#and having to see over and over again how this Brown woman dying horribly wasn’t on him…

[literaryspinster]

I don’t know who needs to hear this but

Sky dying was Viktor’s fault and him covering it up was bad actually.

#anti viktor arcane #i like him but the way y’all coddle that man is a LOT #arcane #arcane league of legends #sky young #you can tell me something bad that one of my faves did but I already know #it’s HIS fans that seem to think he’s above any criticism #literally no one is #and having to see over and over again how this Brown woman dying horribly wasn’t on him… #it’s white boy stanning at its most insidious #that would be like me saying jayce killing that boy wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t feel bad when it was and he should #they were clear parallels #even happened in the same episode #come on now #sometimes good people do bad things it doesn’t make them irredeemable #but they do need to be held accountable

[biscuitblinkeu]

Settlement Agreement [2]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

……………………………….………………………………

Today is not your lucky day. What were the odds the woman you spilt coffee on earlier was your lawyer? (A beautiful one at that.)

Despite her expressionless face and cold eyes, her aloof demeanor, she was attractive: soft but bold features paired with freckles, model-like body proportions, and long (healthy) blond dyed hair. She wore another Saint Laurent outfit; this time a white-dotted black shirt with a black wool blazer, black shorts with a belt, chains, and tights.

She raises an eyebrow at your lack of response before moving further into the room. She sets her bag down, takes a seat, and pulls out a manila folder.

On the other hand, she didn’t know you were her plaintiff. She admits that her first impression was not good; when your coffee burned through her chest, the look you received back was…something. She tries to control her facial expressions but fails horribly most of the time.

It was indeed her fault for standing so close to you, the matters of that won’t be shared for now, though. Her original motive went out the window when you ruined her coat, touched her, and became a nervous wreck. She doesn’t like people like that, they’re tiring.

She feels like you’ll give her a headache— all her other clients did, she’ll have to look into it, maybe it really is a personal problem of hers. Or, that’s what her boss, Jisoo, says.

After shuffling around her folders some more she looks at you, who’s looking anywhere else, your gaze shys away from hers and you fidget uncomfortably in your chair. She lets a minute tick by, a sick part of her enjoying the way you squirm (like a worm). She taps the desk with a manicured nail twice to get your attention.

“Roseanne Park.” She says simply. Now you can put a name to her face.

Roseanne.

“Right. It’s nice to formally meet you.” You get out, your tongue feeling like lead and eyes finally meeting her brown one’s. You had a feeling she knew your name already.

“Likewise.” She nods curtly. Her voice has a mature drawl to it, almost hypnotic.

She opens the folder and flips through the small stack of papers and places one in front of you, “We can start now on filing the divorce papers— that is why you're here, yes?” And she asks this because some people set up appointments and don’t even know what they want to do, thus wasting her time. You nod and she continues, “You’ll have to fill out more forms due to you having a child, but right now we will do only one: your reasons for divorce. Later you will have to attend parenting sessions farther into this case. I suggest getting them over with because it’s a two month period.”

“Okay. Why do I have to go to parenting sessions? Is it required?”

“Yes, and that’s because they are designed to improve your child’s well-being following the divorce, it changes aspects of the way you parent. Divorce can make or break children in between, so even if you and your spouse are good parents, it’s precautionary.”

You look at the form she gave you, typical government papers, lots of boxes and areas you have to write in or on, reasons for divorce. She handed you a pen in case you wants to fill things in as you were talking.

“I guess I'll start telling you about my marriage and reasons for divorce now,” you take a breath and begin, “this would be my fifth year. I actually got married a couple months before I had my daughter. I just never thought I’d be sitting here, about to file divorce papers…” You trailed off, frowning at the paper. You always thought Jaylyn would be the one to break things off, not you.

“The man that I married wasn’t perfect, but he made me the happiest and made me feel loved unconditionally. Well, that lasted until he started—.” Your fingers grip the pen tightly, you didn’t want Roseanne to see how hard you’re trying to hold yourself together. You set the pen down in defeat and lean back in the chair, closing your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, Roseanne is already staring at you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue. She was used to people breaking down talking about marriage, it was common in her field. Usually they’d cry, but you just seemed disappointed, and maybe a bit angry.

With a deep inhale and exhale you clear your throat again. “He got a new job, having gotten promoted, so he moved his work to another building. I don’t really know, or maybe I’m overreacting, but he changed after that,” you thought out loud.

Jaylyn would always talk about his coworkers, what they did, and said. It seemed like he was getting their habits. He started going to bars a lot more, leaving late in the night. He’d order you around before taking it back as if he’d realized what he did. Jaylyn would always have a reason he couldn’t come to family gatherings or Nala’s activities. He was distant, and at some point he started sleeping on the couch; avoiding your affection.

“He started hanging out with his new friends and I was happy for him, really. His other work place was a crap environment. We both knew what our marriage would be like, us both working. But we still tried to make sure our daughter grew up as happily as possible without either of us not around as much. Then he started missing her school plays and her football(soccer) games, lots of other things too. He comes home at random times without notice, he could be gone for a week and then show up, really.”

Roseanne leans back slightly in her chair, “If he’d been in an affair— not saying he was— or something else, would you report him? I need to know so I can make this go as smoothly as possible, but if you don’t want charges I can do that as well; no fault.”

You frown, almost going to shake your head no, but you stopped. You didn’t know. What if he did? What if— no. “I don’t know... There’s no reason for him to have done anything like that. He said he would never in his vows.” You didn’t sound so sure anymore.

“But I feel like I barely know him these past months, I don’t know what he's been doing either.” Roseanne hummed in response. She would put this on hold now and talk it over with Jennie.

“Any reasons why you know he’s not fighting the divorce?”

“Other than the ‘I want to make you happy’ speech…Well, I did play a part. More times than not, I stop talking about the important things and get caught up in trivial, surface level arguments and conversation that usually just go on till I get tired. Or just sweep it under the rug like the rest. I was that girl that dreamed of marriage, like in Netflix shows or not-so realistic movies. I created a ‘perfect’ vision in my head, didn’t have that, and it was just a lot of mitchmatch expectations— which I’m sure pushed my husband away. I became disappointed, and now I’m here. So, that’s probably one of the reasons.” You spoke guiltily, embarrassed, because partially, this was your fault.

She looked at you for a moment, her lips pursed. She seems to consider something before shuffling around in her folder. You think there must be something in your file that she’s looking for or reading, her fingers drum on the table in quick succession. It’s an unconscious habit of hers when she gets curious, an indication she’s about to…blurt out something.

"Why?" She asks suddenly, surprising you.

"What do you mean 'why' — why what?" You asked dumbly.

She looks at you again.

"Why," she repeated before continuing, "you moved from the United States to the UK, why?”

"I...I'm sorry?” You were thrown off by the random question, even more so when you're being asked to talk about the past. Noticing your reaction and her inappropriate question she recalls, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I said that… Do you have any more questions? I’ve asked all of mine for today.”

“Um… How many times do I have to see you?”

“Four times a month is minimal, but depending on how complex your case is, it would be more. Oh, and don’t disclose anything we talked about to your spouse, expect him to do the same.”

You nodded and she looked at her watch. “I think that’s all for today.” You hummed before getting up. You shook her cool hand and walked to the door, halfway out you turned back to her.

“Thank you, have a good day.”

“Yes. You as well.”

You stepped out, and then it hit you. You had no idea what the way back was. You looked down both hallways, looking for a sign to remind you which way you came from…they looked the same. A familiar feeling started to appear, that worried feeling like when you would get lost in the grocery store because your father wasn’t where he said he’d be. You didn’t like feeling lost.

You felt like an idiot standing outside her door, in the empty hallways. As you were about to suck it up and see if you can find your way back, the door opened a crack and Roseanne’s head popped out. She didn’t look surprised to see you still standing there.

You felt heat crawl up your neck as she continued to stare at you. Casually, she stepped into the hallway and stuffed her hands in her pockets before glancing at you. “My apologies, follow me?” Then she started walking, you stood shocked for a few seconds before catching up and walking a little ways behind her due to her strides being bigger and faster. It was a hassle.

When you made it back to where the front desk was, you thanked her again. “Thank you for walking me back, I’m sure I would’ve gotten lost.”

“You definitely would have,” she replied quickly and you tried not to take her comment in a bad way. You expected a remark to follow that, but no. She looked like she was struggling to get her next words out, and eventually, “…tell me if I’m walking too fast next time.” She turned on her heel and left after that, leaving you no time to respond, but she did get a glimpse of your bright smile mid turn.

Roseanne made it down the hallway and took a left before making sure nobody was around and placed a hand to her chest. Her heart, pounding against her rib cage as if she’d sprinted or climbed up steps, was feeling odd. It was foreign. Her heart rate is usually normal, relaxed, never like this— you’ve done something to her.

Her first instinct was to get back to Jennie, because right now she was the closest. She also should be done with her plaintiff. Roseanne knocked on Jennie’s office door, a few seconds passed and Jennie called for her to enter. No one was in her office besides her, just like she suspected. When she stepped inside the attorney gave her a gummy smile, gesturing to the sofa across from her desk to the side of the wall. Roseanne sat down.

“Rosie! I wasn’t expecting you. Usually you call beforehand— not that I mind, what’s up?”

“Something is wrong with me.”

A/n: I’m sorry for the delay, and how short this chapter is. :(

Would you like to continue? ٩( 'ω' )و

Also, here’s the Pinterest board for this story:

#biscuitblinkeu #fanfic #blackpink x reader #chaeyoung x femreader #chaeyoung x fem!reader #park chaeyoung #Unlawful.Biscuit #rosé x fem!reader #rosé x reader #blackpink rosé

[moonflower1605]

Chapter - 16(Part-1)

(Percy's POV)

The stateroom was beautiful, & horrible.

The beautiful part: Huge windows curved along the back wall, looking out over the stern of the ship. Green sea & blue sky stretched all the way to the horizon. A Persian rug covered the floor. Two plush sofas occupied the middle of the room, with a canopied bed in one corner & a mahogany dining table in the other. The table was loaded with food-pizza boxes, bottles of soda, & a stack of roast beef sandwiches on a silver platter.

The horrible part: On a velvet dais at the back of the room lay a ten-foot-long golden casket. A sarcophagus, engraved with Ancient Greek scenes of cities in flames & heroes dying grisly deaths. Despite the sunlight streaming through the windows, the casket made the whole room feel cold.

“Well,” Luke said, spreading his arms proudly. “A little nicer than Cabin Eleven, huh?”

He’d changed since the last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, & leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

He still had the scar under his eye-a jagged white line from his battle with a dragon. And propped against the sofa was his magical sword, Backbiter, glinting strangely with its half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade that could kill both mortals & monsters.

“Sit,” he told us. He waved his hand & four dining chairs scooted themselves into the center of the room.

None of us sat.

Luke’s large friends were still pointing their javelins at us. They looked like twins, but weren’t human. They stood about eight feet tall, for one thing, & wore only blue jeans, probably because their enormous chests were already shag-carpeted with thick brown fur. They had claws for fingernails, feet like paws. Their noses were snoutlike, & their teeth were all pointed canines.

“Where are my manners?” Luke said smoothly. “These are my assistants, Agrius & Oreius. Perhaps you’ve heard of them.”

I said nothing. Despite the javelins pointed at me, it wasn’t the twins who scared me.

I’d imagined meeting Luke again many times since he’d tried to kill me last summer. I’d pictured myself boldly standing up to him, challenging him to a duel. But now that we were face-to-face, I could barely stop my hands from shaking.

“You know Agrius & Oreius’s story?” Luke asked. “Their mother...well, it’s sad, really. Aphrodite ordered the young woman to fall in love. She refused & ran to Artemis for help. Artemis let her become one of her maiden huntresses, but Aphrodite got her revenge. She bewitched the young woman to fall in love with a bear.

When Artemis found out, she abandoned the girl. Typical of the gods, wouldn’t you say? They fight with one another & the poor humans get caught in the middle. The girl’s twin sons here, Agrius & Oreius, have no love for Olympus. They like half-bloods well enough, though...”

“For lunch,” Agrius growled. His gruff voice was the one I’d heard talking to Luke earlier.

“Hehe! Hehe!” His brother Oreius laughed, licking his furlined lips. He kept laughing like he was having an asthmatic fit until Luke and Agrius both stared at him.

“Shut up, you idiot!” Agrius growled. “Go punish yourself!”

Oreius whimpered. He trudged over to the corner of the room, slumped onto a stool, & banged his forehead against the dining table, making the silver plates rattle.

Luke acted like this was perfectly normal behavior. He made himself comfortable on the sofa & propped his feet on the coffee table. “Well, Percy, we let you survive another year. I hope you appreciated it. How’s your mom? How’s school?”

“You poisoned Thalia’s tree.” I snapped.

Luke sighed. “Right to the point, eh? Okay, sure I poisoned the tree. So what?”

“How could you?” Nora sounded so angry I thought she’d explode. Sparks flew off her & her eyes began to glow “Thalia saved your life! How could you dishonor her-“

“I didn’t dishonor her!” Luke snapped. “The gods dishonored her, Nora! If Thalia were alive, she’d be on my side.”

“Liar!” Nora yelled at him.

“If you knew what was coming, you’d understand-“

“I understand you want to destroy the camp!” Annabeth yelled. “You’re a monster!”

Luke shook his head. “The gods have blinded you. Can’t you imagine a world without them, Annabeth? What good is the ancient history you study? Three thousand years of baggage! The West is rotten to the core. It has to be destroyed. Join me! We can start a new world. We could use your intelligence, Annabeth. And your strength too Nora.”

“Because you have none of your own!”

His eyes narrowed. “I know you, Annabeth. You deserve better than tagging along on some hopeless quest to save the camp. Half-Blood Hill will be overrun by monsters within the month. The heroes who survive will have no choice but to join us or be hunted to extinction. You really want to be on a losing team...with company like this?” Luke pointed at Tyson.

“Hey!” I said.

“Traveling with a Cyclops,” Luke chided. “Talk about dishonoring Thalia’s memory! I’m surprised, Annabeth. You of all people-“

“Shut up Luke!” Nora shouted.

I didn’t know what Luke was talking about, but Annabeth buried her head in her hands like she was about to cry.

“Leave them alone,” I said. “And leave Tyson out this.”

Luke laughed. “Oh, yeah, I heard. Your father claimed him.”

I must have looked surprised, because Luke smiled. “Yes, Percy, I know all about it. And about your plan to find the Fleece. What were those coordinates, again...30, 31, 75, 12? You see, I still have friends at camp who keep me posted.”

“Spies, you mean.”

He shrugged. “How many insults from your father can you stand, Percy? You think he’s grateful? You think Poseidon cares for you more than he cares for this monster?”

Tyson clenched his fists & made a rumbling sound down in his throat.

Luke just chuckled. “The gods are so using you, Percy. Do you have any idea what’s in store for you if you reach your sixteenth birthday? Has Chiron even told you the prophecy?”

I wanted to get in Luke’s face and tell him off, but as usual, he knew just how to throw me off balance. Sixteenth birthday?

I mean, I knew Chiron received a prophecy from the Oracle many years ago. I knew part of it was about me. But, if I reached my sixteenth birthday? I didn’t like the sound of that.

“I know what I need to know,” I managed. “Like, who my enemies are.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

Tyson smashed the nearest dining chair to splinters. “Percy is not a fool!”

Before I could stop him, he charged Luke. His fists came towards Luke’s head-a double overhead blow that would’ve knocked a hole in titanium- but the bear twins intercepted. They each caught one of Tyson’s arms & stopped him cold. They pushed him back & Tyson stumbled. He fell to the carpet so hard the deck shook.

Link to the next chapter is here.

Link to the prev chapter is here.

Comment, like & share.

Take care my lovely readers.❤️

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x oc #x oc #sea of monsters

[imagineaworld]

leather & jeans | b.b

pairing : biker!bucky barnes x reader

summary : you walk into a biker bar to repay a debt for your brother and get more than you bargained for

word count : 1.9k

warnings : 18+ ONLY, smut, swearing, oral (m recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, thigh riding, pet names

You regret offering to help your brother the moment you stepped through the door to the bar.

Loud ruckus all around you sent your heart rate through the roof, and it took everything in you to keep a calm exterior as all eyes fell on you. A momentary silence before the rowdiness resumed.

Walking into the bar owned by the local biker gang was scary enough as it was, let alone being a woman, walking in by yourself, carrying a bag full of cash.

You looked around through the sea of faces, hoping to see someone who looked mildly friendly that you could approach to ask for the man you needed. There seemed no such person. Instead, you opted to head to the bar and ask the bartender for help.

Clutching the bag on your shoulder, you made your way to the bar. On your journey through the leather-clad bodies, you bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” you blurted out, afraid of the consequences.

You looked up at the man you had bumped into. He towered over you, ruggedly handsome with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A black leather jacket coated his muscled body. Your eyes fell upon his left hand, made of metal, glistening in the light of the bar.

“No problem, doll,” the man replied. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this, hm?”

His intense gaze intimidated you, not to mention his beautifully carved face. “I’m looking for Bucky,” you answered, slightly flustered.

“Well,” said the man. “You’re lookin’ at him. What can I do for ya?”

The man did fit the description that your brother had given you. The boss. A ruthless, violent leader. Despite this, you couldn't help but be attracted to him, the danger perhaps adding to your desire.

You'd heard from your brother about all the horrible things this man was capable of, the terrible things he'd done. Danny had told you what happened to people who didn't pay up on time.

“Danny sent me,” you explained. “I have the money.”

He didn't tell you why, but your brother owed money to the leader and was banned from the bar until it had been paid. He sent you in his place, with a shit ton of money you had no idea how he had come to possess. You didn't want to think about it.

How'd a pretty young thing like you know that low-life? Bucky thought. Better yet, what was Danny thinking, sending you to a place like this, full of men ready and willing to take advantage of you.

“Let’s see it.”

You slipped the bag off your shoulder, opened it up and displayed the contents to Bucky. He peered into the bag and assessed the stacks of cash inside.

"This all of it?" He asked, looking back up to you.

You shrugged. "As far as I know."

Your heart was still pounding and an uneasy feeling had settled into your stomach. Something didn't feel right. All around you, watchful eyes fell upon you and the leader. You tried to ignore them, tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

"Come with me."

Closing the bag and slinging it back over your shoulder, you obeyed. Bucky placed a large hand on the small of your back, leading you through the crowd. Men adorned in leather jackets stepped aside, giving respectful nods to Bucky as he passed them.

He led you to a private room that resembled something like an office, though much less professional. Still, a wooden desk and chair gave the impression this was Bucky's office.

"Empty it out onto the table, darlin'," he ordered, finally removing his hand from your lower back. "I need to count it."

With the way he spoke, it was clear he was used to giving orders and having them followed. You dreaded to think about what happened to people who didn't obey him.

You did as you were told, feeling even more unsettled now that you were alone with this man. You stepped away from the money scattered on the desk, putting as much space between yourself and the man.

You watched as Bucky began to count the stacks, organising them into piles as he went. You waited in silence, not daring to interrupt him.

"Well," he spoke after he'd sorted all the stacks into piles. "Looks like it's all here."

"So what now?" You asked. "Is Danny still in trouble?"

Bucky looked at you, his eyes running up and down your body. "How'd you know Danny, sweetheart?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the nickname that rolled off his tongue so easily. "He's my brother."

He started towards you, closing the space you had put between you and him. "Danny never said he had a sister, or that she was so beautiful." Your cheeks heated at the compliment, but dread pooled in your stomach. "What was he thinking, sending a sweet little thing like you into a sinful place like this."

"I offered," you began to explain.

"That was stupid."

He slowly stalked even closer to you, like a predator catching its prey. In a bid to keep a safe distance from him, you backed away. You took a step back for every step he took towards you until your back hit the wall.

Your heart rate sped up as you realised you had backed yourself against the wall. And with Bucky advancing on you,  there was no escape. Calling for help may only cause more problems.

"Don't worry, darlin'," he said darkly. "No need to be afraid. I just wanna teach your brother a lesson."

He had his body pressed up against yours, sandwiching you between him and the wall.

"Leave him alone," you breathed out. "Please."

He whispered in your ear. "Say it again." His breath was hot on your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Please," you whimpered again, ashamed at your arousal beginning to pool in your panties.

Bucky breathed in the sweet scent of your perfume, he could feel your heart thumping against his chest, hear your breath trembling. He couldn't help himself. You were so innocent, so untainted.

"What are you willing to do," he spoke gruffly into your ear, twirling his finger around a lock of your hair. "To make sure nothin' happens to your brother?"

"Anything."

He started slowly kissing behind your ear, trailing down to your neck as his beard scratched your soft skin. "Anything, hm?" He said gruffly. "Cos I've been dying to know what you'd look like with my cock buried in you since you walked through the door."

There was no denying any longer. "Bucky," you panted, desperate for his touch.

"Tell me you want it, baby," he urged, slipping a hand under your shirt. "I'll give it to you."

"Please," you pleaded. "I want it. I want you."

That was all Bucky needed to hear. He crashed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, pulling off his jacket as he did so. You let out a small yelp at the urgency with which he kissed you, his facial hair rough against your face.

He slipped a thick thigh between your legs, causing a moan to escape your lips as his thigh brushed against your pussy through the fabric of your jeans. 

"You like that, hm?" He growled, kissing his way down your neck as goosebumps erupted on your skin.

You managed a breathless 'yes', but Bucky pulled hard on your hair. "Yes, daddy," he corrected.

"Yes, daddy," you repeated and he let go of your hair, satisfied with your submission.

His touch sent shockwaves through your body, and your pussy throbbed, desperate for release. You palmed him through his trousers and he let out a deep groan, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"On your knees," he ordered, removing his leg from between yours.

You obeyed, sliding down the wall to your knees as he unfastened his belt, discarding it on the floor and unzipping his trousers. He pulled out his sizeable cock, already rock hard from your touch.

"Open."

Again, you did as he told you to do, opening your mouth. He pushed his cock to the back of your throat, your eyes filling with tears as he triggered your gag reflex. Your mouth was warm and wet on his dick, and he savoured the feeling.

"Good job sweetheart," he praised. "Taking my cock so well."

Your head was pressed against the wall as he fucked your mouth, holding your hair back with his large hands. When the tears started streaming down your face, he knew you'd had enough.

"Be a good girl," he said, stepping away from you as you tried to catch your breath. "Bend over the desk for me."

You climbed to your feet and did as he asked. Bent over the desk, the used your forearms to prop yourself up slightly, so the hard, cold desk wasn't pressing into you.

"Look at this ass," he worshipped, grabbing a handful causing you to cry out. "All mine."

He yanked your jeans down, exposing your thong underneath. "Such lovely panties, you wear these just for me?"

"Yes, daddy," you mewled.

He pushed your panties aside and slipped a finger into your wet pussy. You moaned out as he curled his finger inside you.

"So wet for me, huh, baby?" He murmured, adding another finger as you clenched around him. "Such a pretty little pussy."

"Please, daddy," you whined. "I need your cock."

He chuckled darkly at your desperation. As he took his fingers out and pulled your thong down, you felt empty. He pressed the head of his cock to your sensitive clit and began lathering up your slick as he teased your entrance.

He pushed into you with a hard thrust and you cried out at the feeling of him stretching your walls. Your eyes rolled back as he started pounding into your pussy, almost feral.

"So fuckin' tight," he growled through gritted teeth as he hammered into you.

Your ecstatic moans could surely be heard by the long-forgotten men in the bar but you didn't care. Bucky, on the other hand, wanted them to hear you, wanted them to hear what he was doing to you. Show them you were his.

"Gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk," he groaned, continuing his assault. "This pussy is mine."

He was true to his word, fucking into you roughly, his large hands gripping your hips and leaving bruises to mark you as his. You were completely at his mercy, though he seemed to have none as he ignored your cries, a mixture of pain and pleasure, at the way he beat your cunt.

You had no idea how long he had been fucking you when he said, "Gonna cum inside that tight little pussy of yours."

His cock twitched inside of you before he stilled, filling you up with hot ropes of cum. He collapsed against you, sticky with sweat and panting for breath.

"You did so good for me," he murmured eventually, slowly pulling out of you and watching his cum drip down your thighs.

He helped get you cleaned up, gently wiping around our abused cunt before pulling your jeans and thong back up. Taking your flushed face in his hands, he placed a gentle kiss on your temple. 

"You know where I am if you need me again."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier smut #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter solider imagine #biker!bucky #bucky barnes au #the winter solder au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

[awindylife-writes]

After the End (Comes the Beginning)

Relationships: 10th Doctor x reader, Donna x reader (platonic), Donna x Doctor (platonic), Rose x reader (mentioned, platonic)

Summary: Christmas bride rewrite. The Doctor and you cope with the loss of Rose and meet Donna.

Warnings: mentions of the loss of Rose

Genre: angst

You lost her.

You lost Rose and she didn't even get to finish her sentence before you and the Doctor were ripped away.

You were standing in the TARDIS with her last words ringing in your ears. You stared at the wall where she'd stood just a second ago. You were sinking to your knees and you didn't even notice with your vision blurred, too many tears to see through.

Too much pain to get up.

A sob interrupted your quiet litany of "Nononononononononono-" and you hadn't even known you were speaking. You tried to catch your breath but you seemed to have forgotten how to take air in. The only thing that existed was the hole in your chest.

Then the Doctor's teary face appeared in your vison. His hands were gripping your arms. He was calling for you.

"Y/N. Y/N. Y/N." There was desparation in his voice and so much grief  in his eyes that it woke you up.

Because he'd lost Rose too. He loved her too, you three had been best friends and after all that he'd lost he must have been breaking. And if there was one thing you wouldn't stand for now, it was leaving him alone.

"I'm here." You wiped your tears with your palms and looked into his deep brown shattered eyes. "I'm here, Doctor, and l'm not leaving." You tried for a smile as you gently took his face in your hands and wiped his tears with your thumb.

When you saw he'd heard you, you pulled him into your arms. You were clinging to each other and you weren't sure if you were ever going to stop. Ever.

Then you heard a gasp and a shocked squeak. You and the Doctor broke apart enough to look at the strange woman who was now standing in TARDIS. You both stood up out of astonishment to see her better.

"What?" you heard the Doctor's incredoulus voice. You simply stared. If you hadn't been desolate, the sight would have been hilarious.

There was a ginger bride standing in the TARDIS asking, "Who are you?" and there was no clue to explain how she got there.

You found yourself smiling.

"What?" the Doctor breathed again. You thought you might start laughing but then you looked at him. He still had teartracks on his face.

The reality came back like a slap.

"Who are you?" she demanded, and you just

stared.

"What?" The Doctor seemed to be caught in a loop so you stepped towards her.

"Hi. My name's Y/N and this is the Doctor. You're standing in the TARDIS."

"You can't do that l wasn't- we're in flight that is- that is physically imposible how did you-" the Doctor was rambling away but the ginger cut him off.

"Tell me where l am," she told you with force. "I demand you tell me RIGHT NOW where am l?"

"Inside the TARDIS," you repeated and she focused on you.

"The what."

"The TARDIS."

"The what?"

"The TARDIS."

"The what???"

"It's called the TARDIS," the Doctor finally joined in.

"That's not even a proper word!"

~

When the Doctor went to get money from the ATM, you went with him. You'd have stayed with Donna before, before, but not now. You were not letting him out of your sight. Judging by the panicked look in his eyes when he checked if you were following him he felt the same.

~

You turned him away from the partying crowd, towards the bar. You'd recognized the look in his eyes as he watched the dancing couples, it mirrored how you felt inside.

You hugged him close and he buried his face into your shoulder.

Then you noticed the cameraman.

~

You screamed at Lance when he said those horrible things about Donna. You made sure she knew she isn't alone. You held her hand.

Then when she was crying in the TARDIS and the Doctor didn't notice, you held her.

~

When the empress of the Racknoss screamed, you got lost. She screamed in grief, and there was just as much of it in you.

Donna pulled you out of it.

There would be enough time to grieve when this was over, and then you would never get lost again.

~

"I'll just, go out there and do something," Donna finished with a smile. You exchanged looks with the Doctor.

"Well, you could always..." he began.

"What?"

"Come with us." You stepped towards her. There was so much hope in you but you tried to keep it at bay. You didn't think you could take much more hurt today.

"No," Donna said in a soft voice. Well, so much for that.

"Okay," the Doctor reacted immediately.

"I can't," Donna told you sadly.

"No, that's fine!"

"No but really though, I mean everything we did today- Do you live your life like that?"

"Not all the time," you tried, but you knew it was no use. It wasn't true.

"I think you do. And I couldn't," Donna shook her head.

"But you've seen it out there," you tried. "It's beautiful."

"And it's terrible. That place was flooding and bruning and they were dying and he stood there like-" Donna turned to the Doctor. "I don't know. A stranger."

"And then you made it snow, I mean you scare me to death!" She turned back to you. "The both of you!"

"Well then," said the Doctor.

But then Donna went on, "Tell you what I will do, though- Christmas dinner."

She was followed by silence.

You couldn't speak, not when you could see Jackie's gentle smile as she passed you your cup. And then you could hear Mickey laugh while you scooped the turkey on your plate. Home, they had been your home, Rose and Jackie and Mickey, all that warmth and joy and ease, because you hadn't had to pretend when they were there. No, every moment was a gi-

"Oh come on." Donna's voice broke you out of the dream. Because that was what it was now, and that was what it would stay - a dream.

"No, no, we couldn't," you tried to decline. You couldn't sit down with a family, and be happy, and let it be Christmas. Not now. The memory of Mickey and Jackie burned, but Rose -

Not without Rose. Not when it felt like half your chest was missing. It had been less than a day.

"We don't do that sort of thing," the Doctor joined in.

"You did it last year, you both said so, and might as well, because mom always cooks enough for twenty," she tried.

"Donna," you said and there was something in your voice that stopped her (grief). "We can't." You let your sorrow show, and you hadn't wanted to do that.

But it was so, so close, just below the surface, everything in you was screaming, still screaming Nononononono ROSE!!!! There had been enough danger and adrenaline to distract you, but now that you were standing there in the snow, you couldn't keep the gnawing pain at bay. You were splintering.

She looked into your eyes, and you knew she understood. "Will I ever see you again?"

The Doctor gave her a soft smile. "If we're lucky."

Then you stepped towards Donna and she hugged you, even though you were both damp from the rain. She lifted her head from your shoulder and adressed the Doctor, "Just... hold onto her." She gave you a tight squeeze. "You need someone to stop you."

"Yeah," his voice was so soft you almost couldn't catch it.

And now it was time to go. You pulled away, but before you let go, you smiled and looked into Donna's brilliant blue eyes. "Thank you." You squeezed her arm so she knew you really meant it.

"And good luck," the Doctor wished Donna as you stepped backwards to join him. "And just... be magnificent."

She chuckled. "I think I will, yeah."

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door for you and you stepped in, but then Donna called out for you to wait and you both turned back. "What?"

"That friend of yours, what was her name?" she asked and you were ashamed you hadn't told her yet.

"Rose," you and the Doctor said in one voice. "Her name was Rose," you repeated and then there was nothing left to say.

You gave Donna a sad smile and turned away. The Doctor closed the door behind you and walked to the concole. You joined him just in time to grab a hold of it when the TARDIS started shaking.

You were off to the stars.

~

"Do you blame me?" the Doctor said in a tight voice when it was quiet. It was just the two of you again. You'd been hugging, and then he'd pulled away just enough to see your face and ask.

"What?" You had a small idea what he meant, but you didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Do you blame me for losing Rose?" he clarified, looking down at your joined hands. "I was supposed to keep you safe. I promised l would keep you both safe. And l didn't." His voice broke on the last word. His shoulders were tense, like he was bracing for a hit. You realized he'd braced himself because he thoght you wanted to leave him.

And all you wanted to do was smack him.

"Doctor, listen to me. And listen well," you commanded as you gently tilted his chin to look him in the eye. "Are you listening?" you demanded, and he nervously replied, "Yes."

"Good. What happened to Rose was not your falt. Did you hear me? Not. your. fault. I do not, and will never blame you for her loss."

He stared at you with his big brown eyes, lips slightly parted. He was completely lost, like he couldn't comprehend what you were saying.

"We knew that it was dangerous, we knew what could happen. It was her choice to stay, like it was mine. It could have been me just as easily."

His grip on your arm tightened as he shook his head, whispering "No, nononono," like he couldn't let himself imagine that posibility.

But you went on, "Or it could have been you, or none of us. That's the risk we took, that's the risk we both chose to take, from the moment we started travelling with you."

"It was our choice. Rose's and mine. And you don't get to take it from us, you hear me? You don't get to take her choice away like it was something you decided, like it was something only you did. She loved us and chose us and she was brave. So the consequences came, yes, like every other adventure we had, it's just that this time we don't like them. But they are ours and we'll live with them." There was stinging in your eyes and you didn't fight it. You cupped the Doctor's cheek with your hand. His brown eyes were wide, as if he just now came to understand what you'd said. What you'd meant.

You went on, "I'll grieve, and l'll hurt and so will you. But l'd rather have that time, the memories of Rose, of us together and the pain, than not to have had her at all." Your throat tightened and you had to swallow a few times to be able to speak again. You took a breath and finished, "So remember, Doctor, the choice was hers, and the choice is mine."

He had tears glittering on his cheeks and so did you. You held his gaze until he closed his eyes and hung his head, and then you hugged him.

You held him close and he clung to you even though he was shaking. You both sobbed but still you held each other.

You would hold each other together.

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #reader insert #donna x reader #rose x reader #donna noble #rose tyler #donna noble x reader #rose tyler x reader #donna x doctor #donna noble x doctor

[multifandomfanfiction]

Double Date

TITLE: Double Date PAIRING: Ikaris/OC, Dane/Sersi RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Ikaris does the one thing Anne begged him not to.

[A/N - Sequel to "The Only Woman".]

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Anne told Ikaris, “I specifically told you…”

“What was I supposed to say? Sorry Sersi, but you make my girlfriend extremely uncomfortable, so we’ll have to pass.”

Anne crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re still in love with her?”

Ikaris sighed. “I told you. You’re the only woman I want.”

Ikaris could tell her he loved her all he wanted, but they had been together for 5,000 years.

They pulled up to the restaurant.

“Please be civil tonight,” Ikaris begged her.

Anne huffed and got out of the car. She still wasn’t happy about this, but she would behave for Ikaris’ sake.

They entered the restaurant and Sersi was already there with Dane.

Sersi was dressed in a beautiful green bodycon dress. She looked gorgeous.

Dane was a man with a black mop of curls that were styled to perfection, a well-kept beard, and deep brown eyes.

“Hello again, Anne,” Sersi said.

Anne nodded. “Sersi.”

The two women stared at each other.

Dane stepped forward, breaking the tension. “Professor Dane Whitman.”

“Professor?” Anne asked, “Professor of what?”

“History primarily. That’s how Sersi and I met. How did you and Ikaris meet?”

“Every morning, I would go the same park and every morning, I would see Ikaris. One day he sat next to me and we started talking.”

It was a pretty mundane way to meet someone.

“Our reservation should be ready now,” Dane said.

Sersi nodded and walked over to the hostess.

Ikaris put his hand on her lower back as they walked to their table.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anne could see the way Ikaris was looking at Sersi all throughout dinner, always vying for her attention.

“Excuse me.” Anne grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and leaned up against the sink, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions.

This had been a horrible idea. She should have just refused to go.

Anne opened her purse and pulled out a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes, trying not to smudge her makeup. Once she had cleaned herself up, she left the bathroom.

Sersi and Ikaris were talking.

Ikaris hadn’t even noticed she left.

When she returned to the table, Sersi and Ikaris were talking about some adventure they had back when they lived in Athens.

Anne sat back down and Dane leaned over towards her.

“Are you following this at all?” he asked.

Anne took a sip of her wine. “Almost seems like they’re on a date and not us.”

“I know how you feel. When I met Ikaris, I was like ‘I can’t compete with this guy. I mean he flies and shoots lasers out of his eyes’.”

“I think you’re a pretty good looking guy.”

Dane blushed and looked down at his hands. “Thanks.”

“When he went away to save the world, I was so afraid he’d come back and leave me for Sersi. I mean look at her. She’s gorgeous.”

“Every woman is beautiful in their own way.”

Anne smiled. “I can see why Sersi fell for you.”

“You have a good heart, I can tell. You could do better than Ikaris.”

Anne shook her head. “You don’t know him. Sure, there are times he can be an asshole, but he’s really sweet when you get to know him.”

“Well maybe he only shows that side to you. You probably make him want to be a better man.”

That made Anne think. Ikaris had been hell-bent on letting a Celestial destroy the earth until Sersi mentioned her name. The very thought of her dying had snapped him out of his brainwashed thinking. Maybe she did make him want to be a better one, but then what was he doing fawning over his ex-wife?

Finally, Anne had had enough. She stood up and grabbed her purse. “It was nice meeting you, Dane.” She walked out of the restaurant, not expecting Ikaris to go after her.

But he did. “Anne? Where are you going?”

“Home!”

“Come back to the restaurant.”

“No. I’m not going back in there to watch you flirt and reminisce with your former lover.”

Ikaris rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Anne turned to face Ikaris. “Am I? Maybe Dane was right. I can do much better than you.”

“He said that?”

“Yes and your behavior is just proving him right.”

“Sersi and I were together for 5,000 years…”

“I am quite aware of that Ikaris.”

“But I never loved her like I love you.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“I wasn’t in love with her for all those years. Towards the end, I was just with her because she was an Eternal like I was and I didn’t want to be alone. Sersi always loved humanity more than me. I thought I wouldn’t fall in love again. Until I met you. Sersi and I are friends. Our pasts are intertwined.”

Anne knew she was letting her jealousy get the best of her.

Ikaris cupped her face in his face.

“I love you and only you, you stubborn human. And I’ll have you know that you ruined my surprise for you.”

“Surprise?”

Ikaris sank down onto one knee and pulled a little box out of his suit jacket.

“Ikaris, what are you doing?”

“Well, I’m attempting to ask you to marry me.”

“If I say no, will you leave me?”

Ikaris stood up. “What are you talking about?”

“I promise to not be so jealous of Sersi anymore. You don’t need to propose to me to prove to me that you love me.”

“You don’t want to marry me?”

Anne shook her head. “No, I don’t Ikaris. I love you, you know I do. But what we have works. I don’t want it to be ruined by getting married.”

“I understand and respect your decision. Now I’m really glad I didn’t do it at the restaurant.”

Anne laughed and pulled Ikaris down for a kiss. “I love you, Ikaris.”

“I love you, Anne.”

#ikaris/oc #ikaris #ikaris (marvel's eternals) #ikaris (marvel's eternals) imagine #ikaris imagines #sersi (marvel's eternals) #dane whitman #marvel's eternals #marvel cinematic universe imagines #marvel imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #the eternals imagines #eternals imagines #MCU #MCU imagines

[kookicat]

The Macaron Job 

I'm a damned idiot, Eliot thinks and scowls at the sheeting rain outside the kitchen window. It's a horrible damp day, the sort that turns his hair into a curly mess that defies even the hottest flat iron, and he's making macarons. They're never going to dry, he thinks and pokes the closest one with a clean fingertip, scowl deepening as the mix sticks to his skin. 

It wasn't like there were a million other, more rainy day compatible things he could have made. Like brown butter and oatmeal cookies. Or madeleines. Or lemon and poppy seed muffins, with a lemon glaze, sweet and sharp. Or an apple pie, rich and golden and spiked with cinnamon. Or even sugar cookies. 

But Parker had asked for French macarons, and he's never been able to say no to the women, especially when Sophie gets in on the act. So he's stuck in the kitchen, babysitting a sheet pan of macarons that are stubbornly refusing to form any sort of skin. They're never going to work, he thinks and sighs, pulling out the ingredients to make a batch of sugar cookies, just in case, letting his hands fall into the familiar actions while his mind wanders, pondering what else he wants to add to his newly established kitchen garden. 

It's another part of himself that he's reclaimed, once he'd committed to the team, and it had taken him a while to get comfortable with his hands in the dirt again, but damn, it was nice to replace the old blood on his hands with warm, fragrant soil, capable of giving life rather than taking it. Parker had caught on first, bugging him with questions about what the plants did until he got his first harvest of peas and squash and carrots and tomatoes, turning them into something they could eat, remembering exactly how at peace he'd felt, sitting down at the table to eat a meal he'd produced in more ways than one. 

He glances at the tray of macarons again, feeling irritation niggle at him when they still aren't set. The sugar cookie dough forms a neat ball under his hands and he shapes it into a log, wrapping it in plastic and slipping it in the fridge to chill, trying to ignore the urge to glare at the macarons. Like that'll make them set faster, he thinks and has to laugh at himself, just a little. Truth be told, there's not many other places he'd rather be on a rainy day than his kitchen, even if he is stuck with the least rainy day friendly bake ever. 

Quiet footsteps head towards the kitchen and he keeps his back to the door, deliberately, ignoring the prickle between his shoulders that he still can't quite shake. He trusts them with his life and his soul and his sanity, but bone deep instincts aren't so easy to turn off. "They're not done yet," he says when the steps transfer from wood to the tile floor in the kitchen, knowing as good as he was, he wouldn't have heard her if she didn't want him to, because the woman was like a damn cat, all liquid grace and soft steps. 

"They didn't take this long last time," she complains, boosting herself onto the counter and reaching around him to steal a crumb of sugar cookie dough from the big copper mixing bowl. 

Eliot tucks a curly strand of hair behind his ear and glances at the window, where the rain has become even worse, pouring down in a way that makes him wonder idly if they need to start building an arc. Hardison would hate that, he thinks, all those animals to manage and manages not to grin too widely. "Last time it wasn't pouring with rain," he says, and lifts an eyebrow at her when she frowns. 

She sneaks another scrap of cookie dough, chewing thoughtfully. "That makes a difference?" 

"Sure." He crosses his arms, resisting the urge to poke the damned macarons again, and leans back against the cabinet. "It's baking, Parker. Everything makes a difference." There's a thread of wry, amused annoyance in his voice. Sometimes the strict measurements, the recipes that have to be followed to the letter, the exacting nature of baking are exactly what he needs, letting him lose himself in the details, pushing back the memories for just a little while longer. It's almost like meditation, steps he knows like the notes of an old, familiar song. And sometimes, he wants the opposite, wants to grab ingredients by instinct to create something entirely new, something fresh and exciting and his in a way that baking never quite captures. 

"How do you know when they're ready?" she leans over, bumping shoulders with him, close enough that her hair brushes his cheek, nibbling on the last scrap of dough. 

"You're going to get a stomach ache," he mutters absently, tapping the closest macaron round with his pointer finger. "They're ready for baking when they don't stick to your fingers." 

It doesn't, to his surprise, and he lifts the tray, sliding it into the pre-heated oven. There's dark chocolate ganache chilling in the fridge and he pulls the bowl out, setting it on the counter to warm, pretending not to see Parker steal a spoonful as he turns away to stack the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. He turns back and has to smother a grin, because she has chocolate on her cheek and an overly innocent expression on her face. 

"Is that nice?" he asks, biting the inside of his lip to keep a straight face. 

She blinks at him, idly swinging her legs, taking care not to thump her boots into the cupboard door. "I don't know what you mean!" she says and he laughs, tossing a dish towel at her. 

"You have ganache on your face," he says and she swipes it away. 

The timer beeps and he silences it, turning the sheet pan around in the oven so everything bakes evenly. He grabs a piping bag and gives the ganache a stir, handing the spoon to Parker while he fills the bag. The kitchen smells safe, like good vanilla and sugar and chocolate and combined with the pouring rain it's making him feel relaxed, tranquil, almost sleepy in a way that's rare for him. He leans against the counter again, letting the comfortable silence stretch its legs, half an eye on the window, watching the water run down the glass. 

"You could have said no, you know," Parker says suddenly, softly and he grunts as he ponders his answer. 

"I know," he starts, and shrugs. "I didn't want to say no." 

"Oh," she says, frowning like she's missed something and normally, he wouldn't have the words to explain it to her, but it's different somehow, in the warm kitchen and he shifts his weight a little, glancing at the timer before he starts talking. 

"I wanted to," he shrugs, "For a long time, all I did was destroy stuff. People, mostly." The words sting more than he expects coming out and he pauses, clearing his throat, taking the time to figure out what he wants to say next. "I was finding my way back from that when we did that first job, but I still had a ways to go. Creating rather than destroying helps." The words are sticking in his brain and he scratches his jaw, meeting her eyes, seeing understanding there, feeling the echo of another conversation like this. "You never expect me to give more than I can." He lifts a hand, gestures vaguely at the kitchen. "This, I can give. So, yes, I could have said no, but I didn't want to." The corner of his mouth quirks up in a wry smile. "Even if you did ask for macarons on the worst possible day to make them." 

"You like them too," she protests, knowing that she's not the only one in the room with a sweet tooth. Eliot just hides his better, but she's never seen him turn down a donut yet. 

"I do," he agrees easily and shoves his hair back again. The humidity means it wants to fall in his face and his last two hair ties had mysteriously vanished. I'd order more, if I didn't think a quick sweep of the brew pub would turn up a dozen, he thinks. With three of them using them, the damn things seem to grow legs. 

"Here," Parker says and offers him a hair tie. 

He takes it, pretty sure it had started out life as one of his to begin with and puts his hair up, washing his hands just as the timer starts to beep. He turns off the tap and dries his hands as Parker silences the alarm, grabbing a dry dish towel before he pulls the sheet pan out of the oven. 

They're not his best batch ever - some are more oval than round, and he's enough of a perfectionist to find that annoying, but they smell great and he sets the sheet pan down on the cooling rack. 

"How soon can we eat them?" Parker asks and he swats her hand away as she reaches for one. 

"They're hot," he says absently, before he remembers that he's talking to Parker and she seems to spend a quarter of her life in places where anyone else would find the heat unbearable. "Let them cool, or they'll break when you move them," he adds. "It shouldn't take long." 

The kitchen is cool and he knows from experience that the macarons will be cold enough to handle pretty quickly. He just needs to distract Parker until that point. 

"There's sugar cookie dough in the fridge. We can shape those while these cool," he suggests and she brightens. 

"Can we make dinosaurs?" she asks, seeming to bounce on the spot without actually moving. 

"No," he says, because sugar cookies should be round and he's pretty sure the dinosaur cutters found a new home, far away from his kitchen. 

She frowns. "Animals then." 

He pulls the dough out of the fridge and sets it next to the ganache while he preps another sheet pan. "No," he says, because he's fairly sure the animal cutters went to live on the same farm as the dinosaurs. "Rounds are fine."

"You're no fun," she grumps and frowns at him, seeing the quirk in his lip that means he's secretly amused and not buying her act at all. 

"I made you two types of cookie," he protests, and reaches into the cupboard on the wall, pulling out a new blend of sprinkles. They're less lurid than her usual pick, but they're also dyed with natural extracts and not chemicals he can't pronounce and so he figures it's a decent trade off. 

"Ooh, sprinkles!" Parker says, grinning at him. "Sprinkles are fun." 

He cuts the log of cookie dough into neat, even slices and arranges them on the tray, reaching over to turn the oven up, wondering what to defrost for dinner. It's just him and Parker, for a change, because Nate and Sophie have a table booked at a fancy new restaurant and Hardison is at some game thing with his friends. Eliot doesn't rate the new restaurant - the menu is overly complicated, and he knows enough about Hardison's game nights to know he'll come home stuffed with enough cheap pizza, orange soda and gummy frogs to fuel a small army for a week. Parker would be quite happy with a bowl of whatever luridly coloured cereal she'd latched onto for the week, but Eliot is craving something rich and warming and comforting, because the weather shows no sign of improving. There's a ragu sauce in the freezer and he pulls it out, setting it aside to defrost, knowing there's fresh pasta in the fridge and homemade dinner rolls in the bread bin. 

Parker is rifling in the drawer next to her knees and pulls out a star shaped cutter. "Stars?" she says and waves it at him. 

"Fine," he says, and rolls his eyes. "Make half of them stars." 

She hops down and crosses to the sink to wash her hands, humming happily as she desecrates half of his perfectly round cookies. He sighs and presses the scraps together, wrapping them in plastic and dumping them in the fridge for later. The cookies will be a little tough, but that's nothing a glass of milk can't solve. 

The oven beeps to let him know it's reached temp, and he slides the cookie pan in, checking the macarons and finding them nicely cool. "You wanna fill these?" he asks as he gathers the stuff he needs for a simple glaze for the sugar cookies. "Just don't eat all of them," he warns as she takes the piping bag from his hands. 

It's the sort of kitchen task she's good at, hands that can crack a safe in seconds graceful as she works the piping bag. Piping makes his hands and wrists ache - he's broken too much stuff for there not to be consequences- so he's glad she took to it so readily. 

They work in comfortable silence as he sets the ragu sauce in a pan over a low flame to defrost and adds pasta to a second pan- fettuccine, not the one of the random bags of shaped pasta that keep appearing in his kitchen. He'd opened the cupboard and found pasta pandas a few weeks ago and wondered seriously if he'd taken one too many blows to the skull before Hardison claimed them. 

The glaze for the cookies comes together easily under his hands and he pours it into another piping bag to keep it from setting while they wait for the cookies to bake. There's lemon juice in it, to offset the sweetness of the cookies and for some reason, the combination reminds him of the team, all distinctive parts that come together to be better than they ever could be alone. 

He has nothing else to do for the moment and so turns to watch Parker as she finishes off the last few macarons, piping a neat dot of ganache on one before adding a second on top. There's a new smear of chocolate over her top lip and he reckons more than one has made its way into her stomach. 

There's an odd macaron left and she offers it to him. "They're really good," she says, around the bite in her mouth. "Is there a secret ingredient? What is it?" 

Love, he thinks and takes the macaron, knowing he's smiling again. "Now that would be telling," he says instead. 

#leverage #eliot spencer #fanfic #parker #Fluff #Eliot bakes #Domestic!Eliot #Yes I know the formatting is off but it's 3am and I'll fix it tomorrow

[heavenunderthemoon]

Drunken confessions- Luke Alvez x Reader

Summary: Luke has one too many drinks and wants to tell you a secret. 

warnings: alcohol, mentions of death, ? I don't think anything else

You took another sip of the single drink you had been nursing all night. The team had decided that after a rather tough case that week, they needed to follow up their hardships with a drink in hand. Luke had probably taken the worst of it that week.

The unsub hadn't followed the profile the team had given him, a strange deviation from what you all believed to be his endgame leaving you all in a dangerous situation that had made Luke have to make a final decision. His bullet had shot the unsub in the middle of the forehead, one of his first kills on the job, and you could tell each one pained him more than he cared to admit.

Luke Alvez was different that way.

He was a large, burly, intimidating man (were you getting off track?), but his personality differed. His personality was that of a large, walking, personified teddy bear that could practically live off snuggles and cherry lollipops (alright, maybe an exaggeration, but he quite enjoyed your cherry chapstick so it wasn't that far-fetched to assume.). Luke was kind and caring and gentle and loving and about a million other things that you had thought a million times over that you didn't quite deserve. You didn't deserve Luke Alvez, a claim that crossed your mind more often than you could count because you were just so different.

You had been on the team for five years before he came along and even in that time the team still hadn't seen you open up. They hardly knew anything about you apart from your coffee order and your favorite snack from the vending machine. Useless, mindless, careless things that didn't even really matter in the grand scheme of things because you just weren't that type of person. Or, so they had thought.

And, they were proved incredibly, horribly, and awfully wrong when the Alvez man had first walked through those elevator doors and your cheeks had tinted pink. When your hands went to scoop up stray hairs, or when you suddenly became more involved in team outings. They noticed when you chose to sit near him after plane rides, or laugh at his ill-conceived, horribly-timed 'dad' jokes- especially when they weren't even funny.

And, of course, they noticed when he started bringing extra jackets in his go-bag (you were perpetually cold but too stubborn to admit it), or how his eyes would scan the room when he entered, searching for your familiar head of y/h/c hair. And they especially noticed when he finally asked you out all those months ago, how you had bit your lip, eyes darting out to roam the filled seats of the jet, how their heads had all turned, eyes averting as if they thought you wouldn't see them watching you two intensely.

So, yes, you two were different. You were different in every way that didn't matter and loved each other in all that ones that did. And so, he had (after much insistence) heeded your advice when you told him to take a load off tonight.

'I'll be designated driver.' You had reassured, rubbing your hand on his back as you two got ready to meet the team at the bar.

Roxy was running around the apartment, too excited that her owner had arrived back home to sit still. You had only moved in a month ago, but the dog was practically already attached at the hip. 'Traitor!' Luke would tease her, as Roxy far too often opted to snuggle with you while the two of you unwinded after a long day of work. Her head would tilt, tail wagging as if she didn't understand, but a twinkle in her eye made you think she did.

'Babe, you suck at driving.' He had teased, but here he was all the same, four whiskies in and his cheeks flushed, a lazy grin on his face as he made his way over to you from grabbing another. His tolerance was lower than yours, something the two of you laughed about far too often. Many nights had been spent, wine bottles littering the floor as he drunkenly sang to you, probably some old song (Copacabana seemed to be his favorite), picking you up and twirling you around the kitchen. Despite your squeals for him to put you down he would catch sight of your smile and know that it was the last thing you wanted him to do and his arms would wrap around you tighter, only confirming that burning feeling of love that he tended to set alight inside of you.

The team watched amusedly as the former ranger arrived back at the booth you were all situated in, his eyes never quite leaving yours. His smile was easy- something you always admired. Even after hard days he never seemed to lose that simple, dopey grin that made you fall in love with him all over again.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

His breath smelled like cinnamon when he leaned in and you leant closer, eyes narrowing in confusion when his eyes glanced around there table, suspicious of the team watching his movements.

You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips. It tugged at the corners and you bit your lip to suppress your giggles at his childish antics.

"Yes." You responded back. And the team watched in amusement because this was one of those moments that they knew your guard was completely down. That the y/n they met five years ago had been completely consumed by the man before her. No, not consumed, because consumed meant you lost a part of yourself and you hadn't. You hadn't needed to lose any part of yourself because Luke would never do that. No, Luke had helped you find the parts of yourself that you had given away before. The ones you had lost and expected to not ever be found. He helped piece you back together and then you had noticed that only one part remained missing and it was him.

His brown eyes had taken on a mischievous glint and he leant forward once more. "I really like you."

His words had you snorting in amusement, glancing down to the already half-emptied glass and scooting it away immediately before glancing back to the Alvez man. The man before you, a good, honorable, respectful man. A goofy, silly, childish man. A man who kept you safe, who loved you, who made you feel like you were enough. Even when he was seemingly too drunk to remember that ring on your finger, he hit on you because even a drunk Luke Alvez was hopelessly, eternally, and irrevocably head over heels for you.

"Well, good. Because I don't marry anyone who only just likes me. They have to really like me for me to say yes." You teased, and he pouted when the team chuckled at your response.

Luke cupped your cheek, your chuckles dying out upon his touch. His face had turned serious, as if you hadn't quite gotten the point that he so desperately wanted to make. "No, I love you, y/n. Really."

Your hand, clad in the ring he had proposed with only two weeks ago went to clasp the hand cupping your face and just like that your cheeks were warming, that love-sick grin only he seemed to be able to elicit form you peeking out from your glossed lips.

"I know." You said, your voice full of sincerity, and you were. You knew ten times over just how much Luke loved you. You knew it because he said it all the time without even having to utter the words. He said I love you by grabbing your keys and warming up your car during the winter so that you could avoid driving to work in a frozen tundra. He said it in sloppily scrawled post-it-notes plastered onto the fridges reassuring you where he went and when he would be back because he knew how much you worried. He said it when you would bake, his fingers dipping into the batter, showering you with praise over the taste.

And you said it non-verbally too. You said I love you by always making sure he was comfortable, Fourth of July an especially hard time for a veteran with PTSD. You said it by always taking pictures (he had never liked having his picture taken but he loved hearing you exclaim 'say cheese', your eyes scrunching when you smiled). You said it by grabbing him his favorite coffee flavors, even if you hated the taste, or when you would wake him in the morning with a peck on the nose. A gentle, delicate peck that made him stop breathing for just a moment in his sleep as he returned to the waking world.

And the emotion behind your eyes seemed to be enough because his hand dropped and that dopey, lopsided grin was back on his face in an instant. "I love you too, weirdo. Now, come on, let's get you home."

Your hands tugged on his muscled arms and he got up without complaint, shooting you a childish smirk. "Love me a woman who's straightforward." He winked, making the team chuckle as you rolled your eyes, bidding them good night before tugging on his arm once more.

"Oh, shut it."

#luke alvez x reader #luke alvez #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

[cheyningdiamond]

Seen You Once Before...

Oh boy another SherHank fic? Yes. Yes it is. WARNINGS: Death, Gore, Blood, Crying, Topic of giving up on life, This is gonna be a depressing fic sorta so just be weary

It was a cold rainy night in Nevada. Sheriff was about to be executed by the agents for his cowardly acts and being deemed 'obsolete' by the Auditor. Sheriff hung his head, not wanting to look up as the Agent had a gun pointing to the back of his head. They were mocking, laughing at him. "Weeell, poor ol' cowboy here's gonna yee his last haw, ain't that right, fellers!?" One mocking his accent. "Such a shame... He lived as a coward and he'll die as one too~" The other laughed. The third one glared at them both. "Just shoot the fuckin' pussy in the head. I wanna grab a bite to eat soon." Sheriff tightly closed his eyes, staring down at his hat in front of him. His hands were tied behind his back and at this point, he didn't wanna even attempt to escape. All his life was had been nothing but failure. He failed to kill Hank.

He failed trying to protect Nevada. He even failed the Auditor. No matter what he did, who's side he was on, it just led to death, failure, and regret. He snapped out of his deep thoughts as he felt the barrel of the gun poke at the back of his head, touching his greasy light brown hair. "Any last words?" The agent smirked. "...Go fuck yerself." He replied coldly. "Ohoh, finally decided to grow a pair... Little too late for that, cowboy." He cocked the gun, and Sheriff closed his eyes again. They heard a gunshot, followed by an explosion, but it only left Sheriff on the ground with ringing ears. He opened his light brown eyes and witnessed the agent dead behind him. His head had been completely blown off and the gun beside him was on the ground. He looked up, seeing a familiar muscular black-wearing figure pounce on another agent, smashing his head into the wall, leaving red paste stained on the silver metal-like material. The last agent shrieked and tried shooting at Hank but ultimately missed. The agent was backed up by the window and with an easy kick, was sent flying out of the 4 story window, dying upon impact with the cold hard ground below. Sheriff looked up weakly, seeing the fire coming out of the hallway through the room doors. What shined in the fire was the red glasses wearing mercenary, staring down at him. His metal jaw was exposed and his outfit was torn slightly, like he had been through a rougher fight not too long ago. Sheriff knew he must've came to kill him off too, so he closed his eyes. "Just do it quick, Wimbleton... Ah know it's comin'..." He had tears forming in his eyes. He was deathly afraid of Hank. And Hank knew this. He was roughly lifted up by his jacket, but was thrown over the taller figure's shoulder. He blinked and watched Hank as they ran down the hallway, carefully not getting too close to the fires that burned down the facility. Sheriff started to reluctantly squirm. Where were they taking him!? Why won't they just kill him off!? He was waiting! There was nothing else! Sheriff started to yell. "Git off'a me!" He barked, kicking his legs weakly. This earned a very gruff. "Knock it off." From Hank. The metallic jaw had given him more of a echo-like and steel-grindy voice. Sheriff kept kicking as they reached the exit. He had to witness Hank shooting and killing every guard that got in his way from the room he found Clayton in, to now. They were finally outside in the pouring rain and Hank rushed to the van. They were pretty much in the clear now and Hank opened the trunk of the van, setting Sheriff in. Without hesitation, Sheriff kicked him in the knee, making him stumble back. He regained his posture and angrily grabbed the smaller man by his jaw, pinning him down to the trunk floor. "Now dammit, stop!" Hank snarled. Sheriff had tears in his eyes, but he was pissed. "Wh-Why th' Hell didn' you let me die back there!? They were doin' you a damn favor!" He hiccuped as he glared up at the Wimbleton, who stared coldly back with his red, blood-colored glasses. There was definitely blood stained on them. "Just. Stop. Squirming..." Hank growled. He forced Sheriff to sit up and pulled out a knife. Sheriff breathed sharply, thinking it was going into him as he closed his eyes. 'Finally, just end it. Please.' He thought. Hank pressed his body up against the Sheriff and began cutting the ropes that restrained his wrists. Sheriff just gave up. Obviously his time wasn't coming today. "Why're you helpin' me!? Last time ah checked, you wanted me dead!" "Well, things change, don't they?" He got off of him, removing his knee off of the truck and took Sheriff's hands, pulling him out of the trunk. "Come on. We're leaving." "A-Ah ain't goin' nowhere with you..." "You don't have a say in this. Now get in." Hank opened the passenger side of the van. Sheriff backed away, holding his shoulders. "A-Ah said no..." "Clayton-" Hank grabbed his arm, now furious. Sheriff snapped. "A-Ah said NO!!" Out of anger, he slapped Hank hard across the face. His glasses had fallen

onto the ground

and even broke from the sheer impact of the slap. Sheriff looked at Hank, then at his hand. Holy fuck. Did he just slap Hank fucking Wimbleton?? Ohh no. Hank held the side of his face and his ear rung from the impact and glared at Sheriff. Sheriff's eyes got big. Slapping Hank wasn't the only thing that shook him to his core... He stared deeply into his eyes. Those different colored eyes. She flashed in his memory. The train. Sheriff stared and started to shake. More tears fell from his face, his mouth was slightly agape as he started to say the name. That name. Hank glared and put his hand over Sheriff's mouth before he could even utter it. "...We're going. Now." Hank grabbed Clayton and shoved him into the seat and shutting the door. He walked over and got in the driver's seat, slamming his door. Clayton could tell he was frustrated now. This sent fear chilling up his body. No fucking way. Hank was once... A friend of his? Someone he got along well with!? He couldn't even believe, or even imagine Hank and him being friends. Or even sharing a laugh over something... Sheriff felt his stomach pit from the overwhelming stress. Both from earlier and now becoming too much. Hank silently drove away from the burnt down building, looking at it through his rearview mirror. Sheriff wanted to speak. He was pissed. He was afraid. He was confused. Why was- How did- Who- He couldn't even form questions in his head right now. Hank stared at the road as he drove. Only thing that could be heard was their gruff and heavy breathing. Sheriff stared into Hank's eyes as he drove. At this point, he decided to just figure out what was going on now. "...Wh-Where're ya takin' me...?" Hank ignored him as he drove. "...N-Now dammit, answer me!" He snapped, his voice shaking and cracked. This made Hank talk. "I'm taking you to our facility. You're still beat up and you clearly need a place to stay now, yeah?" He glared at him. "S-Since when did you even care...?" "..." "Why are you helpin' me!? What good have ah ever been to you fer you to help me!?" "Oh fucking Christ, can't you just be thankful!?" Hank suddenly yelled, feeling his temper get the best of him. "No! Yer a damn menace! A blight! All you want is people dead so long as it fills yer sick desires!" "I kill who I must. And in about 3 seconds if you don't shut your damn mouth, I'll add another on my list..." "Do it!!" Clayton screamed. "Ah ain't got nothin' anymore!" The cowboy started to come down into choked sobs as he yelled. "Ah failed my people, ah failed Nevada, ah even failed workin' for the Auditor because ah was too weak!" He glared at Hank. "So just fuckin' do it already! What's been stoppin' ya!?" There was a screech as Hank slammed his foot on the brake, roughly pressing Sheriff against the dashboard from the jolt. "Urgh-!" He grunted as he put his hands in front of himself to stop himself from smashing his face with the dashboard. Hank closed his eyes and started taking deep breaths. Was he, trying to calm down? That was rare... As far as Clayton knew the only stress reliever Hank knew what to do was kill kill kill. Hank slowly opened his eyes after a minute passed, staring at the dusty road they were on. With a low growl, he finally spoke. "...I don't know." Sheriff looked at him. "As far as I'm concerned, I should've had you dead ages ago... …But, I never did. I could've easily killed you back there before Jeb stabbed me dead. Every little attempt I just let you go. Is it pity? Do I feel bad for you? Fuck if I know." Clayton stared at Hank. "...What happened to you?" He spoke. "You were gonna be a mother. You had a calm life. You had a normal life as a normal person, man or woman, no matter! Why th' hell would you go and create all this chaos!?" Hank stared down, looking away from him. "I wasn't exactly fully innocent when you first met me, Clay..." Clayton stared. "H-Huh-?" "I had already killed a man. A man who was nothing but a drunk. A man who I unfortunately had fallen for." He started up the car as he

finished talking. "That was just my luck. But don't ever go and tell me I was innocent before. I never was. Never will be." He kept driving as Sheriff stared. "Yer, husband... Ya killed him?? That's why he was deceased when we spoke?" "...It was more self defense. He was gonna kill me and my son. I couldn't let him. So, I just..." Hank shook his head. Of everyone he killed, that was the last kill he ever wanted to talk about, let alone think it. "I don't wanna talk about it. Will you shut up and just let me take you back to get patched?" Sheriff sighed and nodded slowly. Fuck, he felt horrible now. Never would he thought they would've killed a soul back then. It was a silent 15 minute drive. The radio station played music but it was static and cut off every now and again. Clayton finally had the courage to speak up. To apologize. "...A-Ah'm sorry, Hank..." Clayton looked down. "For what?" "F-Fer everythin'... This whole war, what you went through... Er, givin' ya the big one eariler..." He looked at his hand, which still ached. Slapping teeth and metal really didn't tickle on the hand. Hank sighed. "It's, whatever. It's over now so no need to dwell on it." Clayton sighed. "Just- why? Why cause all this unnecessary violence? Why create this madness?" Hank kept his eyes on the road, but had a grim look. "...I can't exactly say... I never intended for this to be a full war." Sheriff shook his head. Everything was peaceful back then. Everyone played music, they all had a good time, just, living. Now look at it. The once gray-blue skies now black and red. Hank finally stopped the van once they were out at the hideout doors. He got out and opened the Sheriff's door. "Out. No more struggling..." Clayton nodded slowly and stepped out. With a hand on Clayton's shoulder, Hank led him inside... What was gonna happen? Was this where he was going to live...? Sheriff took a deep breath and just decided to wait and see...

#my fics #sheriff #hank #madness combat #holy shit this took foreveerrrr #if enough ppl like it i will continue #just not tonight am exhausted

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-Ire “The King.”

“I am starting to think that the oracle was screwing with us.”

“Silence!” One of the men barked, clapping Ramirez across the back of the head with an open palm. Ramirez jerked forward with a grunt of pain, and seeing that, Adam was having the sudden, sneaking suspicion that…. Everything wasn’t what it seemed to be.

At first, the whole thing had screamed of elaborate tourism. Let the tourists show up and think they are going on some cool quest, and then make them overpay to meet with some lady who was just super high, but the way these men were acting…

Adam was beginning to agree with Ramirez.

If their adventure as Sheriff’s deputies had been real then wasn’t there all the likelihood that this was real as well? Just because you show up to someplace exotic doesn't mean it was designed like that to amuse you. He wouldn’t take a hop and a skip over to Japan and just assume that the different customs there were an elaborate ploy to get money off of tourists….

Well maybe on Earth that sort of thing could totally happen, but looking at these men…. Their physiques, their clothing,their weapons, and the very real, point of their spears, he was becoming aware that maybe they had stumbled on something a lot more serious than they had first thought.

Shit.

He seemed to have a habit of doing things like that.

He glanced around at the small contingent of men who walked with them. As he had noticed before each and every one of them was absolutely shredded, not necessarily in the bodybuilder kind of way, but in a way that made it clear these guys never skipped leg day, arm, day or cardio. 

Adam and Ramirez were no slouches; by comparison, both of them hitting the gym at least five times a week for an hour at least, but in comparison?

And of course they didn’t hide it either. 

Each of the men carried a massive circular shield and spears taller than they were. They had on sandals with greaves and simple leather wraps, most of them were bare chested, though their commanding officer wore a breastplate, all of them wore helmets.

“Laconia!” 

His sudden exclamation startled the man as well as Ramirez, 

“Shit, I just realized why that sounded familiar.”

One of the men turned to look at his commanding officer, “I do not think they are Athenians, sir.” He glanced back at Adam, “Too dumb.”

The other men laughed at his expense. Adam frowned, “Sorry my knowledge of ancient greek geographical locations isn’t up to snuff.”

He was silenced with another slap to the head, and with his ears ringing and one eye fuzzy, he finally accepted that this was, in fact, not a joke. Somehow, for some reason that dumbass oracle had sent them out to get potentially sacrificed by a group of Neospartans, and he doubted they were going to be able to sue for damages.

It took almost the whole day to make it to “Sparta” itself, though he became aware of their approaching closeness when small dwellings began appearing on the edge of fields. It was only when he figured out that Spartans needed to eat too that he realized not ALL of them were going to be big buff badasses. Of course, that was until he saw the farmer pulling the plow, who was in fact Hercules’s cousin on his father Zeus’s side.

Okay so maybe things were a bit different.

He was under the impression back during the age of real Sparta, a lot of spartan citizens were just normal people and it was only a select few who were turned into warriors. Women, while they had some rights than in other places, were still expected to stay home and take care of things while the men were off at war. She had to be strong, but that was only because she was expected to raise spartan sons, or something like that. He couldn’t remember exactly how that sort of thing worked, he wasn’t a historian. For all he knew Spartan women were just as shredded as the men.

A truth that seemed apparent for thee spartans because, as they made it to the next little farming house, a woman turned to look at them and damn it was like the Amazons met the spartans. She wasn’t particularly tall by anyone’s standards, but she looked like did mixed martial arts for a living.

He had no doubt she could probably kick his ass.

Ramirez had gone rather silent as he looked around  nodding to himself every so often as they were dragged through the outlying villages and farms, and eventually up a set of stone steps leading into a city which was surrounded by lush medeteranian hills and grasslands on either side.

The city itself was no slouch either. It wasn’t as artistically expressive as New Athens had been, ut there was no shortage of statues, and interesting architecture. Walking down the street, everyone they met was shredded or well on their way to becoming so. The men, the women, everyone but the children.

He noticed a few differences from ancient histories, including but not limited to the fact that the women were just as armored as the men, the many races and ethnicities, and the strange assortment of modern day dogs that roamed the place, which he thought was a strange addition.

A line of marching soldiers passed by wearing their red and gold, and as they went Ramirez turned his head to follow them, “Welp, I am pretty sure I had a dream like this once.”

“Did you dream include us dying horribly?”

“Does being crushed between someone's thighs count?”

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, “how can you be thinking like that at a time like this?”

“How can you not, I am scared and way turned on and it is the most confusing feeling I have ever had in my life…. Aren't you just a little?”

Adam frowned and was surprised to find that, “No, he didn’t think so. He was JEALOUS of plenty of these men, but none of the men or women caught his eye in that way, at least he didn't think so.”

Ramirez stared at him and shook his head sadly.

“What?”

“Still thinking about your breakup huh?”

“No I’m not.”

“Quiet.” One of the men hissed raising a hand to backhand one of them, though he stopped as a voice called out from before them.

“Captain NIcos, you have returned from your patrol.”

It was a woman’s voice this time, and as they looked up an armored figure stepped down from the steps to the columned temple. She wore a bright golden breastplate, knee length red skirt and golden greaves and bracers. An attendant at her shoulder carried her Helm, though she kept hold of her spear and circular shield. She was at least six feet tall and had a body like the she hulk though her face was exceptionally beautiful as well, with large brown eyes and full lips. 

The man raised his spear to her, “Queen Xanthia.”

The man around them raised their spears as well.

She stepped forward over the stone, “What have you found here.” She used the tip of her spear to reach under Ramirez’s chin and tilt his head back, “Athenians?’

“They say they are ‘from Athens, but not “Athenian.” Captain Nicos said shoving Adam forward so he tripped and fell to his knees on the hard stone.

She grunted and turned her attention to him, tilting his head back to look at her, “Is this true, not-an-Athenian.”

He crinched away from the blade of her spear, “I’m Mericandian actually, Terran, Earthling.”

There were a couple grunts of surprise from around the group.

“Tourists.” Ramirez piped in.

Xanthia frowned, raising her chin, “And how did you end up on Laconia. We don’t encourage tourists here.” 

“Would you believe it if I said that asshole of an oracle sent us here.” He raised his hands, “We meant no disrespect of course, we just came here to see the sights and then leave.”

Ramirez nodded.

There was another muttering from the crowd. She had an eyebrow raised, “The oracle you say?”

The two of them nodded again, not sure where this was going.

She turned her head to Captain Nicos, “Keep a close eye on them, I will speak with the king”

She turned on her heels and walked off, passing through the double doors with a swish of her red cloak, leaving the two of them still kneeling on the rough stone.

They turned to look at each other in nervous confusion, not entirely sure where this was going. Overhead the sky had dimmed to a dull blue and torches were being lit all up the city streets. The young man who was doing the lighting had the look of a classic greek hero with tight curly hair and a body borrowed from a demigod.

The two of them didn’t say anything until the doors opened and the queen walked back out, “The king wishes to see the intruders.”

Two guards held the doors opened as they were forced to their feet and up the steps. The interior of the room was bare and blunt, no more than stone pillars and a single uncomfortable throne carved out of sharp marble blocks, on which sat the manliest man he had likely ever seen. Xanthia walked over and sat in the identical throne next to him, and together it seemed as if they were being pulled before the throne of the very gods themselves.

This man was godlike, but not the kind of overly muscled where he can't even touch his own head. This was probably what peak human performance looked like with a neatly shaved beard and thick dark hair. Adam glanced over at Ramirez again, to see the other man was nodding in great approval of this development. He turned his head back to the man who stood very slowly, his armor clinking. He wore a short sword on one hip and carried a spear in one hand, and when he moved, he moved with the grace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and where his body was at all times.

He walked down the steps and looked the two of them over with steely golden eyes, like those of a wolf.

His gaze fell on Adam for a long hard moment, “I see we have been graced by the presence of a foreign general.” He said turning back and stepping up the stone steps.

There was a murmuring in the room around them.

Adam blinked in surprise, “You know who I am.”

The Spartan king stood before his seat, but did not sit down, “Well of course.”

He held up his arm so Adam could see the scrolling holographic image across his wrist, “Just because I live like a spartan doesn’t mean I subjugate my life to not knowing what goes on in the universe. In fact as King it is my duty to know what important developments are being made in this galaxy.”

He turned his head to look at Adam ,”I am loyal to this galaxy and the ideals upon which humanity has befriended aliens.” He walked across the stone, “And you Admiral Vir  are an important linchpin in that model.”

He turned to wave a hand at Ramirez, “And of course I know a Marine when I see one.”

Another muttering from around the room.

So, this is sort of not what he expected. The Spartan king was well versed in intergalactic politics, and was no slouch intellectually either.

“So, you’ll let us go then.”

The man did not smile, but the way his eyes twinkled, almost menacingly did not give Adam much hope.

“Oh I never said that.” He turned and paced back in the other direction, “You see, Admiral, I have become aware of an unfortunate pattern in humanity’s political history, and this includes the fall of empires due to poor or weak leaders.” he turned on the spot, “I had given up hope in being able to influence the intergalactic stage, but finding you here has…. Given me an idea.”

Oh no.

“I want to see just what kind of men are being tasked with keeping this galaxy together. I want to know if you can do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. I want to make sure that my people are in good hands, when their good is out of mine.”

“What are you talking about.”

“I want to make sure you are a brave leader, and that you can fight when is necessary.”

He made a motion with his hands and Ramirez was dragged off to the side.

A group of Spartans stepped up and grabbed Adam around the arms hauling him to his feet.

“Bring him to the training field.” The king said, and the group of men dragged him forward and out the doors.

Adam tried to protest but he was silenced as he was dragged from the doors, down the walkway and into a large lit arena with a sandy dirt floor. A large group of men were practicing here with their spears and shields, but cleared off as soon as an order was barked.

“What are you doing!” Adam demanded

“Consider this your greek trial, Admiral.” The king said taking his own spear and tossing it to Adam, who caught it in one hand, “Fight, and let’s see what you can do.” “But I-”

He was handed a shield, and then the group began to pull back.

The king stepped up onto the arena wall and paced down it’s length, “Lets see if you can beat one of my men first, and we will go from there.”

He motioned a hand and ordered one of the younger men forward. He couldn’t have been that old and was not nearly as well put together as the others, but he held his spear and shield with some confidence.

Ok…. this was going to get interesting.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop them, so Adam dropped into a crouch.

The shield felt awkward and heavy on his arm, but the spear was a familiar weight. They circled for a short time before the boy came charging at him. He could see what the king was doing. This boy was young and had probably trained repeatedly in drills but had never sued weapons in practice..

He was meant to be easy to beat.

Adam stepped to the side and caught the boy’s foot sending him staggering away. Adam used the shield to knock him further off balance and sent him plowing into the dirt.

No one made a sound.

It wasn’t that impressive. That was SUPPOSED to be easy.

“So at least you have SOME training.” The king called. Overhead a shooting star crossed over the heavens. A crowd trickled onto the stands of the arena.

He motioned someone else forward. She too was young, but the set of her face and a scar down her right cheek showed that she had at least SEEN combat at some point. The way she eyed Adam told him that she knew what she was doing.

Her problem?

She was likely to set i nher fighting abilities, not creative enough. He traded a couple of strikes with her, gaging her ability before making his move. He used his shield as a distraction to cover some of his movement so she couldn't see, and then sent a lightning fast jab. He struck a hit hard on the side of her helmet sending her plowing to the Arena floor.

Still no one made a sound.

The king nodded slowly and motioned someone else forward.

This man was an actual soldier, though likely no great shakes, but at least he knew what he was doing. Adam ended up in a sharp flurry of contact before the shield got in his way and he almost took a hard blow to the shoulder , even so he ended up with a delicate cut along the side of his cheek. It was only by way of quick thinking that he was able to duck under one of the swipes and kick the man hard in the sternum. He went flailing back into the dirt, and Adam couldn’t help but whisper to himself.

“And this is sparta bitch.”

The kind paced around him in a wide circle, “So, someone has trained you in the use of the spear.”

Adam growled, “I was trained to fight aliens with four arms, so you are going to have to try harder.”

The king smiled, “Confidence…. Always a good sign. But the shield, I think you have not been trained to use one of those.”

Adam paused nodded, and then threw the shield to the ground kicking it away.

He took the spear up in two hands, in a distinctly different style from the spartans, “Well, come on then.”

WIth the shield gone and his switch back to using a spear like he had been trained he defeated the next three challenges with relative impunity. It was only when the king stared adding extra fighters did Adam struggle.

They clashed hard, Adam ducking dodging and sometimes jumping over swings from his opponents. He dived into the dirt, rolled onto his back and caught two spears as they hurtled down at him. He kicked one in the side of the knee and he went down. Adam lunged for the hit, spun on the spot and caught the second spear as it came down for him again. He brought the but of his spear up and hit the woman in the face before spinning back in the other direction, dodging an oncoming jab and slammed his spear into the back of his opponent’s head sending them sprawling to the ground.

He was breathing heavily now but he could see and hear some of the men and women muttering in surprise.

The king nodded, “This is heartening, I must say. It seems as if our leaders CAN fight.”

Someone was motioned forward and he was handed a rag to wipe his face and a canteen of water. He drank greedy wiping his mouth and tossing the leather skin back to the young woman who had brought it to him.

“But I think I do see one deficiency.”

He took a waiting spear from one of his followers, waved off a shield and stepped into the ring.

Men and women all around the circle leaned forward in anticipation. Adam readied himself.

The king stepped forward.

Adam could already tell this wasn;t going to be easy.

He was already tired, the kind was fresh.

But still he was ready, the two men circled and then Adam lunged forward in the way the Drev had taught him, The king batted it away and they made an exchange. The man didn’t try to attack him, but seemed content on seeing what Adam could do. Their engagement must have lasted for thirty minutes as they clashed, the king slowly escalating over that time. The longer they went the more energized the other man became. Adam thought if he could just hold out until the other man grew tired as well, then maybe he would have an upper hand.

But it never happened.

Adam gasped for air.

Even after what must have been thirty minutes of continual engagement, the other man only seemed to be breathing steadier and more deeply. All together they had been fighting longer and harder than all of the other previous engagements put together, and still the man was not tired. Adam watched as the man specifically did not take openings that should have killed Adam.

He knew he was trying to make some sort of point.

Adam was breathing in ragged gasps now. He had never been so tired in all his life, he came in for a lunge he knew was sloppy, and his spear was kicked from his hand. A sandals foot hit him in the chest and he went down choking. The king stood over him nodding, “I am impressed by your skill” He turned and waved to the crowd, “You could match any man or woman here hand to hand in a fair fight, but you do have one deficiency.”

Adam gulped and panted.

The king crouched next to him, “No stamina.”

He stood again, “You train with my men tomorrow, and so does your marine. We will make Spartan’s out of you yet!”

Adam gasped coming to his knees, “Wait… but I-”

“You came here for vacation, and I am sorry to inform you that will not be so. You will not be leaving until I am satisfied our galaxy is in the Best hands.”

Adam stood crawling to his feet with great effort.

The king even smiled at him this time, which seemed strange to him somehow. He held out a hand and Adam took it, “A pleasure to fight with you Admiral, I am James king of the Spartans.”

Adam frowned, “James?’ Not Kyros or something?”

“I was born in the northern provinces of Mericanda, of course I don’t have a greek name.”

He clapped Adam on the shoulder and then walked off joined by his queen and their entourage as he shouted orders vanishing into the night.

Adam stared after him.

So, the king of Sparta was Canadian? 

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

*

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”  

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration.  He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

~

Next Chapter

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[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Promises Kept

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Former Damon Salvatore x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Elena Gilbert

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: Compulsion, reliving old memories, saying goodbye one last time.

Author’s Note: Another installment of Angst. But to be fair, this one isn’t as bad as the others have been. This is a sequel to Promises. I hope you guys enjoy this one. Thanks for reading!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Promises

Life had changed in so many ways for Damon after he kept his promise to Y/N. Compelling away her memories from her had been one of the hardest things to do. And after he compelled her, they talked a few more hours before she finally walked out the door, leaving him alone.

The days after left several of the others confused and left with more questions than answers. Damon explained as best as he could without revealing their reasons for doing so. “I made a promise to Y/N and last night I kept it. She’s gone, so leave it at that.” He’d tell the others anytime they asked throughout the next day.

Y/N was like a growing part of the family to the group. While Stefan had his humanity turned off, even he questioned why Y/N had wanted to be set free like that. Damon never responded for the most part. The guilt he felt over the next few months had proved Y/N had been right.

And as she continued to be right as the months turned into years, all Damon wanted to do was call her and apologize. But it was never that simple to do. It wasn’t like Damon could call her up and tell her what he needed to. He compelled years of her memories away, just like she asked, and she wouldn’t have any idea who he was or why he was apologizing for. He knew the only way to do that was to go and see her in person, remove the compulsion for a few hours, so she’d hear the words he’d have to say.

Unfortunately, he never could bring himself to. Not after he’d finally gotten together with Elena. There was always something that made the idea of the trip out to Y/N be placed on the back burner. And even though Y/N wasn’t waiting for him, he felt a bit more guilt seep into him each time.

His world had changed, that was evident. From finally getting Klaus to leave town, Silas, and even dying and dealing with Kai, his life was a whole ‘nother world away from the life he used to have with Y/N. Especially now, as he ran his fingers over the lid of Elena’s casket.

“You should go see her.” Elena said moments before she wanted to say goodbye to Damon.

“Who?” He asked with furrowed brows. His mind only focused on the woman in front of him.

“Y/N.” Elena said,  giving him a small smile. “I know you Damon. There’s this guilt that you feel for what happened between you two. It wouldn’t hurt to go and see her. Spend some time with her while I’m gone.”

His memory rang with Elena’s voice. That had been weeks ago and he still couldn’t bring himself to leave. But with how everyone was beginning to leave Mystic Falls, he knew it was probably time for him to do what he needed to. With one last touch of the casket, he was gone.

_____

Getting to Y/N’s hometown was easy. It was just a matter of finding where she had gone to during their time apart that would have been the harder part. But after simply asking a random stranger in town, he learned that Y/N now owned the bar she used to work at when they had first met.

Damon stood in front of the bar and all he could see were the memories of when he had first walked into this place. The glimpse of memories that left a lasting impression on his mind. The night he met Y/N had been one of the best nights in his existence. But now, it had been just a distant memory.

The sign that hung over the bar had changed. There wasn’t the obnoxious blinking sign that he had first seen. This time it had been replaced by Y/N’s nickname as it illuminated the front steps towards the bar.

The dark green paint that once covered the building had been replaced with a brown. One that Y/N had once said she would paint this place if the boss had ever let her take over. And by the looks of things, she had done just that. It made him wonder what had changed about her even more, causing him to take a step inside.

Damon walked into the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd as he made his way towards the bar. While he was making his way back to Mystic Falls, he figured a stop for a few drinks and a bite to eat wouldn’t have hurt. A little snatch, eat and erase wouldn’t hurt anyone tonight.

His eyes landed on the bartender as she laughed away with a group of people sitting at the bar. From what he could pick up on, they were friends of hers, asking her to leave work and head to a party with them. But she refused.

As he sat down, he hadn’t missed the way her eyes moved over towards him before looking back to her friends. But when she looked over at him, it lasted longer than a few moments. Telling her friends she’d catch up with them after her shift, she made her way over to him.

“What can I get you?” She asked with a smile pulling at her lips as she looked at him.

Damon’s eyes took in the emptiness as he stepped into the bar. It was the complete opposite of what he remembered it to be. Then again, it was earlier in the day, and he hadn’t expected the place to be open. But when the door gave way, he walked in.

“Oh, I thought I locked that.” Y/N’s voice reached his ears, causing him to turn his attention towards the staff entrance for the kitchen as she walked out. “We don’t open for a few more hours.”

Time had been good to Y/N. Even though she was older compared to the last time he saw her, she still looked amazing. The small part of him that still loved her was kicking himself in the ass for letting her walk out the door. But the other part of him that loved Elena told him this was the closure he needed.

“I apologize.” He said with a small smile. “I was told this place had the best Y/N burger in the world.” He watched as her eyes lit up at that. “I couldn’t wait until later.”

“I don’t know. What is good on the menu?” Damon asked and it caused Y/N to chuckle.

“Drink wise, we’ve got a hell of a stash. Boss man likes to keep us stocked with the finest. My favorite is the top shelf bourbon.” She said with a nod.

A smirk pulled at Damon’s lips at the mention of her enjoying bourbon. “I will definitely take a glass of that.” He said with a nod. “And what about the food?”

“Rumor has it the bartender makes the best burger in the world.” Y/N said with a grin pulling at her lips.

“What is this burger called?” Damon asked curiously.

“Y/N’s burger.” She said with a confident smile.

It was then that Damon took notice of her name tag on her shirt, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I take it when anyone asks for this burger of yours, you go into the kitchen and whip it up yourself.”

“If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be my burger.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Alright I’ll take it.” He said with a nod. “If it’s not the best burger I’ve had, that bourbon tab I’m about to open is on you.”

Y/N shook her head and chuckled. “And what happens if it is the best burger you’ve tasted?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you can cut me off and take my money.” He joked, causing her to laugh once more.

“Alright, stranger. Be pared to have your taste buds blown away.” She said before heading towards the staff entrance.

“I haven’t made those in years.” Y/N noted as she tucked a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

Damon hadn’t missed how the lights above them caught on the ring on her finger as she did so. There was a slight sting in his chest as he saw it. While what they had been all in the past now, and he was happily with Elena, it didn’t stop him from wondering what life would have been like if he hadn’t fallen for Elena.

But whatever images that came to mind were replaced quickly with thoughts of him and Elena. And that reminded him of why they were currently in this situation. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch as he fell for Elena. They created an out for each other and she took it when she needed it.

Not once did he blame her for that decision. But the guilt of it all still ate him away. Elena had been right. Even if she was currently sleeping away with the spell, she had been right. Slowly but surely he was getting the closure he needed.

He watched as she thought for a moment before she gestured for a seat at the bar. “Seeing as you’ve brought up my burger, I can’t turn you away.”

He chuckled and walked over to the bar while she walked around it and placed a napkin on the bar. “You technically could.” He said with a small smirk pulling at his lips.

“A stranger coming into my bar and asking for a burger that I haven’t made in a handful of years,” The familiar smirk Damon had known her to wear pulled at her lips. “It sounds like a challenge to make it again. Anything to drink while I get to cooking?”

“Your best top shelf bourbon you’ve got.” He said with a nod of his head.

Y/N eyed him for a moment. There was a sense of familiarity at this. While her mind couldn’t quite place why this had felt familiar, she went with it. Nothing felt uncomfortable for her, if anything, there was a comfort feeling the moment he walked in. “Isn’t it a little early for hitting the hard stuff?”

He chuckled. “Maybe it is. But something tells me I’m going to need it.”

Her brow raised. “Expecting something horrible to happen later today?”

He sighed softly. “I’m hoping to work up the courage to talk to an old friend of mine.”

“I take it you two haven't spoken to each other in a while if you are heading straight for the liquid courage.” It was an observation and Y/N, with all of her bartender experience, was an open ear for the stranger in front of her.

“Not since she walked out my door a few years ago.” His eyes met hers in that moment. His heart picked up as he thought about removing the compulsion. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help himself. “This will only be temporary, but you’re going to remember everything I’ve taken away from you.”

Y/N’s face fell as the compulsion took over. Everything she asked Damon to take away from her had come flooding back. From the night he walked into the bar for the first time, their time together as they fell in love. The good and the bad times came back to her. Along with the very reason that she had Damon compel her in the first place.

A gasp left her lips as she took in Damon before her. Her eyes filled with tears as her mind tried to accommodate the world she had been living in and the life that the compulsion had kept hidden from her. But this is what she wanted. This was what she needed. She just never expected Damon to come see her at some point.

“Damon.” She said as her lips trembled slightly.

“Hey, Y/N/N.” He said giving her a smile.

“It’s been years.” She said as she ran her hand along her arm. “I didn’t think-” She stopped herself trying to find the right words. “When I said if you needed some time away to come find me, I didn’t think you really would.”

“I didn’t think I would either.” He admitted. “But Elena said I should come here and see you.” Y/N’s eyebrow raised and it caused Damon to chuckle. “Mystic Falls isn’t the same since you left. There’s been so many things that happened. One of those things being a rather annoying witch from the Gemini coven that put Elena into what we’ve been calling the Sleeping Beauty Curse. Before I stopped visiting her, she mentioned that I should see you.”

“Why?” She asked, curiously.

“Because you were right.” He said with a nod as he kept his eyes on her. “When you left, it wasn’t easy to let you go. Part of me wanted to follow you out the door and go with you. The other part knew you’d hate me if I broke my promise to Elena. So I stayed. She told me that the guilt I felt would probably go away once I talked to you.”

“You two ended up together.” It wasn’t a question, but Damon nodded once more. “How’d Stefan take that?”

“He wasn’t happy about it. Which is understandable, dating the woman he believed to be his epic love was like a kick to a puppy.” He hadn’t missed the way her eyes saddened as she listened.

“I know that feeling.” She huffed as she looked around the bar. “But with the compulsion I was able to start over.”

“I’ve noticed.” Damon said as he gestured to her hand. “Must have been someone waiting for you when you came back.”

She chuckled as she shook her head. “I actually met him on the plane ride home from Mystic Falls. We got married two years ago.” She bit down on her lip as she looked at Damon, watching his facial expressions as she spoke. “I have a son, and I know you get a laugh out of this, but through my compelled mind, I somehow named him after you.”

Damon’s eyebrow rose. “You named him after me?”

She nodded her head. “His name is Damon. I had come across it in a baby name book and there was just something I couldn’t shake about that name. Even being compelled, you had some influence in my life that I have just noticed.” She chuckled to herself.

A smirk pulled at his lips. “Don’t tell your husband that.”

A grin pulled on her face. “I don’t expect to. Cause you said so yourself, this is only temporary.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Unless you don’t want me to take it away again.”

She shook her head quickly. “I stand by my decision to be compelled.”

Her words had actually hurt him. He didn’t think they could, but they had. That part of him deep down inside hoped he’d get his best friend back after tonight. But here she was saying she preferred the life she made while being compelled.

Seeing the look of hurt form on Damon, Y/N sighed. “I would happily keep you from making me forget. But there are some things that I need the compulsion for. One being that I still love you. The compulsion keeps that at bay. And without it, I’d be tempted to walk out this bar with you and be the friend that you need during this time. But that wouldn’t be fair to my husband or even my son. And it wouldn’t be fair to me.”

“I get it.” Damon said with a nod. And he had understood what she was saying. Coming years after like he did wasn’t going to make her want to drop everything to be the friend he needed. A thought crossed his mind and a small smile pulled at his lips. “One day I’ll have what you have. Once Elena wakes, I’ll be able to take the cure and have a human life with her.”

“There’s a cure?” Y/N asked surprised.

“I did mention there was a lot you missed out on, Y/N/N.” He said as his smile turned into a grin. “There is in fact a cure to vampirism and I’m going to take it.”

“That’s a complete 180 from the speech you’ve once made with me.” Y/N was happy for Damon. There was once a time where she thought she’d drop everything to become a vampire for the man she was looking at right in front of her. And now, he was willing to become human for Elena. That was something she believed to be special.

“Things sure have changed.” He noted.

“Yes they have.” She agreed. “Completely different from the last time you were in here for both of us.”

“You did exactly what you wanted to.” He said giving her a smile. “Saw that you painted the place.”

She chuckled. “Boss man was selling and I had a generous donor that managed to infiltrate my bank accounts. Thank you by the way, that was nice of you.”

Damon shrugged. “I figured that if I didn’t come and see you, I could at least feel less guilty by sending something.”

She shook her head slightly. “There is nothing to feel guilty about, Damon. We knew there was a possibility that we wouldn’t work out. And you kept your promise when it came time to it. That’s all I can ask for.”

Damon sat up straighter as he took in her words. “And you’ll be ready to lose it all over again?”

She thought about it for a moment before she nodded her head. “Yeah, because at least now deep down I will know that you’re doing okay out there. And when Elena wakes up, you’ll be able to live your human life with her.” a smile pulled at her lips. “And if I’m old and senile when it happens, still stop by and tell me all about it.”

Damon chuckled. “That’s a promise I can keep.”

“Good.” She said with nod. “Now how about that burger?”

Damon shook his head. “You don’t have to, I was just making conversation to get you to let me stay in here and talk to you.”

Y/N shrugged. “Even so, I can’t turn away a customer when he’s come into my bar.” She turned away from him and went to the wall of liquor behind her. Grabbing the Bourbon from the top shelf, she placed it in front of him with a glass. “It’s on me this time.” She promised as she walked towards the kitchen.

Damon took a bite into the burger and as the mix of ingredients hit his tongue, a satisfied moan left his lips. He had never tasted something this good before, aside from blood. How a human could come up with something like this made him wish for a simple moment that he could try this as a human to see how much different it would to him.

A satisfied smirk pulled at Y/N’s lips as she watched him take several more bites out of the burger. “So does that mean I win the bet?”

Damon rolled his eyes, but nodded, unable to speak for a few moments with the food in his mouth. Once he swallowed it down, he spoke. “Now I need to know what you put in this.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s my secret recipe. I don’t share with anyone.”

“Maybe I can convince it out of you.” He said with a smirk pulling at his lips.

Y/N leaned in, her own smirk matching his. “I highly doubt that, I’m not easily persuaded.”

His eyebrow raised. “Is that a challenge.”

Y/N shrugged. “You have until last call to convince me. And it’s a Friday night. This place is about to get a whole lot busier.”

“This tastes just like I remember it.” Damon said with bite full in his mouth causing Y/N to chuckle.

“It’s the secret recipe.” She said with a smile. “It does the trick every time.”

“You never did give me that recipe.” He said as he placed the burger down on the plate.

“That’s because you never convinced me. By the time last call came, you’d yet to do so.” Y/N said with a shrug.

“Now I need to know what it was that made it so hard to convince you. I didn’t even use compulsion to get it out of you.” He asked curiously.

The smile on her face fell at his words, before she sighed. “Something told me that wouldn’t be the last time I saw you. Throughout that night, I watched as women came and went by your side and you ignored them time and time again.”

“It was easy to do with you being there.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The last time that happened was with Katherine. You had made me forget all about her that night.” He reached his hand over and placed it on top of Y/N’s. “And I thank you for that.”

A sad smile pulled at her lips. “I enjoyed every minute of it. Even up until that last night. That talk we had as we packed up my bag, I needed it. More than you will ever know.”

Damon hadn’t missed the way her eyes glassed over as tears formed. His hand tightened around hers for a moment before letting it go and moving his hand back to his side. “It was the least I could do.” His eyes wandered over to the clock behind her as he sighed. “You can always back out this time around.”

She shook her head slightly. “As much as I want to, we both know I can’t.”

Damon understood and nodded his head. “Ready?”

Unlike the last time, Y/N wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for Damon to say goodbye. Some part of her knew this was the last time she was going to see him. This had been for closure. Not just for him, but for her as well. While the memories and the feelings were still fresh in her mind from the removal of the compulsion, she knew this was needed. Saying goodbye this time would be the last time.

“No.” She said as her eyes met his. “But I have to be. And I’ll take it.”

Damon’s eyes met hers, and he took in a deep breath. This time it wasn’t as hard to say goodbye as it was the first time. It hurt him, he would admit that. But he had spent the last several years without her in his life. This visit had given him the closure he needed. He got to see her again and find out how she was doing. That was all he could ask for.

“When I walk out that door,” He said as he begun compelling her. “you’ll forget that it was me that you were talking to. I was just a stranger in the night that needed a bite to eat before getting back on the road.” He stopped for a moment as he thought. “The memories I made you remember, you’ll forget the second I walk out that door. And you’ll continue living the life you have been.”

He pulled his eyes away the moment he felt the faintest tear begin to fill up in his eyes. Y/N blinked a few times as the compulsion took over. A sigh passed her lips knowing it wouldn’t be long before he left.

“One last promise?” She asked.

His eyes came back to her, a surprised expression on his face. “Of course.”

“Stay until last call?” She asked as she bit down on her bottom lip. “One last promise that you’ll keep, and we’ll leave it at that?”

He nodded his head. “You got yourself a promise.” A smile pulling at his lips.

Y/N and Damon had spent the rest of the night talking in between Y/N serving drinks and being the boss that she now was. But it never stopped him from thinking back to that first night, causing a small smirk to pull at his lips.

“No,” Y/N said with a grin on her face as she shook her head. “You never once convinced me.”

“Oh, come on.” He said as he lifted his hand up. “I have given you several reasons why I would be the best candidate for knowing your recipe.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as she began cleaning off the bar. The last few guests were enjoying their last drinks, making the bar almost empty. “Saying you’ll never tell a soul, doesn’t count. Nor does saying my recipe would be immortalized because I highly doubt that is possible.”

“Oh it is very possible.” He said wagging his eyebrows. “You just don’t know the kind of life I’ll live.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Just face it, you’re not as convincing as you thought you’d be. You’re just going to have to live without it.” She shrugged.

Damon chuckled and looked around. He noticed that the last few stragglers were getting up to leave. “I should probably head on out now. I’ve got to hit the road in a few hours.”

While Y/N kept a straight face, she was actually saddened by the thought of not seeing him again. “Thanks for stopping by and trying out the burger.”

He gave her a smile. “It was my pleasure.”

He pulled himself out of his seat, getting ready to leave. Y/N put a few cups back on the rack as she watched him. Just as he began walking away, an idea popped into her head.

“Hey, stranger.” She called out to him.

Damon chuckled and turned back to her. “Damon.”

A grin pulled at her lips. “Damon.” She repeated. “Promise you’ll come back for the recipe?”

Damon had been caught off guard by the question. But something inside him knew he’d back. “That’s a promise, Y/N/N.”

As the last customer got ready to leave Damon began collecting his jacket off the back of the chair. Y/N had just got off the phone with her husband telling him she’d be home after closing up with in the next few minutes. Her son fell asleep earlier in the night without any problems. A smile had pulled at Damon’s lips as he overheard the conversation.

“Does he make you happy?” Damon asked.

Y/N nodded her head quickly. “Extremely. He’s great to my son and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You and me, we are where we’re meant to be.”

That made Damon smile at her. “We are.” He agreed as he nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

“Always will.” She promised as tears built up in her eyes. She watched as he began walking towards the exit. Once his hand reached the door, Damon looked back at her. A sigh left both of their lips as he had. “Bye, Damon.”

“Bye, Y/N.” He said with one last look before walking out.

With in a blink of an eye, Y/N went on with her usual work routine on closing up. Her mind thinking it was just another night at work. Nothing had been out of the ordinary, and she couldn’t wait to get home to her family.

Damon watched from the window and it hadn’t gone unnoticed when the compulsion took over her mind. Sticking his hand in his jacket, he watched her for a few minutes. As he did, his hand felt the paper with in it, causing him to pull it out.

In the dim light, he could easily see Y/N’s writing on the back of a folded to go menu.

Thank you for keeping your promise. Not just now. You even kept your first promise. So the last thing I can do before I forget altogether is fulfill that promise for the both of us. Here’s that recipe for the famous Y/N’s burger.

Below that had been a list of ingredients and instructions. A smile pulled at his lips as he tucked the menu back into his pocket and made his way to his Camaro. 

The guilt that Damon had carried before making this trip had no longer existed. And just as Y/N said the night Damon first compelled her, this had been the last page of the chapter of their lives together before starting a new one on their own. 

Always & Forever Tag: @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @alka16555 @hellotvshowtrash

If you would like to be added to, or taken off, the taglist please let me know. ♥

#The Vampire Diaries #Promises #Promises Kept #Damon Salvatore #Damon Salvatore x Reader #Damon Salvatore x you #reader insert #One shot #More like two shot #I made a sequel #Damon Salvatore imagines #Damon Salvatore one shots #Damon Salvatore fics #Damon Salvatore fanfic #The Vampire diaries fics #The vampire Diaries fanfiction #TVD #The originals #TO

[elephantsneedwater]

I finally wrote something about my V and River. I hadn’t really planned it just allowed it to flow. I think it’s a great set up for a deeper story. Please, let me know what you think. I would love to hear any and all feedback!!

ACT 1

———————————————————————-

I clenched the steering wheel and swallowed hard. I hadn’t been back in almost two years, had to take time for myself- especially now that my time was up and passed, and I was still alive. The morning sun reflected off my cyberware decorating my fingers. It’s been months since I’ve had to use my mantis blades, and in a way I liked that. If I held the wheel any tighter I might just break it.

I couldn’t explain it, Hellman had conveyed a very painful and depressing last six months but after my body had effectively shut down and I expected myself to never wake up, my eyes opened the next morning. The recovery didn’t last as nearly as long as the sickness, but I stayed to myself- with the help of Panam, of course.

She allowed me to stay with her and the clan while I recovered, knowing I was never going to actually stay. I had already walked away from the Nomad life once, I wasn’t going to go back to it. Not when I had so much to live for in Night City.

With a flick of a finger I rolled down the window and allowed the dessert heat to flit through my ginger hair. Long wisps of hair flew around in the wind. Tucking a piece behind my ear, turning down another dirt road, I wondered if he would like how long my hair was now.

The train tracks alerted me to how close I was to my destination and I slowed my car down turning into the lightly populated area. The same woman who sold overpriced clothing stood in the beaming sun by her rack while the rest of the small town, if it could even be called that, meandered about.

My heart was pounding and I chugged at the water bottle I left on the seat next to me. Mouth suddenly dry. I came to a stop a bit away, knowing my car wouldn’t be recognized. Shutting the engine off I surveyed the trailer. Toys of all sorts, splayed across the sandy ground. His grill was nowhere in sight and I wondered why, Summer was just starting.

Leaning my forehead against the wheel I bit my bottom lip. This was a bad idea. You stopped speaking to him. Cut him out. He kept calling and then eventually you stopped hearing the ringtone you picked out for him. Why come back now? What if he’s moved on? What if he doesn’t care?

But that was a chance I had to make. I didn’t realize how much I needed him until I had stopped thinking about him. It had hit me like a ton of bricks, my heart felt heavy, head was foggy. I had thought I was getting sick again, that my time was finally up, I was so low I even wished I could speak to Johnny.

I wanted to talk to the one person who was the reason I was dying just so he could tell me what I already knew. I was lonely. Sitting back I glanced at the time on my dash.

9:34 AM.

He’s probably be back around lunch time. Always liked to cook for the kids. Rubbing my hands over my dark jeans I wiped the nervous sweat off. Flexed my feet in my worn sneakers and grabbed for my large sweater. It was his. He had given it to me one night while I was staying over. Said it was his dad’s. I didn’t want to take it- knowing the story behind his parents- but he insisted, said: “It was his favorite. You’re my favorite. It’s only right you should have it.”

His scent was light practically gone on the fabric, I closed my eyes and leaned back allowing the warm wind to list me to sleep. I could wait a few more hours.

——————

A loud unmistakable rumbling engine jolted me awake and I snapped my head to see his truck pulling up closer to his home. The door opened and I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

It was now or never, V.

Get out of the car.

My eyes were glued to his large retreating back, he had on a white button down and dark brown slacks. PI business must be booming, I thought. His favorite boots were still his go to, they kicked up loose sand as he walked to the front door.

The door creaked loudly as I pulled myself out of the car. I tied the sweater around my waist, adjusted the strap of my favorite shirt and walked quickly towards him.

“River.”

The moment I spoke he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, a dark brown eye widened in surprise at the sight of me and his lips parted, he was speechless.

“Nice calves.” I chuckled crossing my arms at him.

Mentally I knew that was a horrible way to say hello after so long, but it was honestly the first thing I could think of.

River just stared at me, fists clenched. His muscles strained against his shirt as if he was fighting himself to not approach me. I could see the hesitation and excitement in his face.

“Valerie?” His voice was soothing and deep, I wanted him to say my name again but as I opened my mouth the front door opened and a woman with black curly hair and an expensive dress came walking down the rickety steps, her heels unbothered by the tightly packed ground.

“River, Joss is ready.” She called to him and I noticed his shoulders tense.

Blinking for the first time since we met eyes he looked over his shoulder at the woman his voice oddly soft as he spoke.

“I’ll be right there, Lila.”

A deep dread filled my stomach and my body grew hot in a panic. Who was this? Was this why he was so dressed up?

My eyes flickered back and forth between the two and I watched Lila close the distance between them, her hand coming up to press against his back.

River’s gaze never left me and in them I could see his conflict.

“Oh, is this a new client? I thought you were staying away from the job for the next two days.” Lila’s electric blue eyes scanned over my body and I suddenly wished I dressed less casual.

I looked like a dud compared to her. A smirk appeared across my lips and I cocked my head.

“Not working? River would never,” I taunted keeping my eyes on her.

Her jaw clenched and her smile was forced, “Yes, well all his clients know he has his rehearsal dinner this week. I’m a bit surprised you’re even here.” She seethed, respectfully.

“Lila.” River said turning to her, “She’s not a client. An old friend. Tell Joss we’ll leave in ten.”

Lila nodded, glancing between the two of us before planting a kiss to his cheek before turning back to the house.

River and I stood in silence waiting for the door to click shut. It finally did, the sound lingering in the air it was deafening. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably as he stared at me. I knew I looked different and I knew I was the one who stopped speaking to him, but seeing her made me wish I had died and didn’t have to witness the man I loved in the arms of another. With a quickness I turned on my heel and briskly walked back to my car. My keys were biting into my palm and as I reached for my car door, felt the warm metal against my skin did he speak.

“Friday. Noon. Where we first met.”

I caught his eye and the small wistful smile across his lips before he turned around and children’s laughter filled the air as Dorian and Monique came rushing out to greet their Uncle. I ducked into the car, blasted my radio to drown out their voices and peeled away my foot heavy on the gas.

I needed a drink and I knew just the place that would serve me until I couldn’t lift my head anymore.

#cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #river ward #v x river #Female V #Valerie x River #my work

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (1/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

a/n: Hi! I know what you’re thinking… I’ve seen this story before, haven’t I? Yes. Yes you have. (Though, if you’re new to this story, hello and welcome, please enjoy!)

I deleted it a while ago thinking it wasn’t fair to leave it up unfinished if I had no plans to continue writing. But, literally out of the blue the other day, inspiration hit me and I was able to actually finish it! Can you believe it? I can’t.

So, rather than keeping it for myself and my own enjoyment, I thought I’d share with anyone who still wanted to see how this tale ends. I know it had a bit of a following and I still get questions about it to this day.

As an added benefit of this reposting, I’ve made some grammatical changes (because sometimes you re-read and you go, wow yikes I messed that up lol) and added some extra bits here and there to add some color and zing. May as well, right?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! And I swear it’s going to be finished this time. I have an actual ending written and ready to publish!

If you just want to read the new parts, tune back in for chapters 14 and onward :)

Love you friends! <3

///

One

He slams the front door closed and it squeaks on its hinges, swinging and clattering against its cracked and broken frame.

He shoves his fist into his jacket pocket, straightening his gaze ahead of him with a white huff of his breath in the frigid air to mingle with the fog that has descended onto the island.

His boots crunch on the rocks as he carries himself onward and he takes note of all the things he has in store for his day. It isn't much, never is, and he curses his sailor's blood for the ungodly hours.

The ground is still damp from last night's storm and the air still smells of it. It had been an unruly thing, the storm, and he'd woken several times at the sound of lightning spiking nearby.

As he walks toward the lighthouse, he shifts his gaze to the ocean that's lapping up against the shore nearby. The water sprays at him and he grits his teeth, breathing in salty gusts of air through his nose.

He narrows his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks the instant he notices a lump lying at the shore, the foaming water washing over every few moments.

The blood drains from his face and his heart begins to pound just a little bit faster, a throbbing beginning to sound in his ears.

He stares for a moment longer, then shifts his gaze a little further up the shore to a brown basket nestled in seaweed and wet sand.

Curiouser and curiouser.

His brow furrows slightly and he pulls his hand free from his jacket so he can comb through his hair nervously.

He starts for the two washed up mysteries quickly, breaths coming out in nervous, shaking huffs, and when he reaches the blue lump, he kneels down beside it.

It's a woman.

She appears to be a few years his junior with sopping wet blonde hair and fair skin. When he examines her, she's breathing, but she's passed out cold. There’s blood oozing from a wound in her forehead and he's sure something's wrong with her leg, because it's twisted obscurely.

He winces a little, unsure of what to do. He's about to stand and lift her over his shoulder to help her when a high-pitched squeaking and crying emanates from a little further down the beach in the brown basket.

He can hardly hear the ocean now with how loudly his heart races in his ears.

He rises slowly, cursing under his breath as he makes his way toward it.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, looking down at the basket.

There is a baby, not a small baby, but a baby nonetheless, lying inside, wrapped tight in a blanket, squirming and crying. It's cheeks are red and it looks absolutely miserable.

He can't blame him. A day like today leaves much to be desired.

Killian Jones crouches down beside the child and holds out his arms, glaring briefly at his hook for a left hand, then, with a shake of his head, he reaches in and carefully lifts the child into the crook of his arm.

Having never held a screaming baby before in his entire life, he hasn't a clue of what to do. He bites down on his tongue and grimaces.

"Quiet down," he tries, "You'll get nowhere crying like that."

The child, miraculously, stops.

Killian sighs. "Let's get you inside then. Can't have you out to freeze, hm?"

He stands again, reaching down for the basket with his hand before turning to trudge back to his residence. Worry fills him from head to toe as he looks at the woman again.

Since she's out of it, she can wait until he's settled the child down. He thinks he knows better than to leave such a small human being out in the cold of the morning with no nourishment or comfort.

The baby squirms in his hold and he winces again in fear, because it isn't as if he has a firm hold on the fragile being. He finds his pace quickening almost instinctively.

Killian pulls the door open with his index finger and it slams behind him loud enough that it makes the child cry again. He starts hushing it as he sets the basket on the table in his kitchen, knocking over a bottle of beer from last night in the process.

He doesn't bother to clean up his mess, deciding to take the child into the small living room off of the kitchen where he builds a cradle of sorts out of blankets and pillows he can find.

He settles the fussing child down into the center of the mess and goes to stoke at the fire that's dying out in the fireplace. While it's warming up, he goes into the kitchen for milk.

He thinks that's what babies eat, right?

He isn't sure if it should be cold or warm and hesitates with the milk glass for a few moments, struggling to even find something to use that will fit in the child’s mouth. He decides on using a cleaned beer bottle for the time being and warms up the milk in the microwave before pouring it into the bottle and carrying it into the living room.

"Here we are," he says gruffly, setting himself down next to the lump in his couch. He awkwardly shifts the baby and uses his thumb to cut off the flow as he settles the lip against the child's mouth. "In we go. You're hungry, aye?"

It takes a few moments and some of the milk dribbles out on the baby's chin, but eventually, all of the milk goes straight into the hungry child's stomach, the baby's eyes falling closed as it continues to suckle.

Killian figures he'll have to find something to use as diaper cloths. He'll do that after bringing the woman inside.

It's a mystery to him how two people could wash up on his island.

It isn’t as if he’s in a highly trafficked area. It's not even in a shipping lane. In fact, ships rarely come along- only for his monthly supplies.

After the boy finishes the milk, Killian puts the beer bottle on the floor and looks down at the child with a furrowed brow.

He hasn't spent nearly enough time around children to know what to do with him now that he's eaten, and Killian sighs as he decides to strip him of the damp blanket and outfit he's sporting.

Killian tucks the boy into the pillows and blankets again, covering him up so he thinks he's warm, and then carries the wet and cold items over to the fire, hanging them to dry.

With one final check on the sleepy child, he nods to himself and zips up his coat to go grab the mystery woman.

He isn't a horrible man. He likes to think himself rather good on his better days. But he isn't a man who enjoys the company of others. In fact, one of the reasons he's still on this island is because he can't stand himself around others.

He can't trust himself around others.

Killian takes a sharp breath of the cold air and lets it back out of his nose, eyes set determinedly on the blue and yellow lump on the shore.

When he reaches her, he sighs, balling up his hand tightly into a fist before leaning down to scoop her up and onto his shoulder. He's careful with his hook and he grunts a bit when her weight is added to him. She's not very heavy, but he's not used to carrying much weight, so he is quick when he makes his way back to his home.

He moves with expertise through the small residence to his bedroom, the only bedroom, and settles her down on his bed.

She's absolutely soaked to the bone and incredibly cold to the touch. Her blonde hair fans around her head, some of the strands sticking to her peaceful cheeks and forehead.

She's still blissfully unaware of anything that's happened, so Killian hesitates for a moment longer before deciding to start the fire in his room.

As soon as the flames breathe warmth into the small room, he goes to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out blankets to cover her with.

He decides that he should take her dress off to try to avoid hypothermia, so he takes a deep breath, leaves the blankets at her feet, and sets to peeling the wet article from her flesh.

Luckily for him, she's out enough that she doesn't wake as he's taking her britches off, and he purposefully covers her with blankets before he goes to find her something of his to wear in place of her dress while it dries.

Carefully, Killian puts a long sleeved shirt over her top and a pair of loose-fitting pants over her bottom, then slides a pair of socks over her feet and covers her with three blankets, ensuring her entire body is tucked safely and securely beneath them.

Her teeth have begun chattering, a new development that’s somewhat assuring.

In the process of slipping the pants on, he'd noticed bruising around her right knee and his thoughts easily drift to wondering what could've happened to her, but he can't know until she wakes, so he stores his curiosity and continues to ensure she's sufficiently warmed.

He figures he'll have to tend to her wounds later when she's awake and can tell him more and decides to go check on the child instead while she sleeps.

Killian leaves his bedroom after draping the woman's clothes over the fire to dry. His boots clump along the hardwood floor noisily and he sighs as he settles onto the couch beside the sleeping babe.

If there was anything he'd imagined his day as being like, it wasn't this.

He was supposed to check on the lightbulbs and make note of what needed fixing after the storm, get started on the list, and then drink himself to sleep after a supper of whatever he might scrounge up.

He isn't sure he can just leave the child and the woman here, not when they might wake up at any moment, so he watches the tiny being as he breathes before nodding in affirmation and carrying the tentative baby bottle into the kitchen.

Killian goes about fixing a stew from what he's got in the pantry and figures a way to feed the child with things in his cabinets.

He's sure the woman will be quick to mother him. Perhaps the child belongs to her- he isn't sure.

And anyway, he won't be stuck with them for very long. Just four weeks before the supply ship comes and he'll send them out and away from him again. He'll just have to deal with them in the meanwhile.

He settles back against the cabinets as the stew cooks on the stove, thinking about what he'll do about sleeping arrangements for the coming few weeks, when he hears the child erupt into a screaming cry.

He springs to work, grabbing the already heated milk from the stovetop and bringing the new bottle with him so he can comfort the infant if it's what it needs.

Killian sits beside the lump of blankets and pillows and lifts the child, whose fussing comes to hiccups as he settles him into his arms.

He frowns at the baby. "'s that all?"

He doesn't enjoy holding the child. It's awkward and uncomfortable and it reminds him all too much of a past he'd very much like to forget, so he sets the boy down again and is greeted by his wails once more.

He growls a little, shaking his head.

"You don't understand," Killian says sternly. "I can't hold you."

For a moment, they're sitting there in a stare-off of sorts, and Killian locks his jaw, shaking his head again before opening his mouth to reprimand the shrieking child when his bedroom door opens.

His gaze shifts immediately to the woman, who looks pale and sickly, leaning against the door jamb with all of her weight.

He stands, holding his arms out as she staggers a little.

She swallows and opens her mouth, looking down at the screaming bundle of flailing limbs on the couch.

Killian hastily lifts the boy into his hold to quiet him again and it works. It's overwhelming to hear his cries, to say the least, and when he moves to go to her, she follows him with her emerald eyes.

"Where am I?" she asks, voice wavering.

He shakes his head. "Don't worry yourself with that. You need to get back into bed."

Killian sets the child down with a wince of anticipation, receiving what he prepared for when the child bursts out in upset. He herds the woman back into the room and watches her cautiously as she limps back to the bed.

She groans and pain creases her forehead when she lies back down. "I heard... crying."

He nods and somehow tucks her back in under the blankets.

"Aye. Apologies. The child appears to have quite the set of lungs." She blinks a few times and he finds himself without words. "Is he… um, yours?"

The woman shakes her head, wincing a little. "No."

Killian runs his eyes down to the base of the bed and shakes his head again, a sigh slipping from his lips at the development. He looks back to her face.

"I'm Emma."

Killian hesitates, shifting a bit on his feet while he examines her sick face. He doesn't know what to do about her. She's clearly running a fever and it's not like he can force her to rest if she doesn't want to.

"Emma, why don't you get some sleep? You don't look well."

She scoffs, closing her eyes. "There was a storm and I fell from the top deck of the ship. I think I broke my leg."

She winces, then reaches down to pull the blankets away.

Bloody maddening woman.

She examines the leg with pain written in her features and he mentally groans, because he certainly is no doctor and she's stranded here with him for another few weeks.

"I could... try and set it," he tells her quietly. Her gaze flits over to him and he sees apprehension in those solid green eyes. "I set many bones in my time in the navy."

She studies him for a second before falling back with a loud sigh.

"Fine."

He eyes her warily, unmoving.

From the other room, the child is still screeching and sobbing and it's making his blood boil angrily, because he is no longer on his own. He no longer has the stability and security of being by himself. He has two people, two needy people, that he's responsible for.

In all of his time as caretaker of the lighthouse, it's been task after task and menial chores, followed by drinking and television- if the damn satellite worked.

It gets lonely, but he's better that way. He can't hurt anyone if he's by himself.

As his hand settles against her bare leg, he searches for the break. He gives her no warning, which in hindsight was a bloody awful idea, and she screams when he sets the bone with a loud crack.

Two screaming strangers in his tiny home on an island in the middle of nowhere. Bloody perfect.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan #dark gray #my writing #also a note i don't tag people on here #it feels weird to do that to me #so please don't ask! #and then i ran away because i have posting nerves #it's been so long!

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Day 23 [Sick/Survivor’s Guilt]

Ω

 Crosshair cursed as Cal went limp in his arms, the boy slumping lifelessly. Omega was right behind him, her eyes slipping closed as she wheezed in pain. Both kids needed his attention, but he could only focus on one of them at a time.

 ‘Damn it! This is why I need my vode here, then we could make sure they were both getting the help they need right now.’ He cursed mentally.

 He laid Cal on the ground and pressed his hand against the boy’s stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. Part of him seethed with anger at the fact that he had given that wretched creature a quick death. Keeping one hand on the wound, he leaned over and started checking Omega over. Spots of crimson bled through her clothes, soaking into the fabric and spreading further as the seconds ticked by. The bite on her leg concerned him the most, as the animal’s fangs were quite long.

 “What happened here-!”

 A woman’s voice had his head snapping up. There was a woman and a few kids now standing before him, horrified expressions on their faces. He moved in front of the downed children, bristling with protective fury. The woman, a Togruta dressed in familiar brown robes, moved into a defensive stance, lightsaber in hand but not yet ignited.

 “Easy,” She started, raising one hand, “I just want to help them.”

 “They would not need your help if you hadn’t stolen them.” He spat venomously.

 A flash of guilt came over the woman’s face. “I know, and I’m sorry. We thought that you were working with the Empire.” She inched a bit closer, and Crosshair’s hands twitched towards his rifle. “But I can help them. If you let me, I can save their lives, but we have to be fast.”

 Crosshair’s eyes flicked towards the wounded children, mentally calculating how much medical supplies they had and if he could even carry both of them back in time to use the supplies before they passed away. His decision was made for him when Omega started shaking and sounding like she was choking. He nodded quickly and scooped Omega and Cal up into his arms. The woman and an older teenage Bothan rushed forward, grabbing the other teens who had been injured during the fight.

 “Follow me.” The Jedi said, and he obeyed without argument.

 They ran through a network of caves until finally stopping in a pristine chamber. A pool of water sat in the middle, surrounded by thick white cots. Crosshair placed each of the kids in his arms on their own cot, turning Omega over on her side. She coughed up a horrible mix of foamy saliva and stomach acid, her sides heaving as she vomited. The sight disturbed Crosshair greatly. Clones didn’t get sick, so if someone was puking their guts out, it was usually because of one of three reasons.

 One, the person had had a bit too much to drink.

 Two, they’d seen something so bad it had turned their stomach.

 Or three, the person was dying.

 Judging by how Omega hadn’t been drinking and had been face down in the dirt for most of the ordeal, that left only the third option.

 “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster ad’ika.” He whispered, rubbing Omega’s back.

 Suddenly, the Jedi was beside him, her hand pressing against Omega’s leg.

 “What’s wrong with her?” He asked.

 “The same disease that drove that animal mad is coursing through her bloodstream. I must remove it before it reaches her heart.” The woman said, closing her eyes.

 Omega whimpered under her touch, and the sound was almost enough to make him turn and attack the Jedi to make her stop touching the girl. But he resisted the urge, knowing that Omega needed this Jedi’s help. Not wanting to be useless, he turned his attention to Cal, peeling up his shirt to examine the wound on his stomach. It was a large laceration, going from the tip of his left hip to the start of the right side of his ribcage. Blood spurted from the wound, sticking to the boy’s clothes and sliding down his pale skin. Crosshair cursed and looked around the room, searching for something to wrap the cut with.

 “Bandages are on the left side of the room. Top drawer.” The Jedi murmured.

 Crosshair got up and retrieved the bandages as quickly as possible, grabbing some clothes as well. He dipped the clothes in the water and began to clean Cal’s wound. Once the blood had been wiped away, he could see that it wasn’t as deep as he had originally feared. It would scar, but the boy wouldn’t need stitches. He carefully wrapped the gauze around Cal’s torso, making sure that it was tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it would restrict his breathing.

 He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, unsure of what to do now.

 “I didn’t know clones could have children.” The Jedi mused, her voice startling Crosshair out of his own thoughts.

 “They’re- they’re not mine. I’m just looking after them.” He said, a bit shocked that she had thought that he was their father. Had he really gone that soft?

 “I knew that Cal wasn’t yours, but with how quickly you moved to protect them, I thought perhaps young Omega here might have been related to you. She has your ferocity.” The woman replied, frowning. “I can sense that she would be willing to kill to protect those she loves.”

 “Is that such a bad thing?” Crosshair questioned, eyeing her but not fully turning to look at her.

 “For someone like her, it can be. She is strong in the Force, unusually so, but she is inexperienced. She has no way of fighting off the temptations of the Dark side, and if she uses her abilities to hurt or kill, she may end up Falling.”

 “Falling?”

 “Falling means you’ve given in to the Dark side. She’s a wildcard, and her raw power makes her dangerous. There are those who would seek her out and drag her down into the dark with them. In the wrong hands, she could become the Galaxy’s worst nightmare.”

 “That won’t happen.” Crosshair growled.

 “I had a feeling you might say that.” The woman smiled. “You’re welcome to stay here while they recover, if you’d like.”

 “Thank you.” He said, knowing that she was taking a risk by having him there.

 She nodded. “I am Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, but please just call me Azeu. There are spare rooms available, or if you’d like, I can set up a bed in here.”

 “I want to stay with them. I need to make sure that they’re okay.” Crosshair said immediately.

 Azeu nodded again. “Omega will need monitoring. Her Force signature is radiating a sense of illness and exhaustion, and I fear that a fever may soon set in.”

 “A fever?” Crosshair arched an eyebrow. “This quickly?”

 “Her immune system is incredibly weak, and she’s practically bleeding stress and pain. This has been a long time coming.” The Jedi sighed, getting to her feet. “I’ve managed to remove the disease, but the puncture wounds are deep. They are the highest risk points for infection, so they’ll need to be checked regularly. I must go check on Tiger and Chex, can you finish applying her bandages?”

 “Sure.” Crosshair said, taking Azeu’s place at Omega’s side.

 “I’ll be back with a fresh set of clothes soon. I’ll be right down the tunnel if you need me.” Azeu said, quietly leaving the cave.

 Crosshair made a noise of acknowledgement as he started to clean the bites on Omega’s leg and ankle. Azeu had cut away part of her pant leg, making it seem like she was wearing shorts on one half and pants on the other. He dabbed at the puncture wounds until his cloth no longer came away bloody, hating how, for most of the time Omega had been around him, she’d been seriously injured or recovering from a major injury.

 “We need to get you some armor, eh shiny?” He joked softly, wrapping the bites gently in gauze. “Where would we even find armor that little, huh?”

 He ran a hand through her hair, smiling when she made a small noise and unconsciously shifted closer to him. Silently, he gently worked out any knots in her hair, occasionally plucking a stray flower petal from her hair. He glanced at them, a small twinge of sadness rippling through him. There had been two flower crowns on the ground when he had leaped down from his vantage point, well made and still mostly intact, if a bit dusty. He hadn’t payed them any mind at the time, too wrapped up in his panic as he tried to save Omega and Cal from bleeding out on the dirt. Thinking on it now, they were probably Omega’s handiwork, as there weren’t any flowers where he had first heard Cal’s voice coming from.

 “We’ll go pick some new ones once you’re better, okay?” He whispered. “But you’ve got to get well first. No running off ‘til we’ve got all of that nastiness out of your system.”

 He turned and looked at Cal, his voice still quiet as he spoke. “And that goes for you too, little jetii.”

 Maker he is going soft.

 It unnerves him slightly; how easily the two children in his care have made him drop his cold exterior. He hasn’t been this open, this vulnerable, since he’d been a small cadet, just barely beginning to learn what his purpose was. Back when he’d been shiny and wide-eyed and new, just like the rest of his vode. Back before the gruelling tests and painful experiments. Back when he had simply been CT-9904, although he didn’t miss the number designation. He’d worn the name his brothers had given him like a badge of honor, as it was something that had been freely given to him, the first thing that had really belonged to him.

 He thinks about that, about names. Omega, although it is not a traditional designation, is still the identifier the Kaminoans had stamped on her medical charts. It’s a name, but is it truly hers? Does she even know that, if she wanted, they would help her find a new name? Would she want a new name? What would it be? Something soft in nature, he thinks. Hunter and Tech had picked picked their names based on their enhancements, but he doesn’t think Force or Sensitive would make a very good name.

 Flower, maybe?

  No, that’s too soft.

 She’s good with her bow, so maybe Sharpshot or… just Bow?

  No, he doesn’t want her to have to be named after her fighting skills or a weapon like so many of his vode are. They were made for war, but he will do everything in his power to keep Omega as far away from it as possible.

 Omega shifts again, and the movement makes him realize that she’s shivering. Crosshair looked around, searching for a blanket. He can’t see any, so he moves to stand up and go look for the Jedi master to ask her where they are. Omega whines pitifully when he moves away, and the sound has him sitting back down right quick. Her face scrunches up in discomfort, and he can hear her murmuring under her breath.

 “Mnh… Wrecker, snap out of it…” She whimpered softly, and Crosshair’s heart breaks.

 He can’t leave her, not when she seems to be getting some form of comfort out of him being there, but he also doesn’t want her to be cold. There’s only two sources of heat in this room, and he’s not going to put her near Cal, not when he’s injured like he is. That left only himself.

 He’s never been the best cuddle buddy, too gangly and thin to be very comfortable to lay on. Tech had been the only one who could ever find him suitable to use as a pillow, the smaller clone curling up near his stomach. However, he’d been told that he ran warmer than his brothers, sometimes reaching fever-levels of heat after a particularly intense combat training session. So if warmth was what Omega needed right now, he’d simply have to make himself as comfortable as possible.

 He shed his armor and set aside his rifle, leaving himself in only his blacks. As if sensing his sudden increase in softness, Omega lunged for his stomach, pressing her face into the taunt muscles. Crosshair coughed quietly, wrapping an arm around her as he eased himself down to the floor. The area around eye was still bruised from when that damnable trooper hit her with his blaster, so he gently nudged her face so that she was resting with her bad eye off of his stomach. She snuggled down into him, sighing softly. Slowly, her shivers subsided, leaving her smiling as she slipped into a more peaceful state.

 Crosshair huffed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The floor was far from comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Shifting, just slightly, making sure that no sharp points were poking Omega, he settled down to sleep. The weight was so familiar, so comforting, he found that, for the first time in years, sleep was coming easily. He blinked tiredly, his breathing slowing down as he relaxed. Lulled by the exhaustion of the day and his own heartbeat, he let his eyelids slip shut.

  Cal’s vision was blurred as he cracked his eyes open, groaning. His torso burned, a thin stripe of agony that stretched across his body. Bleary eyed, he reached out to the Force, searching for Omega. Her Force signature glowed warmly, drawing him in. Pushing himself up, he stumbled over to where she was, letting the Force be his guide. As his eyes adjusted to the now dim light, he spotted Crosshair and Omega lying on the ground, Omega’s face buried in the older clone’s stomach. Still groggy from sleep and unwilling to go looking for Master Mirthver, he laid down on Crosshair’s free side, leaning against his chest as he snuggled up to him. An arm fell over his back, pulling him closer. Cal yawned and closed his eyes again. For as long as he could remember, he’d slept alone, no matter if he had been sick or hurt or afraid. He’d always felt like asking to sleep with his Master would have been against the Code, even if he had just awoken from a terrible nightmare and really needed the comfort.

 Now, as he lay in this cave, cuddled up to a clone that, a few days ago, would have killed him for comfort, he found himself wishing that he had sought out that comfort, taken that time to experience the closeness that he only now realizes that he’s been desperately craving. Tears well in his eyes as he fists part of Crosshair’s outfit, and he knows it’s not because of his wound.

 He misses his Master so much that it hurts. It hurts more than any of his previous injuries combined. The guilt had made him feel like he was made of stone, but for the past few days he hadn’t had a moment to feel guilty, to preoccupied with either being terrified for his and Omega’s life or so filled with joy and warmth that he had been fit to burst. But now? In the stillness and quiet? The gnawing feeling came back, making him curl up into a little ball.

 What was he doing? He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to be comforted. He’d been a terrible padawan, possibly the worst padawan! He’d let his Master die, what kind of person did that? All he’d had to do was be faster, move quicker, think quicker, and yet he’d failed. He’d failed, and then he had been alone, lost and left to mourn amidst the wreckage of a war that would soon come to an end in the worst possible way. When he’d been captured, a part of him had wanted to simply attack, to get them to end his life the same they had ended his Master’s. But the fear that had been coursing through his veins had made him freeze up, to not call to his Master’s lightsaber, which was safely tucked away out of sight.

 He thinks, bleakly, that he might have overcome his fear if he had been thrown into that cell alone.

 Omega had been a burst of starlight in his life, the Force around her curious and untameable. She was unlike any padawan or Jedi he’d ever met, so open and bright. She projected her emotions and made no move to shield her thoughts, having no secrets to keep locked away. Being around her was overwhelming but it was good. It was good because he was so focuses on her that there was no time to think about what had happened, what he’d done. She’d saved him, kept his mind from going back to the dark place it had been in during his time alone on Bracca. A dark place that was slowly dragging him back, its sharp claws digging into his mind.

 “Cal?”

 Master Mirthver’s voice was quiet as she stepped into the cave, a bundle of blankets in one arm and a cot tucked the other. Cal sniffed and peered at her, his green eyes wet with tears. The Togruta gave him a sad look, moving over to kneel beside him.

 “What is troubling you, young Ketsis?” She whispered.

 “ ‘m a bad padawan.” He croaked, his voice trembling. “I let Master Tapal die.”

“Oh Cal,” The Crèshe Master crooned, draping a blanket over him, “that isn’t true in the slightest. No one would ever blame you for what happened that day. Jedi Masters that had been training for longer than you’ve been alive couldn’t stop the clones. Master Tapal’s death was not your fault.”

 “Yes it was!” He sobbed, the tears falling freely now.

 His raw emotions and sorrowful cry woke the two clones he had been resting with. Crosshair jolted a bit, his military upbringing making him snap to alertness. Omega was a different story, all slow movements and hazy questioning over their bond. Crosshair drew Cal into a hug, understanding that the youngster was upset but not yet knowing why.

 “What’s wrong?” He asked, rubbing Cal’s back. “It it your cut?”

 Cal pressed his face into the clone’s chest, making a noise of disagreement.

 “He feels guilt.” The Togruta explained. “He blames himself for something out of his control.”

 The Jedi’s words did nothing but make Cal cry harder. Crosshair looked hopelessly confused, unsure of what to do or how to make things better. Omega, now very much awake and practically being suffocated by Cal’s emotions, wiggled her way over Crosshair’s body and pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible.

 “Let it out.” She whispered. “Let it all out. You’ll never be really alright if you don’t get everything out when it starts to be too much.”

 The redhead shuddered, clinging to her like his life depended on it. Omega winced as she moved her leg, letting Cal cry into her shoulder. Her own tears slipped down her face as she shared his misery and pain, and she leaned against Crosshair for support. The man brought both her and Cal into a hug easily, wishing that he could help more.

 “You’ll be okay.” She rasped. “I promise.”

 Crosshair and Azeu looked at each other, neither one quite knowing what to say or what to do. Omega seemed to be the only one who could truly understand what Cal was going through, but neither adult wanted such pressure to fall on the shoulders of a young child. Azeu tentatively reached out with the Force, but quickly pulled back when she felt a sharp, almost electrical feeling. It was like a force-field, protecting those within and keeping any others out. She couldn’t tell if Cal had put it up in an attempt to shield his broken psyche, or if Omega was, in her exhaustion, was trying her best to protect her friend.

 Unable to do anything other than simply hug the distraught kids, Crosshair murmured quiet comforting words, both in Basic and in Mando’a. After a while, the sobs died down as the children fell back asleep, still holding onto each other. Silently, Azeu and Crosshair constructed a plush bed for them. Crosshair held Cal and Omega close, not wanting them to wake up and start stumbling around in the dark. There was a pool of water near by, after all, and he didn’t want them falling into it. There was no resistance on their end, the duo easily finding a comfortable spot on his chest and in the crux of his elbow.

 “I’ll be back to check on them in the morning.” Azeu whispered.

 Crosshair nodded, laying his head down. The blankets made sleep come even easier, and he quickly found himself back in the darkness of sleep.

   “I hate this.”

 “I know.”

 Crosshair smoothed Omega’s hair down, the blonde locks dampened by sweat. The girl’s face was flushed, reddened by a fever that had taken over her body. Her brown eyes were glassy, fogged over by illness. The sight was distressing, both for Crosshair and Cal. The freckled boy was in his cot, staying there only because Azeu had threatened to move him into a different room if he kept trying to check up on Omega. Crosshair wasn’t looking towards him right now, but he was sure that, if he looked, he’d see Cal sulking. He sympathized with him, but the clone knew that he needed to rest.

 “I‘m cold.” Omega whined, shuddering.

 “You might feel cold, but I assure you, you’re warm as an oven, little verd.” Crosshair replied.

 “Lil’ wha?” Omega questioned.

 “Verd. It means warrior.” The man responded fondly.

 “Oh.” She said, glancing up at Crosshair. “Whatsa warrior?”

 “Someone brave who fights for the good of others.”

 “Y’think I’m brave?”

 Crosshair gave her a kind smile. “Of course. Bravest little clone to ever grace this wretched Galaxy.”

 “Awww.” She giggled, leaning into his hand. “You’re so nice, Crosshair.”

 “I think you’re the first person to ever say that.” He said, ruffling her hair.

 “That’s ‘cause you act too much like a cactus.” Omega replied.

 “What?” Crosshair looked at her, confused.

 “Prickly on the outside, soft on the inside.” She said, sounding very sage.

 “Oh, quiet you.” Crosshair snipped, no heat behind his words.

 “Crosshair?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

 A bucket was swiftly handed to Omega, and the poor girl clutched it as she emptied her stomach of its contents. Crosshair awkwardly rubbed her back, wincing when she started coughing. He himself had never thrown up, but he’d heard stories from Echo about the time he and his twin, Fives, had gotten blackout drunk. Apparently, it was one of the worst feelings you could experience.

 Once she was done, he offered her a cup of water and helped her get comfortable again. Omega groaned as she lay back down, her face contorting in displeasure.

 “I don’t like being sick.” She whined.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” Crosshair said sympathetically.

 “I wanna go home.” Omega sighed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

 “Me too, ad’ika. I’m going to try and contact the Havoc Marauder as soon as you’re better.” The older clone said.

 “Why not before?” The young girl asked softly.

 “I don’t want to leave you here while I go look for a signal. You can both come with me once you’ve recovered.” He explained.

 “Why can’t we stay here?” Omega asked innocently.

 “I don’t exactly trust the people who kidnapped you and Cal to be the best babysitters.” Crosshair muttered.

 “They’re not bad people, Crosshair. They thought that you had kidnapped us. They’re all really nice.” Omega glanced down. “Except for Chex, he’s kinda mean.”

 “Kinda?” Cal lifted his head off his cot. “He nearly cut you in half!”

 “What?!” Crosshair growled, sitting up straighter.

 “He thought I was like the chipped clones!” Omega explained quickly “He just wanted to protect his family.”

 “That’s not an excuse for attacking you. Nothing is an excuse for attacking you.” He hissed, pulling Omega closer, as if to defend her from some unseen threat. “You’re a child. You didn’t do anything.”

 “He didn’t know that.” Omega said softly.

 Crosshair hugged her closer, and Omega could hear his rising heartbeat thundering in his chest. She nuzzled his stomach, trying to calm his anger before he did something stupid.

 “Please don’t hurt him.” The blonde haired clone gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t want you to start a fight you can’t win.”

 “I can win any fight.” He muttered, but made no move to get up and hunt Chex down, so Omega counted it as a success.

 “He’s still a jerk though.” Cal piped up again. “I kinda want to see Crosshair scare the daylights out of him.”

 “Cal!” Omega scolded, leaning over to glare disapprovingly at him.

 “What?” He asked teasingly. “Don’t pretend that you don’t want to see that.”

 Omega puffed her cheeks out, but her sickness-induced flushness and ruffled hair robbed her of any semblance of intimidation. “Where is he anyways? I lost track of him once things got crazy.”

 “Forming an apology, I hope. He owes you his life.” Cal huffed, before closing his eyes. Omega lifted her head slightly, sensing him reach out with the Force.

 “Oho, he is miserable! He’s as sick as you!” Cal chuckled, before hissing and clutching at his chest. “Ow, ow, ow.”

 “Laughing at someone’s pain? That can’t be something Jedi do.” Omega teased.

 “Not a Jedi yet, still got time to make mistakes.” Cal argued, lying back down.

 Omega huffed, feeling sleep creep up on her. She yawned, stretching her arms.

 “I just woke up, how am I already tired?” She complained, rubbing at her uninjured eye.

 “You’re healing. Sleep, ad’ika.” Crosshair said, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders.

 “One day, I will figure out what you keep calling me.” Omega yawned again, letting sleep bring her into it’s gentle hold.

    Blaster fire, yelling, the smell of smoke.

 Omega cowered, staring up at the uncaring face of the man before her. Steel blue eyes look down at her with disdain, the man’s lip curling with disgust.

 “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little defective. You’ve caused quite a stir, what with your escape on Verbrick. You know, the Kamnioans want you back, but since there are so many little Force users here, I see no reason why we can’t just take one of them instead.” He smirks, and Omega feels very cold. “Kill her, and grab one of the children. Not the redhead, though, that one is to be exterminated.”

 NONONONONONONO!

 The Force becomes alight with her rage and fear, and she calls out to someone, anyone.

She finds someone. She finds them, and the world explodes with noise.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[23] #omega bad batch #cal ketsis #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #whump prompt #writing challenge

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

TWs/CWs: Mildly dubious consent, hatefucking, gunplay, Niragi being a bastard. Dead dove, do not eat.

Author’s Notes: I was debating on whether or not I should write the sm*t in detail. I'm normally opposed to writing scenes even with the mildest hints of noncon or dubcon in detail, but Yamane's experience with Niragi will serve as a point of comparison later, so I kept it. Hopefully it’s the right decision.

IV

they say I don't get scared so easily / feel free to show me the roaches / and spiders that creep in your mattress

The pill bottle rattles as Yamane pours one in her palm.

It’s been five days since her arrival. Since then, she met other members of the militant faction, and while some of them aren’t as bloodthirsty as Niragi, Yamane still hasn't come to terms with the reality that she’s considered one of them now.

To Yamane’s surprise and secret relief, Saiko has calmed down, and introduced her to the other female militants. It seems that there are only three of them; four, if you count Yamane in.

One girl was called Hanako, who was a little shy, and she usually wears a gray bikini pair that doesn’t quite expose all of her skin. She was the one who took her to the storage room to get changed after getting treated by Sunohara.

“These bikinis suck,” Yamane complains to herself, sorting through the assortment of garments. “None of them fits my style,” Yamane picks up several bikini tops, and a long black wraparound.

Taking one of her daggers out, Yamane trims the straps off of the tops. The Beach confiscated her bag, so she had no access to her usual tools, but they let her keep the sewing kit she keeps in her skirt pocket. Hanako watches as Yamane sewed in the storage room, deft fingers altering the garment despite one of her arms being immobilized.

“What did you do before you came here?” Hanako asks, watching the needle as Yamane sews, obviously bored and using the seemingly mundane task to entertain herself.

“Made clothes,” Yamane replies, eyes flicking to the other girl as she went on with her task. She holds out the newly finished top: a black bikini top with a pentagram design on the chest.

“Cool,” the other girl comments, sitting a little closer to Yamane, who moves on to the long black skirt, tearing through the sides. She sheds her own skirt, cuts out the rings that decorated it, and uses it to secure the sides. She then trims some excess length from the wraparound.

“Hey, um, could you help me get dressed?” Yamane asks, and Hanako obliges.

When they’re done, Yamane looks at herself in the mirror. The twin buns on her head had gotten messy; she can’t really style them properly due to her injury. She wore her usual cropped hoodie on top of her new Beach garments, and Hanako helped her get her shoulder brace back on. She still couldn’t believe Sunohara had one lying around in her clinic. The Beach really does have a lot of resources to spare.

Yamane then slips on some platform beach sandals, and the two militants emerge from the storage room. Another of them is waiting outside.

“What was taking so long?!” this one asks, crossing her arms. She wore a hoodie with red and black stripes on top of her swimwear, her hair dyed brown and pulled back into a ponytail. “Whatever, Niragi’s looking for you. Come with me.”

“What does he want with me?” Yamane asks, but the girl doesn’t reply. Yamane follows her anyway. The men who brought her here had been lingering in her thoughts for quite some time, and she wanted to ask a few questions.

As they pass through a few rooms, Niragi comes into view with Saiko and they pull her into a room.

“You can go now, Akari,” he tells the woman with the striped hoodie.

They didn’t bother closing the door.

“We can finally pick up where we left off, mousy,” Niragi taunts, pushing Yamane down the bed and toying with the hem of her bikini top. He licks the dip between the two mounds on her chest, and Yamane takes a sharp inhale.

She looks at the man before her, and considers the conflicted feelings he draws out of her. He's loud, he's a bastard, and he takes what he wants without asking. He probably touched other girls without their consent too.

Yamane hated him.

On a normal day, Yamane would be disgusted with someone like him, and herself for enjoying this, but Niragi stirred something dark and primal within her, and the past few days had taken a toll on her judgment, so Yamane kissed him herself, desire and revulsion blending at the pit of her stomach.

Niragi’s eyes widen, but he smirks against Yamane’s lips, darting his tongue in her mouth and claiming her. The piercing on his tongue is an interesting feeling, and Yamane didn’t have any complaints. Yamane’s dark lipstick stains Niragi’s lips. In the background, Saiko gives them a knowing laugh.

“My, my, you want this, little mouse?”

Yamane is no longer in proper society; she didn’t have any reasons to pretend that she didn’t want this. It’s been a long time since she got laid anyway, and it certainly isn’t the first time she fucked someone she hated.

The first time was with a sleazy upperclassman in high school. It felt great, watching the chauvinist pig beg and writhe underneath her, but word got around, and his on-and-off girlfriend wasn’t happy.

“You could’ve just asked instead of grabbing me, bastard. It still doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”

Niragi grins, and grabs her jaw to kiss her again. Yamane made herself pliable, but she swore not to show any sign of enjoyment. That’s one thing that she wouldn’t give Niragi.

Meanwhile, Niragi had moved on to her neck, trying to draw another reaction from her, but she stayed still. He spreads Yamane’s legs apart, running his tongue against her thigh, pauses, and runs it through her belly, up to her breasts. He pulls her bikini top up, and flicks his tongue against her hardening nipples, alternating between the two, the piercing cold against it. All he could get from her was a small shiver.

“So you’ve come to accept human nature. That was faster than expected, Yamane. I had the feeling that we’ll get along the moment I saw you kill that man. Left to our own devices, we humans will kill, pillage, and rape,” Niragi croons in her ear before sucking on that sensitive spot between her neck and ears. Yamane did her best to stifle a moan, and Saiko laughed at her attempt at staying in control.

“The circumstances forced me to kill, and you know it. You know nothing about me, Niragi.”

The militant withdraws from her, sees that there’s no longer any fear in her eyes, and gives her a questioning look. “Maybe the rumors on the tabloids are true, and she’s so used to doing this kind of thing that this doesn’t bother her anymore,” Niragi muses. Then, he leans back in and kisses Yamane’s neck again, his breath kissing the shell of her ear.

“That’s no fun at all.”

He motions Saiko to fetch his rifle, and Niragi points it at the dormouse’s face.

Now, the fear is back. Saiko got behind her and restrained her. Yamane thrashed and trembled as Niragi glided the barrel against her lips.

“Let’s see if there’s any truth to them. Open your mouth.”

Carefully, Yamane does as she’s told, sweat starting to form at her brow. Niragi slides the barrel in.

“Suck. Let’s see how good you are before I try you myself.”

Running her tongue against the barrel, Yamane maintains eye contact, the corners of her eyes wet. The gun is still warm. Enclosing her lips around the tip, Yamane takes a deep inhale, closes her eyes and starts to bob her head. Her lipstick was barely visible on the black metal.

“Here I thought you’ve already learned your lesson,” Niragi hisses, pushing the little dormouse’s skirt aside and shoving a hand in her underwear. His finger circled her clit, spreading her wetness, and Yamane couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled from her throat.

“The circumstances didn’t force you to kill. It just brought the killer out of you. You’ll kill to survive. That's our nature. That’s your nature,” he sneers, squeezing Yamane’s clit with his thumb and index finger, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Besides, didn’t you leave that little girl to hide alone? You probably did that because you know to yourself that she’s going to be a hindrance to your own survival. Did you?”

Yamane sobs at the bitter truth, the tears falling from her eyes.

“I knew it.”

Niragi withdraws his gun from her mouth, stands on the bed, and unzips his pants. He pulls his cock out of its confines, giving it a few strokes. His member was pierced too; a magic cross at the glans, and a column of pearls runs underneath the skin of his shaft.

“Bite me, I’ll blow your head off,” Niragi threatens, and Yamane nodded.

Niragi is right about one thing: Yamane will do anything to survive. That’s what she did all her life, after all. Her brain being constantly on survival mode did horrible things to her psyche.

Gliding the tip against the dormouse’s tongue, Niragi smirks, then uses his cock to slap her cheek. From behind, Saiko giggles, staining Yamane’s neck with her lipstick and her hand slipping through the waistband of Yamane’s skirt to toy with her. With a strong shove, Niragi pushes his cock down Yamane’s throat, and she chokes, struggling to accommodate him.

Soon, she finds a steady rhythm, and she encloses her lips around his shaft, sucking all the way to the tip and ending with a wet pop. The precum leaking from his tip glosses over her lips, and Niragi smiles before taking her mouth again.

“I think the tabloids were right. Isn’t that right, you little slut? You like sucking dick?”

Yamane opens her eyes, giving Niragi a deadly glare. In the corner of her eye, she sees a hooded figure by the doorway.

Last Boss is standing there, mouth pressed to a tight line, but his hood obscures his eyes. The party lights outside shine through the room, and for a brief moment, Yamane sees the intensity of the tattooed man’s gaze.

He is looking at the three of them with an expression that Yamane could only describe as envy.

Niragi sees that Yamane’s eyes are going somewhere else, and he turns to that direction.

“Last Boss! You want to join in? This little mouse is pretty nasty,” Niragi invites him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Executive meeting in ten minutes,” he said, and without another saying another word, he leaves.

“Dammit, and I wanted to savor this moment too. Well, you’ve heard him. Let’s get these off. I don’t have all night,” Niragi comments, pulling at her skirt. He flips her over, and gives her ass a hard smack.

“Ass in the air,” he commands, and Yamane obliges, more than happy to do what she can to end this encounter already. “Saiko, help me make the little mouse feel good.”

The tip of his cock glides through her wet folds, and he violently enters her.

Growling to suppress a cry, Yamane braced herself on Saiko’s lap. She hisses at the angle at which Niragi was penetrating her, his piercings rubbing against sensitive spots that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. She couldn’t hold back anymore; it felt too good. Moans started to escape the dormouse’s lips as the militant continued to pound her from behind.

“You feel so damn good,” Niragi hisses, leaning over to nibble at her ear. He wraps a hand around her neck and pulls her closer to him, kissing her. The new position gave Saiko an opportunity to rub Yamane’s clit with her fingers again, then she kissed her, then Niragi, and she settled on suckling at the other woman’s breasts.

The bombardment of stimulation almost drove Yamane over the edge. Trying to imagine something else so she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cum, Yamane tries to think of other things; Kobayashi and Nakamura’s bodies dissolving in a pool of acid; Sato’s broken neck; Last Boss slicing that delinquent boy’s neck.

Last Boss.

Somehow, thinking of him only made Yamane waver. She imagines him taking her instead, those mad eyes boring through her, piercing her. Instead of fear or disgust, she felt titillation.

Yamane came with a broken cry, white spots dancing behind her eyes.

Saiko pulls her towards her chest as she loses her energy to hold herself up, petting her ruined hair. Behind her, Niragi rubs himself off and finishes on her ass with a grunt, his warm cum shooting to her lower back. He leans forward to lick her good shoulder, then her cheek, and Yamane could feel his weight leave the bed.

“Well, that was fun, mousy. See you later.”

He gets dressed, retrieves his rifle, and leaves the room.

On the bed, Saiko continues petting Yamane’s head.

“Does he really try to take every girl that comes through this place, even if it meant raping them?” Yamane finally asks, face still buried on Saiko’s lap.

“Only the ones he wants to break.”

“Did he fuck you too?”

Saiko pauses. “Yes.”

Rolling over, Yamane looks at the taller woman in the eye. “And this just happens all the time in the Beach?”

Saiko huffs and rolls her eyes, retrieving two sticks of cigarettes and a lighter from her sleeveless olive jacket. “It’s just the way it is here. Everyone is free to do what they want, and that includes crimes. If you don’t want to be a victim of one, you have to be a perpetrator yourself. Hatter tries to keep the order, but he’s falling short. I thought you’d accept it by now.”

Yamane wanted to say, “That’s the most bullshit explanation I’ve ever heard,” but exhausted, defeated, she said, “Well, Niragi can’t break what’s already broken. I’ll continue to pretend not to feel anything, or at least try.”

“Good. That’ll get him to lay off of you. Men like Niragi get off on fear. Show that he doesn’t faze you, he’ll move on to a new target.”

With a bitter laugh, the little mouse opens her mouth, and Saiko places the cigarette between her lips, lighting it.

Yamane didn’t even smoke, but she needed that.

It turns out that Saiko is right. Niragi’s escapades went on for two more nights before he finally dropped her and moved on to a new target. But it still left Yamane sore for days.

Furrowing her brows, Yamane shakes the pill bottle and pours herself another painkiller tablet. She swallows the pills, and downs a glass of water. Stepping out of her room, she descended to the lobby. There’s going to be a game tonight, and she needed to replenish her visa.

The teams are being assigned. Yamane receives her assignment, and gulps as she feels someone’s presence behind her.

“Yamaneko. You’ll come with us,” Last Boss tells her, and Yamane nods.

He shuffles away, towards Aguni and Niragi, and Yamane follows him. Feeling awkward for thinking of him while another man took her, Yamane couldn’t look at him. But of course, he didn’t need to know that.

Sitting next to him in the backseat certainly didn’t help.

Niragi drives like a demon, making her stomach churn, while Aguni sits beside him, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

“Tonight we’ll see what you’re made of,” the chief says. Niragi grins, while Last Boss gives her a meaningful look. “Let’s see if you’re really the wildcat Last Boss thinks you are.”

“Wow, no pressure at all,” Yamane thinks to herself, exhaling slowly, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves. Still, she felt a twisted sense of pride, looking at Last Boss from the corner of her eyes. The man barely speaks, and he’s a total enigma to Yamane; no one knows his real name, but everyone knows how dangerous he is.

“If he thinks I’m like a wildcat, then he might respect me a little more than Niragi who calls me a mouse.”

He’s staring at her again, and this time, Yamane cranes her neck to stare back.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the car comes to a screeching halt. Yamane lurches forward, while the tall man stays steady in his seat.

“Out the car,” Aguni barks, and everyone steps out. Yamane eyes the venue, and even Niragi seems to stop. It was a high school; Yamane’s alma mater to be exact.

“A high school? Man, this place brings back some bad memories,” Niragi moans, brows furrowing.

“This was my high school. Fuck this place,” Yamane mumbles, putting one hand on her hip.

“No time for nostalgia, we have a game to play,” Aguni scolds them while Last Boss follows him close by. “Are you two coming or not?”

Looking at each other, Niragi and Yamane start following their chief again. The four militants pass through the laser grid, and proceed deeper into the school complex, where the directions are leading them to the field at the back of the school. While passing through the halls, Yamane sees a pile of old desks in an unused room. Among them was her old one, vandalized with words such as “Kill yourself” and “Slut”.

Turning away, Yamane focuses her attention to the game.

Each of them grab a phone from the foldable table at the far end of the field, waiting for registration to close. There are explosive collars and weapons on a separate table, with instructions to wear one collar, and take an optional weapon. There are also instructions that prohibit firearms, which made Niragi groan and put his rifle down. Aguni deposits his pistol as well.

Slipping the explosive collar around her neck, Yamane watches as her fellow militants do the same. Niragi picks up a knife, and so does Aguni, while Last Boss sticks to his katana, and Yamane checks her daggers.

This will either be a Spade game, or another Club. Yamane scans the horizon, the green grass of the field overgrown from the lack of maintenance. She looks at the number of people around, and there are more than fifteen of them in the field. The worst case scenario she can think of is a battle-royale type of game where the last one standing wins. She has no chance against Aguni, Niragi, or Last Boss. But the explosive collar didn’t make sense. The lasers could easily shoot them down if they try to leave the arena, so an explosive collar wouldn’t be necessary.

The synthetic voice chirps from their phones as the last person picks up theirs.

“Registration closed. There are currently twenty players. Difficulty: Four of Spades.”

Yamane’s eyebrows furrow as her suspicions are confirmed.

“Game: Kibasen. Rules: Players must form a group of four, with three acting as the horse, and one as a spear. If the spear is taken out, the entire group is disqualified. Clear condition: Players must eliminate the rival team. Time limit: none.”

“Cavalry battle? I’m surprised that this isn’t classified as a Clubs game.” Yamane comments. “But there are no headbands or caps around. Don’t tell me…”

“The headband is likely the spear’s head,” Aguni grunts. “Wildcat. Be the spear.”

Yamane’s heart starts to race. She can’t do this, not with her injured shoulder. She’ll put the entire team at risk. “You heard Aguni,” Niragi barks, looming over her. “Get on top.”

“Wait a minute. Chief, I think Last Boss should be the spear,” Yamane interrupts, making all three look at her.

“Are you chickening out, little mouse?” Niragi asks her, tilting his head.

“Look at me,” she says, holding her good arm out. “My arm span is short. My daggers are too short. Last Boss is our tallest man. His limbs are longer than mine, and his katana has good range. He can strike farther than I could. Putting him on top would result in a longer, deadlier spear.”

A ponderous look on his face, Niragi turns to Aguni. Yamane’s eyes flick towards Last Boss, who was smiling at her.

“Chief, what do you think?” Niragi asks.

“Last Boss, you’re the spear,” Aguni grunts. “I’ll be the one in front. Niragi, Yamane, take the sides.”

Sighing in relief, Yamane takes her position at her right, which shields her injured left shoulder. “You’re lucky, little mouse,” Niragi whispers, bumping shoulders with her as they ducked, and Last Boss climbs over them.

His cold hand presses against Yamane’s head. “Yamaneko, thank you,” Last Boss tells her, lips curling into a smile. On top of her, he reminded her of a tiger once more, predatory, ready to strike.

She still couldn’t figure him out.

Around them, strangers are forming reluctant alliances, warily eyeing other teams. Soon, all five teams are lined up.

“Wait, are we supposed to fight each other? Where is this rival team?”

As if on cue, a rumble starts from a distance, growing louder, and the synthetic voice booms through the outdoor speakers. “Game Start!”

Through the same entrance they used, teams of masked men ran through, their spears carrying naginatas.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Niragi quips, tongue flicking out of his mouth. The other units of players unaffiliated from the Beach start to run and scream, while Aguni commands them to charge forward.

One unit from the enemy team charges at a friendly team, and lops the spear’s head off. His teammates’ explosive collars go off.

Then, they come face to face with the militants’ unit.

Yamane blows away a stray lock of hair from her face. “Shit. Here we go.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #morizono aguni #fanfiction #character study #suguru niragi x oc