soft hair, and watched as a single tear slide down his cheek, quickly followed by another and then some more, but neither of them said anything about it. Jason had always loved the feeling of hands in his hair, remembering when his mom did it when he was sick as a kid, and how Bruce had done it after Jason had woken up with nightmares or had been injured or sometimes just because, and it appeared that Damian felt the same way.

It made him curious is Talia had ever done this for Damian when he had been a child. He hoped so.

Thirty minutes later when the episode ended and blackness took over the screen with just a prompt to click on the next episode left, Damian spoke up. “I have to tell Father.” Not a question, just the acceptance of reality. He was quiet but resigned, tear stains on his cheek not leading to a crack in his voice. He was calmer than before, more relaxed after being given the time to decompress.

And maybe having a good cry helped a little bit.

“You do, but not tonight. Tonight you are going to stay here and watch nature documentaries and then in the morning I’ll make you breakfast before you head home.” He paused his fingers and Damian let out a barely audible whine at the lack of motion, so Jason started up again and Damian cuddled in further. “I can come with you if you want. Be there when you tell Bruce.” He was a good kid. Bruce was going to see that; his firm no kill rule had unspoken leniency for accidents which this clearly was. Jason knew that everything was going to work out fine and he was sure that deep down inside, Damian was sure of it too. That didn’t mean that it was any less scary, to tell someone of your mistakes and know that you disappointed them. The undercurrent of anxiety would never leave when it came to something like this.

Jason felt the small head nod against him. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Want to keep going? The next episode has giant salamanders.”

Damian made a noise of assent, and Jason started it up again, this time choosing to watch instead of ignore it for his book. Waves crashed on the screen and Damian turned his head to look at Jason, locking his eyes on him, full of determination. “I hope you know that you are as well. What you said earlier. We are both more than just this one thing, brother.”

Hearing his own words back at him and the way that Damian had lumped the two of them into the same category made Jason’s heart soar in an unexpected way. It felt so good to know that he had been able to help in a way that was unrelated to his size and his violence. Maybe he had been the right person for Damian to come to with this. “That we are, Kid.”

#jason todd #damian wayne #batfic #sometimes accidents happen #tw: death

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goddessofeternity · 3 years

Text

Vixen of the Nile

Chapter 3: Failure to Succeed

The last thing I expected when I woke up the next morning was being summoned by my father. Usually when we had a harsh argument like that, we didn’t speak to each other for a few weeks, hell we barely were in the same room. I had my arms crossed and was looking out the window as I sat in front of his desk. He didn’t even glance at me when I entered so I wouldn’t look at him either, the view outside was much nicer. The servants had cleaned the body up so well that you couldn’t even tell there was one. I snuck Khepri out earlier into the morning and had her escorted home, she fused over me but I assured her I was fine. She always seemed to have a sixth sense when something was wrong with me. I shuffled in my seat because the other occupant of the room was making me uncomfortable.

My mother was lounging on the other side of the room lazily eating some grapes. Her handmaiden was filling her glass of wine every time she took a sip. It was way too early for her to be drinking. I could tell she was already becoming drunk because when she talked with her maid her speech was getting slurred. Her eyes were glaring daggers deep into the side of my face, and if he didn’t say anything I would just leave. A servant brought me a glass of water and he finally spoke up.

“Go and retrieve a stolen artifact for me.” He demanded not even looking at me. I turned and rolled my eyes at him. His eyes glanced at my mother and he frowned before he looked at me. I guess he wasn’t gonna speak about the assassin last night.

Bastard.

“Where is this great and amazing treasure at? I want to make this quick, time away from you is the greatest reprieve I can ever imagine.” I leaned back in my seat and crossed my legs as I glared him down. He growled low in his throat as he tossed a map at me. I snatched it out the air and refused to look at it. “What the hell is it?”

“An ankh...it was a gift for your mother. A thief must have taken it when I was not at the palace.” We glanced at her as she scoffed and continued eating her grapes. “This is also a test so don’t you dare fail girl.”

“Whatever…” I stood up and headed to the door, but the words of my mother stopped me in my tracks.

“Bring it back in one piece. It had better be nice and shiny too. I’d rather not have your filth all over my beautiful ankh. My king I have no idea why you sent this stupid child to do anything. All she does is get blood everywhere and sleep around like some whore with these disgusting humans….”

“You deserve to have your treasure back my queen, besides the longer she’s out of sight the happier I know it makes us both.”

I was glad that my back was towards them both, I clenched the door handle hard before I sailed through it in a hurry. I wiped the frustrated tears from my eyes as I went to my room. I grabbed a small bag quickly and shoved some medicines into it. My servants brought me several waterskins filled with water. I sighed as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and got dressed. Aisha ran through my discarded clothes and the sight brought a small smile to my face, Nub was lounging in the sun, but he moved and Aisha ran over to fight his tail. I deeply exhaled as I prayed to Lady Bastet to watch over them both and Lord Ra to give me strength. I went through the back of the palace because I was far from ready to face the people. I grabbed one of our royal camels and climbed up onto it. Maybe this little excursion would be good for me, it had been a while since I last left the kingdoms limits. It was a good thing the heat never bothered me.

“Thanks for that Lord Ra.” I smiled as I shielded my eyes as I glanced at the sun. It was windy and I pulled my cloak over me. The last thing I wanted was sand in my eyes, I glanced at the map and sucked my teeth. Thinking about it...how did my father know where the person was? The old man was becoming a lazy bastard...he could have just finished this himself. He always went the extra mile to be an annoyance in my life. I did want to do this for my mother...I know that it wouldn’t change things, but a part of me hoped it would.

I drank my water as I continued my silent journey, only the sound of the desert sands and my camels breathing keeping me company. It seemed that the thief or whatever had settled at some canyon south of the kingdom. It would probably be a few more hours before I arrived there, but camels were sturdy creatures. I wonder where my wolf friend disappears too after I’ve fallen asleep. He was a curious creature, maybe I’d ask my brother about him. Anubis always told me anything I wanted to know.

Night soon fell before long and I pulled my wool coat out of my travel bag. I kinda wished I was blessed with an immunity to the cold as well. I didn’t dwell on it too much, can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My mind drifted to my mother and my heart sank deep into my chest. I was only a nuisance in her eyes. A stupid whore to be exact and I honestly started to believe that. Perhaps I was some sort of hell spawn. The way I killed people would surely make it seem that way. I couldn’t help that side of me even if I tried. A part of me hoped that this would please her, that maybe I could at least get a smile. If I did it would make everything worth it. Seeing a structure in the distance, I kicked my camel forward and he barreled quickly towards it. I almost fell off as he stopped abruptly. I hopped off and tried to calm him down as he panicked.

“Hey shhh...what’s wrong? It’s ok sweet boy...shhh…” I finally managed to calm him down and left him tied to a column that had fallen over. The building was long since abandoned and I couldn’t imagine this thief was still hanging around. I wish I had my axe instead of the daggers I had been dragging around the last few months. My father had it destroyed after I threw it at his head in an argument. It was his own fault, my poor axe didn’t deserve to be obliterated. I stepped into the building and lit a torch. I don’t imagine whoever was here was awake. I’ll slit their throat and keep on pushing forward.

The wind blew hard and I felt goosebumps travel up my arms. Rubbing my hands together I headed up a set of stairs. I looked over the railing as I heard a faint sound further up. Keeping my hand on my dagger, I slowly ascended the stairs. It would seem that someone was here. Reaching the next floor, I wielded my dagger tightly in my hand. Rushing forward with my dagger ready, I was disappointed to find the room empty. I sighed and lowered it and looped it back on my belt as I walked further into the room. I kicked around some blankets and scraps of food and knelt to see if they might have been dumb an left the ankh.

“This is such a waste of time...there probably isn’t even-ahhh!” I jumped up as a rat ran past me. “Gods...this whole trip is stupid. No one is even here.” Brushing my bangs over my ear, I turned around just as the breath in my body was taken from me. A hand tightened around my throat and held me into the air. I couldn’t see the face over the dark almost shadowy hood over his face. I knew it was a guy because I was used to men choking the life out of me.

Mostly my father when he was pissed off.

“You should have taken the offer.” It was then that I felt sharp nails dig into my neck and I growled as I kicked him hard in the nose. He didn’t even flinch but, I kept kicking as I tried to pry his hands off my neck while I was still conscious. He finally seemed annoyed by my attempts because he grabbed my leg and slammed me against the ground. I choked out a pained gasp as I started seeing stars. I didn’t have time to be dazed as I moved back away from him. I could see him smile behind the hood and it made me sick.

“W-Who the fuck...are y-you talking about?”

“It really doesn’t matter now girl. My master says I can rough you up as much as I want. Let’s see if you can stay on your toes!” I gasped as he moved so fast I almost didn’t move out of the way in time. A large hammer I didn’t realize he was holding slammed into the space I was just at. I got back up and faced him with my daggers drawn and he laughed at me.

“That’s all you’ve got? My master would be disappointed…”

“Your master can kiss my fine ass!” I roared at him as I rushed him with a flurry of strikes and slashes. He blocked them all with ease so I switched up and went for lower blows. It was good that I kept up my martial arts and not just my weapon play. I slammed my heel into the side of his face and as he was knocked back, I aimed for his neck with my dagger but he caught my wrist. Not wanting to lose my momentum, I slammed the other into his collarbone. He hissed in anger and pain before he pulled me close to slam his head against mine. Still gripping my wrist he threw me against the wall. I wiped some blood from my lip and he chuckled and removed his hood.

He looked like a regular guy, but the only difference that he had one horn protruding from his head and the other was broken. His eyes were pitch black and it was a bit unnerving. I didn’t let it deter me as we circled each other. “Why don’t you just give me what I want? Give me back the ankh that you stole, asshole, and maybe I’ll only cut off one ball!”

“An ankh? What the hell would I need with that?” His chuckle and the shaking of his head told me a story I almost couldn’t believe. Did my father send me here on a pointless mission? This guy seemed ready to kill me or take me away somewhere at least. What was my father doing?

Hearing enough of his pointless prattle, we both charged at the other. He swung at my midsection and I dodged back but he was relentless. He kept swinging at me, breaking things in the room as he tried to hit me. When he swung for my head, I ducked under and flipped my dagger up and sliced him across his cheek. I took my other blade and stabbed him deep into his side. I really rammed it into him as he dropped his hammer. I kicked him away from me as he shook and finally succumbed to his wounds. I let out a deep frustrated breath as I cleaned my blades off.

“Now...time to curse my father out..” I was gonna have bruises around my neck for a while. I really need to get laid after this. Just as I was heading out, a noise behind me made me turn. To my disbelief the man had gotten back up. He seemed to be quicker too because I didn’t dodge in time and his hammer caught me in my abdomen. The force sent me over the railings of the stairs and down to the first floor. Searing pain coursed through my body as I landed on an exposed wooden beam. I gasped in pain as my mind grew fuzzy as I saw it sticking out my side. I don’t think it hit anything major, but it hurt like fucking hell. He jumped down and landed perfectly on his feet. His wounds were perfectly healed and I took out my dagger because I was going out swinging.

“Pretty girl like you should just quit while you’re ahead. Now you’re all broken and bloody. Pretty sure your leg is done for.”

“Fuck you bitch!” That would explain the unbearable pain in my left leg. I would not die here and that was a fucking promise. He stormed over and kicked my broken leg and I screamed in pain. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry, tears would just egg this guy on. I still cried out anyway as he yanked me off the wooden beam. I moaned out in pain as I started to feel faint. He slapped my face lightly and I retaliated by biting his finger off. I spit it back in his face as he roared out, he slammed me on the ground and stepped on my back.

“I think I’m gonna hurt you more than a little now.” He didn’t say another word as he kicked me hard enough that I heard something crack. The rolling didn’t help and my leg was burning the whole time. I grabbed the wall and pulled myself up to balance on my good leg. He scoffed as he swung his hammer at my head. I threw my dagger and it caught him in his neck, and he pulled it out without a thought. Blood pooled down his neck and he sighed as he looked me over. It was getting so hard to breathe and focus.

“You are such an annoyance Nerissa. I don’t see what anyone sees in you. A pathetic, weak, pitiful insignificant little girl. It’s no wonder your own mother doesn’t love you.”

“Shut up…”

“An adopted child of the great Set and Nephthys. Little sister to Anubis the lord of the dead. No blood relation at all. You have no right to live amongst the gods. You should be at their feet, oh wait you already are.” “I said shut up!” I screamed in a primal rage as I hopped over to him and swung my dagger wildly. I never should have let him get to me but I did. His words ignited the sad child inside that I really was. He watched me struggle amused as he blocked my strikes. Having enough, he hit my broken leg with the hammer and I crumbled to the ground in agony. Not giving up, when stood over me, I stabbed him in his foot.

Pulling it out quickly, I sliced the tendon in his ankle and he dropped to his knees and punched me in the face. Fueled by adrenaline, I struck him back just as hard. I grabbed my dagger but he snatched it from me and stabbed me in my stomach. I dug my nails into his eye sockets as he twisted the knife. I dug deeper until I grabbed hold of one and tore it out. He backhanded me but punched him square in the nose. His blood poured over me as I leaned forward to bite a chunk out of his neck. He grabbed my horn and slammed my head against the ground a few times before he stood up. He slammed his boot down onto my injured leg and I screamed in pain. I whimpered out as he stood over me, dark magic started to form in his hand.

“I’ve had enough of you…” I could hear a storm suddenly flare up outside, and I couldn’t help but think it might have been my father. He had come to rescue me from this man. This was some test that had gone wrong. He wouldn’t let someone just kill me.

Would he?

My body ached so much and I felt like I was slipping away. He chuckled over me and just as I was fading out a shadow over took us both. I slowly looked up in surprise as my wolf friend was at the door. He was snarling angrily as he stalked into the room. My eyelids were getting heavy as I tried to make him go away.

“What the hell are you doing here Nim?!”

Nim? Was that his name? I coughed out blood and the only thing I heard before losing consciousness was the brutal sounds of tearing flesh and intense fighting.

~~~

“Father why the hell would you do this to her?!” Do you know how hard it was to get him to leave?!”

“That useless girl…”

“Why the fuck are you mad at her?! My sister almost died! You and mother didn’t even bat an eye when she was brought back on the brink of death!”

“She’ll be in Duat...so what if she goes.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! What have you two been putting my sister through?!”

“......”

~~~

I wish what I heard was a dream so badly, but that was just wishful thinking on my part. It seemed my brother was having a screaming match with our father. It was a fruitless endeavor though and I didn’t want him involved. I’d rather my father direct his anger towards his spare child. My body ached as I tried to sink into my comfortable bed and breathe slower. A storm was still raging outside. I looked around for Nub and Aisha and I prayed that my father hadn’t touched them. I had to ask him about that man when I felt a bit better. My leg was still fucked up but all in all I felt a bit better.

I looked out the window and was surprised that it was still dark. I felt as if I had been there forever with that guy. My door suddenly flying over my head and over my balcony made me turn over in surprise. My father flew into the room and threw me to the floor. I gasped out in pain and held my stomach. I barely had time to sit up as he kicked me in my stomach so hard, I threw up. I coughed as the bile burned the back of my throat.

“What the hell...is the matter with-”

“Silence you little bitch!” He backhanded me and grabbed me by my hair so he could glare at me. “You always ruin everything!” He tossed me across the room and I hit the end of my bed. My wounds were starting to open and I tried to press down tightly against it.

“What did I...do?” I sat up and leaned against the end of my bed. “I went on your bullshit mission...just to almost be killed!” “Because you are weak!” I dove to the ground as his magic infused fist made contact with my bed, sending chucks of wood everywhere. “A weak and stupid child!” He stood over me and kicked me over and over again. I tried to move away from him but he grabbed my long hair and yanked me back. I tried to kick him with my good leg, but he decided stomping on my bad one was the best approach. I cried out as I held my leg and he let go of my hair. I whimpered as I leaned my face on the floor. “You have been a thorn in my side since you could fucking talk. I should have had your tongue cut out a long time ago! I thought I was given a powerful child, but no! I was cursed with you!” His foot connected with my injured stomach again and I coughed out blood this time.

“Stop it…”

“Shut up little girl! I should have never taken you in, but I did! You were supposed to be my golden ticket to status and power! All I’ve received for it is a smart mouthed bitch of a child! You are nothing but a whore!”

“I...I’m not…”

“Oh?! Now you want to deny it?! Filthy little bitch!” I balled my fist up as his foot dug into my back. “I should have thrown you to the unforgiving desert. You were supposed to fight back!”

He grabbed my hair and lifted me off the floor and threw against my balcony. He was probably gonna throw me over it. His magic swirled in his hand and I could feel his grasp on my injuries. It had been a long time since I had made him this mad. His words hurt me more than the physical pain...they always did. The physical pain was like a prick on the finger, while the verbal and emotional were like a thousand knives to my heart. I never wanted him to see me cry, but the tears spilled nonetheless. I sniffled and buried my face in my hands and I curled up on the floor. I was tired...I was so tired of it all. I didn’t want this pain anymore, but I knew this was only the beginning.

“F-Father...please stop. I’m sorry.” I looked up at him through my tears. “S-Stop h-hitting me and h-hurting me…” Crying hurt me too, my hiccups and whimpers made me hold my chest in pain. “F-Forgive me..”

“There she is. There is the real Nerissa...so weak and little.” He moved forward and I recoiled from him as he stopped in front of me. “Always putting up the tough front. Always pretending that nothing fazes you. My fragile child acting as if she has the freedom to do as she pleases. I own you. You are my property. My toy. I will do with you what I see fit. I’ll have to break you harder.”

“No...please...I-I’ll do better.” He grabbed my throat and his eyes took on an eerie glow.

“No...you have to be taught a lesson. Now that that dog knows you have put me in a dangerous situation. I will face repercussions and as such...so shall you.”

I cried as he let my throat go instead pulling my hair and dragging me kicking and screaming from my bedroom. It was then that I was forced down the a road of torture.

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

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Previous: https://goddessofeternity.tumblr.com/post/643977170605260800/vixen-of-the-nile

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#writing #original story #Nerissa #Set #Nephthys #Nim #my writing #original work #original concept

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blahblahwritings · 4 years

Text

Contracts and Captains. I.

A/N: Well, I’ve found it only takes a pandemic and a lockdown to get me to write again. I’ve started watching Black Sails and I love it I’m almost on season three. I can’t find many flint x reader fics so I’ll do it myself. I have far too much work to do for University but heres the first chapter of a possible longer fic I want to work on. Knowing me and my unreliable updates lets see how this goes. lmao.

Words: 1818.

Warnings: Blood, Violence. Probably will have smut in later chapters I’m thirsty. Also I’m going for a Flint fic I don’t know how it will end up. Might end up with a Billy fic who knows tbh.

Nassau, 1715.

The caribbean sun beating down was perishing. The bustling crowds filtering through the streets left little reprieve from the heat and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. Humid air filled your struggling lungs, leaving you almost suffocated as you trudged through the side passage of a building. Shade gave you a moment to rest, back leaning against the cool brick, panting. This would have been like any other day you’d had in Nassau, the heat, the crowds, the humidity, but, that wasn’t the only reason you were gasping for breath, sweating or stumbling.

Under your jacket, a pool of deep red was quickly flooding the loose shirt you wore. A white hot pain sliced through the right side of your abdomen, far hotter than the sun. It was the result of a contract gone wrong. A long wheeze escaped your lungs as you pushed off from the wall. You had to keep going. You had to get to Eleanor Guthrie.

Your vision was blurring, the loss of blood taking its toll as every step made the idea of passing out more agreeable. A low growl of frustration left you as you fell against a stack of wooden boxes, the clatter turning more heads than you’d like. So close to the tavern, if your senses had been in order, you’d have smelled the stench of ale and rum, heard the laughter of patrons. All you felt was the throbbing in your side, you smelled the coppery tinge of blood and heard the rushing of what little blood was probably left in your ears. Your chest shook with staggered breathing, your stare stuck on a spot in front of you, your legs outstretched as a hand clutched your wound. A pathetic sight. Weak. That voice in your head spat insults at you. How could you die like this, in a heap in an alley outside a tavern, a stab wound from a simple contract.

You took in a laboured breath, and, with every last drop of energy, you pulled yourself to your feet. You crashed through the wooden doors of the building, gripping to anything to keep you upright. The laughter trailed off, the music came to a halt, all eyes were on you. Lifting your head, you found the stare of none other than Eleanor Guthrie as she rushed over to you. A wry smile made its way to your face as she reached you.

“Ma’am” You spluttered before collapsing, unconscious before you’d even collided with the hard floor.

---

The vague memory of a dream was washed away by the screeching sound of gulls and a layer of sweat coating your body as a white room came into view. The sunlight streaming in from the open windows caused an instant ache behind your eyes. Groaning, you tried to turn away when a sharp pain shot through your torso. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you returned to the position your back. A light sheet covered you from the chest down, your shirt nowhere to be found. Your pants, however, remained. Turning your head, you found a new shirt, clean and folded neatly on a chair next to the bed alongside your boots. Throwing the sheet aside, you examined your abdomen, finding it wrapped in a bandage, a small red stain peeking through. Slowly, you sat up, moving so your feet were on the floor and reached to grab the shirt, pulling it over your head.

A note floated down, landing beside your boots. Your brow twitched into confusion before righting itself. Bending forwards, your breath hitched as the stabbing pain worsened for a moment before dulling to a throb. Grasping the note, you began to read.

‘Miss Devereux,

Miss Guthrie would like to speak with you at once. Please make your way to her office as soon as you wake.

Mr Scott.’

An exhaustive sigh left you. This won’t be good. Putting your boots on and standing, you wondered how long you had been unconscious. Your wound had been cleaned and bandaged but the rest of you was still covered in old dirt and sweat. You looked at the basin by the window, contemplating at least getting the worst of it off. Fuck it. You thought as you moved towards the door, if she wants to see me at once she will.

You approached the closed door to her office, one of Hornigold’s men standing guard. He gave you a pitiful look.

“Is she that bad?” You asked, voice low. His lips pulled into a thin line as his eyes moved to yours for a moment before returning to the drunks below. Taking a deep breath you opened the door, not even bothering to knock.

A man in a long black coat, jaw-length brown hair and a red beard sat at the desk opposite Eleanor. Her eyes found yours and suddenly turned very dark. He turned to look at you, eyes scanning you in curiosity. “You wanted to see me, ma’am.” You stated, eyes never leaving hers.

“Captain Flint, I must speak with Miss Devereux, would you give us the room?” Her voice was short, she was pissed. Glancing between the two of you, the captain stood, moving past you.

“Good day, miss Guthrie, miss.. Devereux.” He nodded before disappearing completely. The door shut behind you leaving you to likely be torn limb from limb by the woman still standing across the desk. You had your reasons to be angry too. Silence. Only her heavy breathing could be heard. You opened your mouth to speak when she beat you to it.

“What the fuck happened?” She spat. You scoffed.

“Why, miss Guthrie I’m very well despite being stabbed by the madman you had me track down and watch, thank you for asking.” You snarled stepping toward her.

“Don’t give me that. What. Happened.”

“Well if you really want to know, I was tailing him perfectly fine, I found out what you needed and probably would have even gotten more for you had you told me he was going to be guarded by a group of degenerates. They tipped him off to me following him and I lost him before we got to the beach, I was dragged off by his dogs and ended up having to take most of them down and then he came back, asking why I was watching him and who I worked for. When I didn’t say anything, he took a swing. You know the rest.” You explained with a sneer, plonking yourself into the chair in front of her desk with only a slight wince.

“What a royal fuck up. Now he knows someone is after his plans, do you know the repercussions this could have on me? On us?” She bent over the table, sinking to your level.

“Oh so it’s ‘us’ now is it? I thought I was just a means to an end, last we spoke. Nothing more than a set of skills for hire.” You growled. She pulled back and turned to look out the window.

“You are a valuable asset to this place, to me. You care about the future of this place as much as I do, as does Captain Flint.” She trailed off. A sigh. “Tell me what you found.” She finished, turning back, more composed than before, sitting in her chair.

---

After the little chat with Eleanor, she saw to it you were given a bath and a new bandage, returning your sword, daggers and throwing knives as well as your coat, clean. She told you if she needed you, she would send for you and so, after getting cleaned up, you left.

You’d found a place to eat, sitting at a bench outside, a mystery stew and some bread in front of you. You were half way through your meal when you felt like you were being watched. Three men approached the table you were at, sitting one beside you and two in front of you.

“Gentlemen, Stew?” You offered, knowing full well they weren’t here for polite conversation. The man next to you was wider than he was tall, built like stone with tattoos down the side of his face and neck. Opposite was a tall man, arms like tree trunks and a rather large dagger placed in front of him, a warning or a promise you weren’t entirely sure. Finally, next to him, was a darker skinned man, peering at you like you were his next meal. Clearing your throat, you stood carefully, looking at all three with a small smile on your face. “I feel rather unwelcome here, may I ask what this is about?” No answer. “Right, well, I suppose I’ll be off then, it is quite late after all, goodnight.”

You turned, stepping over the bench you were sat on when a hand gripped your wrist pulling you back. In retaliation you flipped the hot stew at the larger one's face, causing him to cry out, then, all hell broke loose. Punches were thrown left and right, your knife wound causing you to be slower than usual allowing them to land a few good hits. People crowded around the scene wondering what it was all about. Ducking under one of their punches your fist found its mark, doubling one over as you brought a knee to his face with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor as you whirled around, sweeping the smaller one’s legs out from under him and stamping your boot into his face, knocking him out. The largest of the men towered over you and honestly you weren’t quite sure how you’d be able to escape this one. His fist found your jaw, knocking you to the ground, you were stunned as a ringing filled your ears. He crawled on top of you, pulling his arm back for another strike when something hit him over the head, he looked a little confused before going limp, his full weight landing on you.

You groaned at the sudden pressure on your ribcage, feeling the adrenaline slowly pass and allowing all the pain from the fight to flood into your bones. Someone pulled the giant off you, offering you a hand up. In the dark you couldn’t quite see who it was until they pulled you up. You arched your back, cracking it far more than what was probably healthy and brushing yourself off. You’d need another bath that's for sure.

Looking up, you found the same man Eleanor was speaking with prior to your intrusion.

“Captain James Flint.” He introduced, extending his hand. His face was pulled into a frown and the crowd dissipated. The men on the ground were incapacitated or rolling around in pain as you glanced at them. Tilting your head up to his taller figure, you put your hand in his.

“Miss Elizabeth Devereux”

#black sails #captain flint #Captain James flint #Flint x reader #James Flint #James Flint x Reader #Captain flint x reader #Multi chapter

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