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munson-blurbs · 14 days

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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo.

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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glacierclear · 8 months

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ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH?

fuckboy!leon x gn!reader (maybe a few gendered terms oops)

content: hurt/no comfort, angst, arguments, passive aggression, mentions of drugs/alcohol

Your best friend is a fuckboy. He ditches you at a party. You argue. Maybe they were right about him.

[ao3 link]

They all tried to tell you. Every single one of them.

He’s bad news, don’t bother. You would scoff.

He’s nothing but a walking penis. He doesn’t care about anything. And you’d roll your eyes.

Every red flag. Every warning sign. Every flashing light. You refused to heed any of them. And you tilled, and you sowed, and you fed. And now? You were reaping.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. You’re a big kid. You don’t need a damn babysitter.” His hands remained clenched, balled up and shoved into the pouch of his hoodie. His posture was lax. Noncommittal. He stared into a wall, his expression detached and unreachable.

“When you called me up tonight to drag me to some stupid frat party, I at least expected you to like, stay with me,” you countered. “We weren’t even there for an hour before you up and ditched me. Streaking across campus like a moron.” The base of your neck throbbed, the fledgling burn of an oncoming migraine. Your clothes still reeked of burnt weed and the cloyingly pungent whiff of cotton candy vape smoke.

“You should be fucking grateful. Wouldn’t have gotten into that party without me. Shit was the best thrasher of the month.” He lifted his head, scorching you with that know-it-all smirk. It huffed the coals of your stomach. You felt like puking.

“I didn’t…oh my god, Leon. I didn’t go for the party. I thought you…I don’t know. I thought you actually wanted to hang out. Have a good night.”

Your fingers burrowed their way through the folds of your sheets and you stayed perched at the edge of your bed. Leon hovered at your doorway, barely present in the space of your dorm, his contour fuzzed with casting light.

He didn’t say anything. Your eyes pulsed and stung. “Look. I’m not mad, I just–”

“You should be.”

“What?”

It’s then that he finally dared to meet your eyes. Blue hues swallowed whole by the pitch of his pupils, seeking you past tendrils of mussed, blonde hair.

“You should be mad. Why aren’t you? Cuz’, you’re right. I fucking ditched you. Like a moron.” He flung the word back with acid and you winced away. “God forbid I have some fun, right? Forgot you’re too much of a buzzkill to actually have fun at a party.”

There’s a throttling impulse to scream at him. Tell him off for being unreasonable and kick his ass to the curb like last week’s trash. But you’ve danced to this song before. The repeating pattern and pervasive enigma of Leon’s refusal to invest himself; emotionally, or otherwise.

So, you sucked in a steadying breath, filled your lungs with patience, and spoke softly.

“It’s not just about the party,” you began, and passively, you noticed him shift. “I mean…streaking? You realize that if you got caught doing that…you wouldn’t have a scholarship anymore. Hell, maybe you’d be expelled.”

The realization settled on him like a poison and you caught his face darken. As much as he denied and disguised, Leon was a smart man. Excellent standing in his classes and a whopping GPA to match the third leg he swung in his pants. It meant a lot to him.

There’s a gap of silence before he opened his mouth again.

“...well, I wasn’t caught. And it was my choice. I don’t need you nagging me like a fucking mom, alright?” His body shrunk in on itself. Caging his softer parts from the reality he narrowly avoided. On a better day, perhaps you’d chase him. Push and fight for a break in his shell, a crevice that gave way to the man you knew he was capable of being. But, God, your head was shattering. Your nausea was worsening. You weren’t making progress.

“Right, well, sorry for caring, Leon,” you relented, turning away from him to click your phone into its charger. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother inviting me to any more parties.”

Your gaze left him, you weren’t fully aware of his body, but in the fleeting moments following your surrender he’s on you. Lurking above you like the baleful firmament of a roaring summer storm. You hardly had the time to open your mouth before he’s speaking. No, he’s growling. Revving the engine of his fury.

“...so that’s it? You’re not putting up with me anymore?” It could be the headache talking, but you swore you heard a tremble in his voice.

“Huh? The fuck are you–”

“We’re not friends anymore. That’s what you’re doing, right?” You searched the raging sea of his eyes for a raft. But all you did was drown. “I fucked up one too many times and now I’m just another shitty dude you had to put up with.” You watched the chipped black of his nails dig into his arms, tensed up limbs shielding him from what he’s most afraid you’ll confirm.

“Leon, that’s not…we’re still friends, okay? I just don’t want to go to parties like that anymore. Just give me a few days to cool off and we can…I dunno, we’ll hit up that burger joint you love.” It’s a pretty weak bargain, but maybe he’d bite.

And he did bite. He bit and he tore and he sought out blood.

“You’ve always had shitty taste in guys.” He practically spat at you, a scornful wrinkle deepening in the bridge of his nose. “Fucking stand up for yourself. You always let people walk all over you and act surprised when they turn out to be shitheads.”

He leaned in. You smelled him. Overpriced cologne. Underpriced shampoo. Crappy beer he drank even though he hated the taste. Despite it all, you yearned to hug him.

“Leon, I–”

“...and you know what? I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need your little dates. Your pity sex. I don’t need you looking out for my damn scholarships and I especially don’t need you making me look bad when I’m trying to let loose at the party I’ve been looking forward to all goddamn month.” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to bridge the chasm and devour his violence. If only he’d let you. But all he did was bite harder. “I won’t bother inviting you out anymore. Actually, I won’t bother talking to you at all. Have fun with your fucking life, I’m done being your fucking charity. Goodni–”

At the edge of his precipice, the void he dug for solace, Leon plummets. He straightened his spine, eyes widening and jaw hanging lifelessly. You were crying. Tears bursting without prejudice. Staining your face in vulnerability you so often only used to comfort him.

He went too far. And now, you were crying.

Neither of you moved for an eternity. From the hallway of your dorm, you hear the thundering trots of drunken friends laughing and yelling. The noise swelled and faded. The only evidence of a world beyond your room.

He called your name. His voice was so much quieter, held together with twine and stinging regret. You lifted your eyes and your throat barely allowed your words to pass.

“...Great job, Leon. Now I’m mad.” In an act of self-preservation, you tore your gaze away, burning a stare into the ground below his shoes. They’re blotched with dirt and chlorophyll, still damp from his midnight misdemeanor. “I won’t bother you anymore. If you hate me that much, I…I’ll leave you alone.”

His arms unfolded, one hand reaching out, a fragmented attempt to soothe you. But it was too late.

He repeated your name.

“I didn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said…hey–”

“Go home, Leon.” Your voice was unwavering, and he flinched back, your ire the open flame he’s too human to touch.

And then he left. Your dorm vibrated with the slam of the door, and you buried your face in your hands. In the place of his feet, soil stained your carpet. In the place of his warmth, sandalwood smoldered the air.

In the place of your love, all you wanted was to die.

#my writing #resident evil #leon kennedy #fuckboy!leon #angst #wahhhhhh wahhh wahhhh wahhhh

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whitedarkmoonflower · 18 days

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Yield to me

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: a request from lovely @wildchild2707 Thank you for trusting me to write you a story. I hope you'll like it. It fit perfectly with my mood as I'm giffing S3 now. @thenameswinter99 thank you so much for helping to overcome the sudden block in the middle of writing 💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Summary: you and Sihtric are sent to Bloodhair's camp to spy, and apparently there is more to discover than the secret plans of the Danes

Word Count: 5,9 K

You could almost feel it – that piercing, even furious look burning holes in the back of your neck, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line, spitting words with a taste of acid. Yet, you chose to ignore him.

Your fingers continued to toy with the knife, your eyes discreetly scanning the warriors gathered around the different bonfires, the play of light and shadow dancing across their faces, the fire's crackling annoyingly loud. Amidst the clamour, numerous voices speaking in various dialects and tongues wafted through the air, mingling with the smoke. You had no patience for Sihtric's trivialities; your head spun from the cacophony around you.

Distinct dialects of Gaelic, Norse, Gutnish, and Welsh were discernible in the midst of the crowd. This was likely how it had felt at the Tower of Babel, you mused to yourself. Bloodhair had succeeded in assembling Danes and other fortune-seeking scum from all corners of the islands and even beyond the seas.

"Careful now, don't cut yourself," a rough hand suddenly landed on your thigh, a thick, booming voice abruptly wrenching you from your thoughts. It was a reflex, beyond your control, your fingers wrapping around the unfamiliar palm, grabbing the thumb and wrenching it to the side. A short cry and a loud thud, the body crushing against the hard ground, were the only sounds as you found yourself sitting atop a bewildered man, your eyes wide, teeth bared, and with your knife at his throat.

"The only thing I'll cut is your throat," you hissed, eyes scanning your catch. He was not unattractive, you observed, and he smelled good, unlike the majority in this cursed camp. Surely an Earl, you had seen him before, at the main fire with Bloodhair, Cnut, and Haesten.

A valuable take, this is your chance, don't squander it, you cautioned yourself.

"Hey, easy! I didn't mean any harm," the Dane raised his hands, surrendering.

"Give me one good reason not to cut your balls off," you scoffed, studying the stranger carefully.

"I know a much better use for them," there was no anxiety in his voice, but neither was there anger, and you slowly relaxed your muscles, still scanning his face.

“I want to know everything, every smallest detail,” you had never seen Uhtred so agitated before. Your big brother, though not bound by blood, your anchor, your stronghold, your grounding force in every tempest. You had seen him everything but scared and yet his voice quivered, betraying the angst he tried to conceal, eating him from within like a worm gnawing at an apple.

“I can handle it without a babysitter,” you sneered at him, disdain evident in your voice.

It was not merely chance, but destiny that had brought you together - you, Uhtred and Brida. Three children abandoned by fate, bound by love and friendship forged in the crucible of shared pain and suffering. You all had lost everything in that fateful night when the Danes had set their foot on the lands of Bebbanburg, yet you had found each other – an unbreakable bond, a thread to navigate through life and beyond.

"I want you both to work together. Sihtric is not going there to look after you. Four eyes can see more than two. You speak all the tongues across the islands and beyond. He's considered my closest friend, my right hand, along with Finan. They'll be eager to welcome him and extract all my secrets. It's a perfect combination. I want you to trust him the way I trust him. Can you do that for me?" Uhtred's hands grasped yours, his scrutinising gaze searching for reassurance.

Could you? At the beginning you couldn’t bring yourself to trust him. He was Kjartan’s bastard, the blood and flesh of the man who had shattered your fragile lives for the second time, and he had attempted to kill Uhtred.

You could still recall his feverish gaze, darting from you to Uhtred, his bound hands slightly quivering as he held the blade at Halig’s throat. Just a boy on the brink of manhood, grappling for his chance to survive, yet so determined not to surrender.

You didn’t question Uhtred’s decision, but you couldn’t shake off the doubts that nagged at you. There was something about the quiet and reserved young warrior, something elusive, something you couldn’t quite grasp, simultaneously intriguing and unsettling you.

You had observed him in Dunholm, still half-expecting him to betray you all, to switch sides in the blink of an eye.

The clang of weapons thundered through your ears, nostrils flaring as you inhaled the sour air, thick with the stench of blood and angst. The shouts of the warriors mingled with Kjartan's piercing cry, Ragnar’s sword severing his wrist, denying him entrance to Valhalla. Wild howls echoed through the yard as the same sword swung in the air repeatedly—a cacophony of sounds and images melded into pure chaos, assaulting your senses like ocean waves threatening to engulf you. Yet, amidst the chaos, your gaze remained fixed on one face in the crowd: Sihtric’s.

His expression, contorted by anxiety and anticipation since the first clash of swords, transformed into gleeful triumph and contentment at Kjartan’s defeat, only to sour into disgust and revulsion the next moment. It was then and there that you realized the depth of the shallow and distant gaze with which he often stared into the fire, seemingly detached from the laughter and banter around him. It was as though you had been granted a glimpse into his soul, witnessing all the hidden pain, shame, and guilt reflected in his large, mismatched eyes, unable to look away.

Although Kjartan lay dead, the sword continued its relentless swing, chopping and slicing as if attempting to wrench life from his body anew with each stroke. The large, deep eyes of the boy turned warrior flinched in rhythm with the moving weapon, embracing the liberating truth, while scruple and doubt glistened within them as he struggled to believe, to comprehend that it was over. Finally over. For all of you.

"It should have been me," the words sliced through the silence of the night like a blade, as you found him sitting alone, far removed from the cheerful chatter around the bonfires. His back leaned against the mighty fortress wall, arms resting on his knees. The distant flicker of firelight danced in his large eyes, his gaze sweeping over the buildings with a feverish gleam, as if searching for something, as if seeing something beyond your perception.

“Sihtric, I…” Your attempt to comfort him with a gentle touch on his shoulder was met with a fury, as he shrugged off your hand. He jumped to his feet, feverishly rubbing his eyes with his sleeves. In a momentary blink, the gleam in his eyes revealed itself to be tears, before he stormed away, pushing you aside roughly.

Since that evening, a silent distance hung between the two of you, not by your choice. If anything had shifted on your end, it was the sense of him— the same unquenchable thirst for revenge tightening your heart in the dark of the long, cold nights. Even though you couldn’t see the ghosts of Dunholm’s lost souls, you knew he could. Your suspicion and mistrust had finally dissipated, morphing into something else, something warm and soothing that you couldn’t quite put a name to.

It was Sihtric who apparently didn’t want neither your company, nor your comfort, avoiding you as much as possible. And so, you remained silent, giving him the space he seemed to need.

So, could you trust him as Uhtred was asking? Yes, you could. You were just unsure if Sihtric could reciprocate that trust. But there was nothing you wouldn't do for your brother. The tender kiss Uhtred had placed on your wrists still burned in your memory.

“Nobody knows about it. Not even Finan, not Osferth. Nobody. You’ll leave like traitors. Both of you,” Uhtred's voice dropped to a silent whisper, and you nodded, accepting the weight of the task placed upon you. You would fulfil it at any cost. You would free your brother from the curse the witch had cast upon him.

You slowly withdrew your knife from the stranger’s throat and stepped back, extending your hand to help him to his feet, an offer he accepted.

“Are you alone? Where’s your clan?” the Dane inquired, studying you with a scrutinising gaze.

“I don’t have a clan. I came with him,” you nodded toward Sihtric, seated at another fire, and returned the knife to its scabbard on your back. Once more, you could feel the weight of Sihtric's angry gaze boring into your flesh from a distance. He still hadn't grasped it, hadn't accepted that you were here on your own mission, that you neither needed nor wanted his protection.

He had choked on his ale, coughing furiously, when Uhtred had informed him you would be accompanying him.

“Lord, it’s too dangerous,” was the first thing he had said. “You can’t send her there.”

You snorted in disdain, stepping forward with fury burning in your eyes. He had witnessed your prowess in battle, seen you take down men much larger than yourself, and yet he doubted you, considering you weak. You were a warrior, your small and fragile appearance deceiving, both a curse and a blessing, concealing the steel beneath the softness of your velvety skin.

“I need neither your approval nor permission,” you hissed through gritted teeth, fixing him with a steely gaze. “Whether you come with me or not, that's your decision.”

And, predictably, he came. He could not refuse his lord’s order. You both departed under cover of night after a heated dispute with Uhtred, freeing the imprisoned Danes beforehand, but the silence between you grew even heavier. You felt like a burden to him, and you didn’t need words to confirm it. The heavy sighs, the silent shakes of his head, his gaze lingering on you before turning away the moment you met it—they spoke volumes. But you didn’t care, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Husband of yours?” the Dane inquired, slight disappointment evident in his voice.

“No, just a travel companion. We both served under the Dane Slayer, but the witch has stolen his mind, and now we are here,” you spat with disdain at the mention of her, your anger and scorn genuine and unfeigned.

Sihtric drew a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heartbeat. It felt insane. What were you even doing here? What had Uhtred been thinking, sending you into such danger? How could he be so blind, so reckless with your life?

The anger with which he had hurled insults at Uhtred that night before departure had been genuine—the fury that Uhtred, in his bid to save his own skin, was willing to sacrifice everything, even you—his sister, his unwavering companion through all the tumultuous twists and turns of his unruly life, and in Sihtric’s eyes – certainly the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had fallen in love with you; it seemed as if he had always felt this way, from the very first moment he laid eyes on you next to Uhtred. Your hand steady and poised on the hilt of your sword, your eyes—beautiful, deep, dark, and somewhat sorrowful—following his every move, every breath, while his own fingers quivered, his knuckles turning white from the force of gripping the hilt of Halig’s sword pressed against its owner’s throat.

As he finally dropped the sword, his fingers wrapping around Thor's hammer on his neck to swear his oath to his new lord, the resounding echo of his own words thundered in his ears and his gaze never left yours, pleading and promising.

He knew you harboured no fondness for him, no trust either, and he couldn’t blame you for it. Yet, he had hoped that with time, things would evolve, that he could earn your trust as he had Uhtred’s. Instead, he had only exposed his vulnerability, revealing himself as just a boy haunted by the ghosts of his past, far from the man or warrior he aspired to be for you.

Returning to Dunholm—the graveyard of his dreams and hopes—filled him with dread. Yet, the desire to prove himself to you, to demonstrate that he was more than a frightened boy bargaining for his life, coupled with the ambition to exhibit his courage, loyalty, and perhaps earn an approving smile from the most beautiful eyes on this side of the world, had been overpowering. Only to have those hopes shattered by your pitying gaze when you encountered him that evening after the battle. With nothing left but to retreat and await another opportunity.

The journey to Bloodhair’s camp had become a nightmare of its own. He struggled to conceal his emotions, hoping that the occasional sighs he couldn’t suppress or the furtive glances he stole in your direction—quickly averting his eyes when caught—wouldn’t betray him.

Now, you were trapped here, deep within enemy territory, each day fraught with the risk of discovery and capture. While Uhtred had kept his promise to keep Brida away from the camp, the fear of her sudden appearance loomed like a raised axe; she couldn’t be deceived. She knew you better than anyone, and consumed by grief over Ragnar's loss, she was unpredictable.

Sihtric adamantly refused to let you out of his sight. It was too perilous, and the thought of you disregarding the danger drove him to the edge of madness. He kept a vigilant watch over you, growing increasingly frustrated by the day as you dismissed his concerns. How could he protect you if you refused to acknowledge the peril, insisting instead on separating to gather more information?

You hadn’t expected it to be so easy. A satisfied smile threatened to curl on your lips as the Dane, whom you had nearly beheaded, invited you to join him at the larger fire. He settled beside you, and as the night progressed and the laughter grew louder, you didn’t push away his large palm as it found its way back to your thigh.

“I’ll be straight with you - I like you, wildcat,” he chuckled in your ear as the flames started to dwindle. “You're welcome at this fire anytime, and if you're interested, you're welcome in my tent too.”

You smiled, tilting your head to the side as you eyed the broad-shouldered man. You knew this game all too well. It was a hunt, and like every hunt, timing was everything. Let your arrow fly too soon, and you miss your prey; linger too long, and it'll slip away. It was too early for the perfect strike, but your prey was taking the bait, thinking himself the hunter. You stifled the laughter bubbling in your chest, turning it into a muffled chuckle.

“I’ll consider it,” you replied, not making any promises, just teasing, baiting. Your fingers traced a path from the Dane's shoulder over the fur cloak covering his broad chest, and you saw the trap you had laid out snap in his dark, smirking eyes. He was a worthy adversary, quite handsome even, and above all, you appreciated when men were straightforward.

If playing this game brought you closer to the talks and whispers you were so eager to hear, you were more than willing to participate.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" an angry hiss stung your ear just as you were about to slip into your tent, your hand instinctively reaching for the dagger behind your back.

“Damn,” you swore loudly, spotting the silhouette emerging from the shadows. “You're lucky you're still breathing.”

“I saw you with that brute. You need to be more careful. I’ve told you so many times…” If looks could kill, Sihtric would have dropped dead on the spot.

“You're not my father, you're not my brother, you're not my husband. You're nobody to me, and you have nothing to tell me,” you spat out your words at him, as if hurling daggers. Not that there was anyone in your life who could actually tell you what to do. You were your own master, and it was time for Sihtric to grasp that.

"We both have tasks here, so you'd better start with yours. Besides, I’m enjoying the company of that warrior," you hissed, throwing open the flaps of your tent, eager to vanish from Sihtric’s view as soon as possible. However, you were abruptly halted by an iron grip around your wrist.

“So, I'm a nobody,” a strange metallic tone tinged Sihtric’s voice, a quality you had never detected before, momentarily seizing your attention. You turned your head, and your surprised gaze was met by two deep pools of pure fury. “I get it. You're right, I am. I’ve been a nobody all my damn life. And who are you?”

You attempted to retrieve your hand, but Sihtric’s grip only tightened, and anger slowly churned in your stomach as your other hand stealthily slid behind your back to grasp the dagger.

"A smug and heedless badger digging deeper into its burrow, oblivious to everything happening outside. What have I done to deserve being treated like a dog? Ignored, dismissed at every turn, forced to watch you fawning over that filthy boar."

“A badger?” you snorted, your tone a mix of anger and amusement at Sihtric’s sudden outburst. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, your common sense whispered for you to cease, recognizing you had clearly crossed a line and needlessly wounded him. However, retreat and admission of fault were not traits you readily embraced. You silenced your inner voice with a smug grin, a challenge glinting in your eyes as you met Sihtric’s gaze. “That filthy boar smelled better than you ever did,” you shot back.

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt of your dagger, swiftly drawing it forth, but your attempt lacked the element of surprise; Sihtric had anticipated your move. Through countless sparring sessions, he had grown familiar with your tricks.

Releasing your wrist, Sihtric deftly parried your armed hand, swiftly yanking it back and leveraging the motion to flip you over, simultaneously seizing the dagger from your grasp and positioning it threateningly against your throat, while pressing your back firmly against his chest.

With a furious stomp on his foot, you exploited the moment of distraction to drive your elbow into Sihtric’s abdomen. He grimaced in pain, doubling over and gasping for breath, giving you the opportunity to sidestep and confront him face-to-face. But before you could act further, Sihtric’s arms encircled your waist, using his weight to shove you backwards, sending both of you tumbling through the tent entrance.

You grunted as your back collided with the fur-laid ground. Before you could formulate your next move, Sihtric landed atop you, straddling your waist and pinning your arms above your head. A primal growl escaped you as you squirmed and struggled against his restraint.

“That’s enough. Cease this. Surrender. I don’t wish to harm you,” Sihtric attempted a conciliatory tone, but the smug smirk on his lips was impossible to conceal.

“Never,” you hissed through gritted teeth, persisting in your furious struggle against Sihtric’s grasp.

With your breath coming in panting gasps and your mind racing, seeking any possible escape route, you initially even failed to register what was happening. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips against yours was scorching, his hands still restraining you, refusing to release their hold. Your eyes widened in astonishment as you momentarily ceased your futile resistance, the anger pulsating within you fading like a dying ember in a gentle breeze.

Though your muscles relaxed and the frantic struggle abated, Sihtric gave no indication of noticing, his grip still firm, his weight pressing you down as his lips fervently explored yours, kissing you with rough, bruising intensity.

You could swear your heart leapt into your throat, its rapid thudding almost deafening, as you struggled to suppress the burgeoning excitement. Yet, your own body betrayed you, a fiery heat igniting in your belly, matching the rhythm of Sihtric’s lips moving against yours.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as a soft whine escaped you, but Sihtric suddenly pulled away, releasing your arms and sitting back on his heels. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your dagger lying on the ground nearby, just out of reach.

“I’m sorry. I... I didn’t mean to…” Sihtric stammered, confusion evident on his handsome face as he scratched the back of his head. In that moment, you saw your opportunity. With a swift motion, you toppled him over toward the dagger, and in the blink of an eye, you were straddling him, the blade at his throat and a triumphant smirk on your lips.

"Gotcha," you laughed, intoxicated by the feeling of regaining control, not even pausing to consider that the victory might have been too easy.

Leaning in closer until your noses nearly touched, you watched him intently, breathing in his scent — leather, fire smoke, and ale mingled with the sweet aroma of his skin, both warming and exhilarating. A subdued chuckle escaped your lips as you noticed the mischievous sparks dancing in Sihtric’s large, expressive, two-toned eyes, a hint of suspicion creeping in that perhaps your agility alone wasn’t solely responsible for this small triumph.

Sihtric’s wide-eyed pupils tracked your every move, and in the sudden silence, you felt as if you could hear both your hearts beating frantically, breaths hitching in your chests. You pressed the dagger just a fraction tighter against his skin, enough to draw a few red drops trickling down the blade. Despite the slight pierce, not a single flinch touched Sihtric’s face as he slowly tilted his head backward, fully exposing his throat to you, his gaze still locked with yours.

The air crackled with anticipation, both your breaths quickening. Had you paused to consider, you might have chosen differently, but in that moment, your mind was suddenly empty. All that remained was the memory of the warm, thrilling sensation that had filled your core just a moment before. With a trembling exhale, you crushed your lips against Sihtric’s. The muted growl that tore through him sent shivers down your spine as you released the dagger and cupped his face, pulling him closer.

Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped your shoulders, and you gasped as you were flipped over effortlessly, like a feather. Once again beneath Sihtric’s towering frame, pressed against the fur with the weight of his body, you didn’t resist. Your fingers tangled in Sihtric’s hair as you dared not let go, your lips seeking his, parting with a hushed moan to welcome his greedy, heated tongue.

“Do you surrender?” A mischievous smile danced on Sihtric’s lips as he finally pulled away from your red, kiss-swollen lips.

“Never,” you smirked, reaching out to pull him into another passionate kiss.

With a soft whimper, you arched your back against the hard ground, covered only by a thin fur, as Sihtric’s hands began to roam over your clothes. He deftly tugged at the laces, liberating you from the leathers that concealed your skin from his touch.

Your hands were just as eager, but he was quicker. You had barely managed to pull off his leather jerkin, revealing his incredibly well built upper body to your bewildered gaze, as he freed you from the last piece of cloth, a sharp gasp leaving his chest as his ravenous gaze slid over your naked frame.

“We’ll see,” Sihtric chuckled while his lips trailed a hot path down your neck, making you gasp for air each time he sucked on your exposed skin, leaving teasing stings on his way to your chest. His skin against yours was warm and pleasantly soft and you found yourself unable to fight against the deep moan swaying through you, as his mouth closed around your hardening nipples.

“My beautiful unyielding warrior,” Sihtric’s lips continued their travel down your naked body, his low, husky voice sending shivers down your spine, “I’m going to make you feel so good as you have never felt before, I’ll show you the stars, and you will yield to me, willingly.”

“Oh gods,” was all you could murmur as his hands took hold of your hips, keeping you in place, and his tongue swept through your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, as his lips wrapped around your pearl, sucking gently, a satisfied hum leaving him as you choked on your own breath each time the lap of his hot tongue sent a new wave of shudders through your body, building up the pleasure, that slowly overtook all your senses.

Eyes rolling back into your head, you buried your teeth in your lower lip, in a futile attempt to keep quiet, but you couldn’t. Wild moans rolled over your lips as Sihtric was bringing you closer to the edge. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined the silent and hesitant young warrior being able to bring you to the brink of madness so masterly and so quickly.

Another deep moan swayed through you as he forced two fingers inside you.

Sihtric grinned in satisfaction, loving the lewd sounds, rolling over your parted lips, drinking in the sight of you - hair wild and dishevelled, eyes half lid and rolling back in your head, breath heavy and panting, hips moving up and down against his fingers - the most beautiful sight he could ever imagine. He had always dreamed of having you buried beneath him like this, yet he had never dared to believe it could actually come true.

You whined loudly as he suddenly pulled away.

“Sihtric, please, I need more,” you mewled in a desperate need to have him back.

“You need more of what?” he smirked, placing a tender kiss on your inner thigh. You shuddered, feeling his breath so close to where you wanted him.

“I need you,” you whimpered through panting breaths.

“So beautiful, so wild and unruly,” Sihtric hummed as his mouth travelled to your other thigh, “So fucking perfect for me.”

“Gods, Sihtric, please, I need you,” you whined, your voice cracking.

“Are you yielding, my fiercest warrior?” Sihtric asked, delving his tongue in your dripping heat, just to retrieve again.

“I am, fuck, I am,” you moaned breathlessly, forgetting everything – your pride, your ego, your anger – there was no room for any other emotion as the overwhelming yearning for Sihtric’s touch. With a satisfied hum, Sihtric thrusted his fingers back in your tight channel, starting to pump them in and out, and you were swept away by the new wave of pleasure.

You were already so close to the edge, feeling the warmth, cursing through your body pooling into one large flame. Your fingers dug in the fur beneath you in an attempt to hold on to something, to ground yourself, as your head snapped back, your body went taut and your walls started to clench around Sihtric’s fingers.

“Yes, that’s good. I can feel you, come for me, beautiful,” Sihtric murmured softly, his tongue starting to circle around and lap over your sensitive nub, and there was no way of holding it back any longer. You felt like a tightly drawn bow suddenly released, the tension snapping and transforming into pure energy, as you came on Sihtric’s fingers and tongue, your climax washing over you in waves of pure bliss, your body trembling and shuddering from the intensity of it.

Sihtric kept fucking you through your orgasm with his fingers, letting you savour the moment and the sinfull sensation, pulsing through your vanes like an inferno, sweeping away everything in it’s way. You were blank, like an empty parchment. Carried away in the current of pleasure you floated somewhere between this world and the other.

“You are mine now, my sweet wildflower,” Sihtric’s voice reached through your hazy mind, grounding you back to earth. “You yielded, and now you are mine.”

You wanted to protest, to reject his claim, but the words forming on your tongue dissolved in the tenderness of Sihtric’s kiss, his fingers delicately tracing your cheek.

“Say it again,” you whispered, locking eyes with his mismatched gaze.

“You are mine,” Sihtric affirmed, his voice low and soft yet resolute, causing your heart to quicken. Whom were you trying to fool here? Wasn’t this what you had secretly dreamed of since that night in Dunholm, though too afraid to acknowledge it fully?

Silence hung between you until you mustered the courage to break it. “I am yours, Sihtric,” you murmured, savouring the weight of your own words. They felt unfamiliar yet strangely satisfying, even liberating. The groan that escaped Sihtric made you grin, as his lips found yours again, stealing your breath away.

You yelped as Sihtric’s strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion, carrying you to the pile of furs serving as your bed and placing you carefully on top of it. You propped yourself up on your elbows and sat upright, watching Sihtric hastily getting rid of his breeches, a sharp exhale vibrating through your chest at the sight of his hard cock. He was big, and you were not a novice in that matter. The thought alone of him inside you, made your core pulse in pleasant anticipation.

“You are a big boy,” you mused, as he approached, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and giving it a teasing lick from tip to root, feeling it throb in your hand. You wrapped your lips around it and let your tongue slide over the sensitive tip. Sihtric moaned, shuddering at your touch.

“Do you think you can handle me?”

You just smirked at him in response, as Sihtric pushed you firmly back on the furs, crawling on top of you, crowding you like a wild beast. There was something wolfish in his demeanour, his tense, perfectly chiselled muscles rippling beneath his skin, his eyes darkening as if fixated on prey.

“I'm not gonna go easy on you,” his husky voice dripped into your ears like sweet poison, thrilling and intoxicating. It made every hair on your body stand on end and wetness pool between your legs, leaving you to wonder whether it was a warning or a promise. You had never seen him like this, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. There was evidently much more to discover beneath the reserved and bashful exterior of the young warrior, and you weren't just curious—you were burning with desire to explore.

“Sihtric, just fuck me,” you exclaimed, pulling him in for a heated kiss, and Sihtric groaned against your mouth, aligning himself with your cunt. He pushed into you, and you moaned loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders, savouring the delicious stretch as your walls took him in, pulsing around him.

There was nothing gentle in the way he fucked you, and now you understood why he had cared to place you on the big, soft keep of furs. His hips thrusted against you with a crushing power, showing you ever higher up the keep, skin snapping against skin, relentlessly pushing himself into you until the very end of his length.

His groans and hisses mingled with your moans and you were sure the half of the camp had by now definitely heard you, the fabric of the tent not an obstacle for the sounds, but you couldn’t care less. You enjoyed every single deep thrust, every single brush of his cock against that sweet swollen spot deep inside you, that made your back arch and your eyes roll back in your head, the familiar heat pooling into your belly and turning into hot, searing flame.

“Gods, how good you feel around me,” Sihtric hissed between panting breaths and you just mewled something incomprehensible in response too lost in your pleasure for any words or even coherent thoughts.

Having you here, writhing beneath him, taking his cock and moaning in pleasure, your nails leaving marks on his skin, exceeded Sihtric's wildest hopes. He had aimed to earn your trust, perhaps your friendship, but this was something else, something he didn’t dare to put a name to, not yet.

You had so unexpectedly gotten under his sway, and he desired nothing more than to please you, to immerse you in the most breathtaking sensations he could offer. For despite his longing for your surrender, there was something he craved even more.

“You are nobody to me,” you had spat in anger, and those words cut deeper than any blade ever could. He would have accepted anything from you—hate, anger—but not indifference, not from you.

Sihtric felt your walls start to clench around him, telling him that you were close to the edge.

“Common, my beautiful warrior, you can give me more,” he growled, fastening his pace, eyes getting glassy and breath rugged, as he was chasing his own release now.

“Fuck, Sihtric, I … I can’t anymore,” you hissed and after few more thrusts you were there, the pooling heat exploded within you, rolling over you, engulfing you and you let yourself fell into that blissful state where nothing else mattered apart from the indescribable, otherworldly pleasure washing over you in hot waves.

Sihtric kept fucking you through your orgasm, savouring the feeling of your walls shuddering and clenching around him, squeezing him, until he couldn’t hold back anymore and he came, spilling his seed deep inside you with a throbbing groan.

Sihtric collapsed beside you, pulling you into his embrace, his panting breath hot against your sweaty skin as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck. He wanted to prolong this moment, to stretch it into infinity, as somewhere deep inside him, he dreaded what would come after, unconsciously fearing that there actually might be no after.

Your head still hazy and spinning from the intensity of your climax, you turned slowly to face him. Your eyes roamed his handsome face, pausing at the scars on his forehead and right cheek. His embrace was firm, somewhat possessive, yet simultaneously tender, attuned to your every move, every breath. Like a young wolf resting after a good hunt—relaxed but alert—your wolf, your wild beast, ready to be tamed.

"You okay?" Sihtric asked, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, his thumb hovering over your cheek.

You simply nodded, unable to find your voice, enchanted by the soothing calmness radiating from Sihtric, having no idea about the tempest raging behind that shell. He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips over yours.

"I might be nobody to you, but you are everything to me," Sihtric's gaze locked with yours, his heart racing in his chest with maddening speed. It was the moment of truth he had always dreaded. He surrendered his heart to you, knowing there were only two possibilities: acceptance or rejection.

"You are not nobody, you never have been. You are mine. I drew your blood, and I claimed you," you stated boldly, meeting his gaze with determination. "You are mine, Sihtric Kjartansson," you repeated firmly, "and I am yours."

A deep sigh of relief escaped Sihtric as he pulled you back into his embrace, his lips affirming your claim with a passionate kiss.

"A badger!" you suddenly laughed, recalling how it all began, leading to this moment of firm embrace you never wanted to end. "You called me a badger!" you snorted, playfully punching him in the stomach.

“My wild, ignorant, beautiful badger,” Sihtric chuckled in response, gently nuzzling your dishevelled hair.

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric #the last kingdom #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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itgetsdark-x · 1 year

Note

I am an absolute slut for your writing, you are fricking so talented!!

requesting for joel x babysitter!reader bumping into each other at a bar and making I want to fuck you eyes at each other, and mayhaps they dooo at the end of the night pleaseeee hehe thank youu <3

A/N: when I say, the thought of being a babysitter for sarah and seeing joel weekly / daily had me barking at a wall… I love me a forbidden relationship wheeew! I hope this pleases you, anon, cause I would give a lung to fuck joel in a dingy bar bathroom lol. (thank u for the compliment, ur an angel!! <3)

Summary: You were in college, you babysat for Joel Miller’s daughter; you were a good girl who rarely went out drinking so imagine his surprise when he saw you dancing in a local student bar.

Characters: Joel Miller x babysitter!reader (f) Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (reader twenties, Joel in his 40s, it’s not explicitly stated but heavily implied. All characters are legal), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.9k

You swayed your hips the music in the bar as your friends giggled about something that caught their attention nearby. You brought your drink up to your mouth and drank back the shot of alcohol your friend bought for you.

“Fuck me.” You cursed and shook you head with disgust. “Never gets better or easier.” You gagged and quickly drank back your chaser of vodka and coke, at least that way the booze was disguised and sweet.

“You’re just a lightweight through and through, babe.” You friend, Jennifer laughed and quickly knocked back another shot.

You were out in your local bar celebrating the fact you guys had made it through your exams, and finally, you were free to party without the stresses of studying the next day with a hangover or even worse, trying to take a test when you were hungover.

“Shut up,” you snorted and nudged her with your arm.

She called in another round of shots for you and your friends that were out and you waved your hands in front of your face.

“No more. Nope. I’m sticking to my vodka coke, none of that acid. Nope.” You said defiantly which cause your friends to laugh around you.

—

That’s how you ended up here, in the middle of the bar and dancing on a table. You were wearing a button down silk shirt that was previously, neatly tucked into your black denim skirt. But no, not now. As your friends encouraged you to drink more, the lot of you riled each other and convinced one another to dance on the tabletops. To be honest, it wasn’t too uncommon in bars that were frequented by college majors and students.

You had undone two bottons at the top of your shirt to show a hint of cleavage and the bottom section you had completely undone and tied up to create a skimpy crop top. You had pulled your skirt up and rolled the hem to tease the crowds that watched as you danced on the table.

You threw your head back with a laugh, calling out a few cheers here and there as you swallowed back your drink and that’s when you saw him walk in, suddenly the alcohol seemed to hit all at once and you quickly stepped down from the table.

Joel Miller, he lived a few doors down from you and you babysat his daughter, Sarah, frequently. As soon as Joel walked in with his brother, Tommy, whom you also recognised, Joel locked eyes with you and shot a smirk in your direction with a cocked eyebrow.

What was he doing here? Where was Sarah and who was looking after her? Not like that was any of your business. Out of all the local places, he chose this bar? Why? It was mainly just college students that frequented this place aside from the old regulars who were bitter there bar had been taken over by rowdy youngsters.

Your friend, Jen held her hand out to help you down from the table but the entire time your eyes were fixated from Joel, she looked over in that direction, caught who you were staring at and then she looked back at you with a shit-eating grin spread on her lips.

“Holy fuck, that’s him, isn’t it?!” She squealed, pulling your eyes from him long enough to grab your attention. “He’s hot.”

“Fuck. What’s he doing here?” You mumbled, glancing back over to him, his eyes were still on you and a smirk sat on his lips as he brought a drink up to his mouth. “And why’s he staring at me?! Fuck. It’s hot in here, I feel like I’m gonna pass out.” You rambled, shaking the thin fabric of your shirt, not that there was much material left covering you.

“He’s staring cause he thinks you’re hot, duh. Which for the record, I would stare too. Look at you!” She giggled, slapping your ass and you pushed her hand off you with a laugh. “He wants to fuck you!” She enthused in your ear and you shook your head as you blushed at her crass words.

“No way! I babysit his tween daughter. He’s probably just amused cause I’m normally a goody goody, like jeans and jumpers and being polite and well-mannered… you know not…” you gestured to your outfit.

“A total slut?” Jen offered up teasingly.

“Yeah yeah. I’m a massive whore, whatever. What shall I do?” You asked quietly, feeling nervous as you felt his eyes boring into the back of your skull.

“Give him a show; how long have you been saying your think he’s super hot?! I specifically remember being in this bar, not too long ago and you were drunk and crying and trying to message him to tell him how you feel.” Jen recalled and you cringed, you had just broken up with a somewhat serious boyfriend and you had a major crush on Joel, you still do but in your drunken and sad state you tried to message him to tell him. Luckily Jen had taken your phone away from you that night.

“Oh god, don’t remind me.” You whined. “Okay, fine, come and dance with me? I wanna see if he watches.” You giggled and with that, Jen lead you to the small dance floor in the bar.

The lights were low but every so often, one of the brightly coloured spotlights would catch your features. You danced with your friend, facing one another, you swayed your hips seductively as she held you close and you kept your eyes locked on Joel’s the entire time. He hadn’t taken his gaze from yours from the moment he walked in, not even to talk to Tommy. As they spoke you could sense the distraction from a distance away.

You kept up this game the entire evening, only stopping to occasionally get another drink or disappear to use the restroom. Joel watched you closely and he would be lying if he didn’t admit he wanted you, so badly. From the moment he walked in and saw you dancing the way you were, he wanted you. It was a stark contrast to the girl who babysat his daughter; the polite college student who called him ‘Mr. Miller’ and helped around his house if he worked late, just so it made things easier for him.

Joel adjusted himself in his jeans for what like the hundredth time that night and he gave his brother a quick hug before the younger male left the bar. He should go home, go and relieve Maria, Tommy’s wife, of babysitting duties for the night but Tommy insisted it was fine and he could pick up Sarah tomorrow morning. He sipped his whiskey and continued to watch the way your body swayed to the music, his eyes followed up your legs hungrily and he wanted to pull that impossibly short skirt up further and bury himself deep in you. It took everything within him to not groan aloud as you dropped to the floor in a low squat and bounced before bringing your body back up and shaking your ass.

Your friend’s around you giggled as you did it and they slapped at your ass playfully. You laughed and turned to face Joel again, swaying your behind onto the lap of one of your friend’s. It was fairly normal for you to dance like that with your best friend’s but they all knew tonight there was an ulterior motive, you were just doing anything to drive the older male insane.

You locked eyes with Joel and let your hands stroke up your body; from the hem of your shortened skirt, up, up, and up until they landed on your breasts. You danced filthily and gave them a small squeeze before your fingers landed in your hair and you ruffled it with your eyes closed. You knew you had caught the attention of quite a few men that night and you didn’t care, all you wanted was Joel’s gaze. And you had it.

That was it, Joel had enough. Enough of this cat and mouse game where your eyes chased each other hungrily and the male’s gaze practically undressed you in the middle of the bar. He closed the space between you and soon, he was stood in front of you and was hovering over your smaller frame.

You smiled sheepishly. “Oh! Hi Mr. Miller, didn’t see you there.” You lied with a giggle.

Jen had walked away, dragging your friend’s with her, leaving you alone as soon as Joel approached, she stood by the bar and gossiped with your closest friends.

“Not polite to lie, darlin’.” Joel’s Southern drawl only more apparent now he had a few drinks in his system. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eye-fucking me all night. Moving that little body of yours in such a filthy way.” He groaned lowly and glanced down to his crotch.

You couldn’t help the way a smile spread across your lips, your gaze followed Joel’s and there it was, it was dark in the bar but even you couldn’t deny the way his hard member showed in jeans. You couldn’t quite believe you had that effect on the older male.

“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t be such a perv. I’ve just been dancing with my friends.” You laughed, reaching up on tiptoes to speak into the male’s ear as the music boomed around you.

“Oh is that so? So you grabbing your breasts in front of everyone… that’s what you normally get up to?” Joel asked lowly, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

You replied with a smug smile and a simple shrug. Joel’s body thrummed with jealousy and he pulled you closer by gripping your hips.

“If you were mine, I would take you home and punish you so hard that every-time you sat down, you would think about my cock filling you up and my hand spanking your ass.” He growled into your ear and your body shuddered helplessly against him. Dancing for Joel all evening had definitely riled you up but now, with his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and his lips brushing against your ear with filthy words, you felt yourself get wetter.

“Joel—“ you whispered, a little more breathless than you originally anticipated. “I want you. So bad. I’ve wanted you since the first time we met.” You admitted, the alcohol making your lips a little looser than preferred.

“I’m going to go out to the bathrooms, meet me there in two minutes so it doesn’t look so obvious.” He said into your ear before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

Joel left and you stood there dumbfounded and a little shaky, Jen came running over squealing drunkenly.

“What. The. Fuck!” She yelled above the music and you had to ground yourself for a moment.

“Fuck,” you breathed and placed a flat hand to your chest to calm down the hammering of your heart. “He uh, he wants to meet in the bathroom. I can’t fuck him in the bathroom!” You whined ludicrously. “That’s cheap and gross, right?!” You questioned, debating what to do.

“Girl, we’ve all been there.” Jen shrugged as you looked at her in shook. “Fine, not all of us but, I mean, I would go for it. When are you gonna get another chance to literally fuck the guy of your dreams!” She encouraged and that’s all you needed.

She gave you a final hug and watched you wander off out back to the bathrooms, you glanced back at her once and raised your middle finger in her direction as you saw her dry humping the air and moaning.

You laughed as you entered the bathroom area, just like the rest of the bar, the lights were dimmed and the music still boomed loudly throughout, only now it was mainly the bass that remained. Your head span as you gently pushed each door until, gotcha. Joel was stood in the stall, waiting for you, he pulled you in by your arm and just as you were in, he pushed you up against the stall door and locked it shut.

The kiss that he placed to your lips was messy and far from romantic but you could feel the unspoken words of want and lust, he held your hips and brought your legs around his waist to he could hold the weight of your body against the bathroom stall.

You moaned softly as you were lifted, Joel manoeuvred your body with such ease it made you gasp under him. Your fingers locked around the back of Joel’s neck as you kissed; you’re breathed in his scent from his heady, woody cologne to the vague taste of cigarette smoke and whiskey on his breath.

“We gotta be quick otherwise people will get suspicious.” Joel groaned frustratedly knowing he couldn’t have his full way you.

You nodded and with that, Joel was holding you up with one arm as his free hand went down to unbuckle his jeans and belt so he could free his hard length. Joel’s strength didn’t waiver for a second as he freed his cock, he hissed as the cool air hit his damp tip and with that he was pulling your panties to the side and pressing the head of his length into you.

You whimpered weakly as he pushed into you, inch by inch, your back arched off the bathroom stall’s door and you clumsily fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, you undid it fully to reveal the black lacy material of your bralet. It was sheer and your hardened nipples showed through the material, it made Joel’s mouth water and he bucked up into you with fervour.

A moan fell from your lips as he fucked up into, you felt cheap and dirty but it only made the whole experience hotter. Joel clamped a hand over your mouth and looked into your fearful eyes.

“You gotta be quiet for me, baby. Can’t have anyone come in here and hear us fuckin’.” He growled lowly into your ear and you nodded under him. “I’m gonna put you down, you face the door and stick that ass out for me to take.” He whispered and released your body from his grip, you took your position as instructed.

You felt Joel’s body behind you, he kicked your feet apart with his own and slammed your hips back to meet his cock. You bit on your lip to stop the moan that so badly wanted to escape. Joel held your hips tightly, your panties still bunched up to the sides and he fucked into your feverishly. The bar’s music echoed louder as someone entered the restroom and panic rose in your body, Joel brought a hand around to your mouth and shoved two fingers into your parted lips. You sucked on his digits to keep the sounds of arousal at bay and Joel breathily groaned lowly as you did so.

When the person left shortly after, he removed his fingers from your mouth and brought them down to circle your clit quickly. You gasped in a deep breath and your eyes snapped shut.

“G-going to, fuck, Joel.” You whined quietly not even being able to release the words from your mouth.

“Shhh, I know. That’s it, cum.” He hushed and snapped his hips forward roughly.

That was all the confirmation you needed and you were cumming around Joel’s length with shaky breaths, your fingers clenched against the bathroom stall door as you searched for leverage to keep yourself up right as Joel worked you through your orgasm.

When he was sure you had finished, he was pulling out of you and spinning you around, your vagina clenched around air with a low whine and he smirked at you.

“Wanna cum in these little panties.” Joel stated and you nodded eagerly. “Wanna see you back out there with my seed soaking into them for the rest of the night.”

Your skirt was hitched up around your stomach and Joel snatched your panties down so he could catch a better look at them.

He took your hand and wrapped it tightly around his cock; you soon got the idea and stroked it enthusiastically. Joel breathed deeply as you worked him to his orgasm and soon, he was spilling his seed over your pussy and the dark fabric of your panties. It was such a stark contrast, his white cum and your black panties. This was by far, the filthiest thing you had done.

Your name fell off Joel’s lips breathily as his cock twitched with the finally remnants of his orgasm and he kissed you quickly. You simply smiled at the man and pulled up your completely wrecked panties with a small shudder.

“You still okay to look after Sarah next Thursday evening? No wild parties planned?” He asked teasingly and you giggled with a shake of your head.

“No Mr. Miller, no parties planned at all.” You said sweetly, a complete opposite to your actions from mere minutes ago.

“Good girl. I’ll see you then, and once Sarah has gone to bed, maybe I could give you a little extra payment for being so good.” Joel winked, he kissed your cheek and with that, he left the bathroom stall and the bar completely.

You gave it a few minutes before you reappeared again. You checked your appearance in the mirror after you adjusted your skirt and shirt. Your hair was messy and your cheeks had a pink dusting on them. You looked fucked in all sense of the word and you knew it would be obvious to most people, not that you overly cared.

Jen clocked you as soon as you came out of the bathroom, you shot her a wink and blew her a kiss as you collected your bag and headed home. You needed to clean up, rest and crash for the night. Joel Miller had wrecked you and you didn’t care for a second, in fact, you were thrilled about it.

—————————————————————

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x babysitter!reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal

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napunk-history · 4 months

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Lunachicks

Babysitters On Acid (1990)

#NAPUNK #LUNACHICKS

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nethhiri · 1 month

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Marooned: Chapter 18

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: murder, violence

The Gang Learns Backstory

It wasn't the first time you'd been in a cell, and it wouldn't be the last, well, if you survived. You were buried in the soft rise and fall of Mini's side, facing the wall. It felt like a whale had been dropped on you, followed by a train running you over. You couldn't move, your body hurt so badly. It wasn't just ribs that were broken, you realized, it was also one of your arms. Your hands were sealed into fists by the dried blood and stiffness of being inflamed. Trying to open them was excruciating. The cold weight of shackles was starting to register in your mind, though you could tell they weren't seastone. You knew someone was in the same room, outside the cell, and chose to ignore them. Probably a babysitter since they didn't have seastone.

At least the acid stopped burning after a few minutes. You wished they had just left you in the ocean. You wished that you would stop hurting so badly so you could think of a way out. If your ribs could just stop aching for a few minutes, if they could just mend themselves. Wait.You didn't dare look, for fear that it would stop, but you swear that as you thought about it, the pain diminished. You put all your attention into picturing how you felt when you were in your normal state, risking a glance down. That's new. A faint light radiated from underneath your shirt. Maybe any part of you had the ability to channel your powers, not just your hands. You had never tried it, thinking you had to make contact with your hands specifically.

You took a deep breath in, testing your ribs. It wasn't perfect, but the pain was tolerable. Same thing with your arm and your hands. Now, your hands were sore with pink lines where the skin was healing. You stared down at them, flipping them over to inspect. You stretched the stiffness out of your body, rolling over with your back against Mini. It turned out Killer was the one babysitting you. You glared at him, absentmindedly petting Mini with your elbows resting against her belly. A smirk played at your lips, thinking how they couldn't have just anybody watching you. The second in command, presumably the second strongest member of the crew, had to be assigned the task. You were a real threat.

"You see now, why I kept my history to myself?" Your gravelly voice bounced off the walls. "And before you say something, no, it wouldn't have been better if I had come right out with it. You and I both know that."

Killer made an almost imperceivable nod. He held a piece of paper in his hand that looked like it had been forgotten about for a while. "Is this really you?" He flipped around the tattered flyer to reveal your old wanted poster.

You got up and shoved your hand between the bars, shackles clanking against them. "Give me that." You snatched it from his grasp and returned to your boar throne. You touched the face of old Y/N. Ex-Capt. F/N 'Sea Snake' L/N: Marine Killer. She was more beautiful, more fearless, and thought she was untouchable. You could heal the scars that marred your face. You chose not to, as a reminder of what happened to you and what you had to do. Even so, you longed to be like the old you. You knew better now, that you still had things in life to fear, and you were far from untouchable, but you wished you were still ignorant of those things. You didn't care much for how you looked, but you would be lying if you claimed you didn't want your old face back, the one without the scars on the inside. Wet drops fell onto the poster in your hands. Wiping at your eyes, you didn't even realize you were crying, or why. Suddenly you felt small. You hoped Killer hadn't noticed, as you tried to stifle sniffles. You cleared your throat and tossed it back at Killer. "Where'd you find that? Under your captain's pillow next to Boa Hancock's?" The crack in your voice betrayed you. If he noticed, he didn't show it.

He didn't reply, but he picked the poster up. "Your bounty is pretty high. How many did you get?"

You dried your eyes with your shoulders and scoffed, "Not enough." The shackles on your wrists made metallic complaints as you used your devil fruit to remove and reshape them. "You don't have to make small talk with me." They took your gunblade again, but left you with regular metal shackles. That didn't make sense to you since you could easily make another one with the metal, though not as high quality. You could also get out of the cell you were caged in. Probably why Killer had his punishers resting behind him.

"M'not," He said, placing the poster down and resting his elbows on his knees. "Asking because I want to know."

You considered this. Killer wasn't one to waste words. "You want to know?" A prideful sneer crawled onto your face. "Ok. In the infirmary, there's a locked cabinet with the rest of my things. Bring them to me." You continued fiddling with the metal.

Killer searched your face for deception. Not finding any, he went to the top of the stairs and asked someone to retrieve them. Now, he was really curious. Mostly curious as to why no one searched your shit. He would have to find out who was responsible for that little slip up later. A few minutes later, Heat came down the stairs holding a parcel of fabric and handed it to Killer.

Both of you looked at him, as if to ask if he was leaving. "What? I wanna see." You could swear you saw a pink tinge to his face. "I'm ... a fan." He pretended to look down at what you were doing to half-hide his face.

You snickered, "Oh so it was your pillow my poster was under." Heat gave you a questioning look.

Killer shook his head. He didn't make a sound but his shoulders moved up and down. Slowly, you watched him remove the fabric holding everything in place. First, there was a pouch holding the valuables that had washed up during your time as a castaway, which Killer placed into his back pocket.

You frowned, "That's mine."

"And now it's mine. Consider it payment for keeping you in one piece." Kid had wanted to make sure you didn't go anywhere. Killer insisted that instead of cutting your feet off, he would keep an eye on you personally. It took some convincing that you probably wouldn't want to heal him if he did anything to you, seeing as you already didn't want to comply.

The metal in your hands groaned, as if it was complaining on your behalf. Scowling, you decided to keep your mouth shut. You knew he had to have held Kid back from doing any further harm to you after you blacked out, judging by how enraged Kid was and comparatively how much of you had been left attached. You were grateful for that much. Fixing smaller injuries was easy, but replacing things was not within your scope.

Killer went on to unfold the only other thing in the bundle, a white coat. You were delighted by Heat's enthusiastic reaction, to nearly snatch it away from Killer. "You're holding it wrong!" Heat flipped it around so Killer could see. "See!?" It was a mockery of a marine captain's uniform. The coat was a patchwork quilt, a collection of the "Justice" symbols sewn together. Each symbol had been cut from the jacket of a captain-rank marine. There were enough to make a full coat. Some of them had tears or holes through the center that had been mended. Some still had the faint outlines of bloodstains.

"Those are just the ones with jackets." The metal in your hands stopped glowing as a replica gunblade lay in your lap. "There were underlings, too." You extended your palm and motioned for them to hand it over. When they were through looking at it, Heat stuck his heat through the bars and tossed it towards you.

Slipping it on for the first time since you washed up on shore, you took in the familiar smell of gunpowder and the iron, metallic scent of old blood. It was a reinvigorating feeling, like you were slowly gathering pieces of yourself. All you were missing was the heavy steel of your real gunblade at your hip and your feet on the bow of Fate's Wraith, wind and salt spray caressing your face. You never thought about getting your ship back. The thought of corrupt marines commandeering though...

You were shaken from your daydream by Heat, who asked, "What made you..." He seemed to try rephrasing the question, "How did you..." His voice faded, thinking it was unwise to ask.

"Why did I do it?" Heat's eyes snapped to look at you. Even Killer seemed to lean forward. You had never spoken to anyone about it before. The only people who knew were you and the three people you had left to kill. If you were going to die here, you might as well tell them. To think the Kid Pirates, of all people, would be the keepers of my history. You didn't want the deeds you were the most proud of to be lost to history, after all. "I joined the marines because I thought that the structure would be better than continuing to live on an island run by chaos and crime. I thought I was on the 'good' side. One day, I found out that there was some secret skin trading happening within our ranks. I took it to a superior, thinking that he would put an end to it and punish those people. Instead, he asked if I wanted in." You ran your hand through Mini's coat to lower your blood pressure. "That's the day I learned there was no 'good' side. My entire career was a lie. It's every man for himself. So I decided I would be the justice I wanted to see in the world and painted the wall of his office with his own brain. Did the same with the others. It was already bad enough we had to watch Celestial Dragons do it, yet I looked past it because I was told to." You adjusted yourself to be more comfortable. "At that point I didn't care what happened. I didn't want to be a marine anymore. I found some people that felt the same, took off on a ship, and started picking off the worst of them. Until..." You stopped there. They didn't need to know the rest. The old memories stirred up anger and a bit of pride. "And I would do it again, too."

It was silent but for the sound of lapping waves outside. "You're from the South Blue, aren't you?" Killer guessed. "Where?"

Before you could answer, Minerva got up from behind you, causing you to fall backwards before catching yourself. You were about to protest, but the way Mini's fur was at end gave you pause. It was apparent why. Stomping reverberated down the hall until Kid came into view. The boar had placed herself between you and he. "It's okay, Mini." You were touched that she wanted to defend you, though worried about what could happen to her if she tried.

"Fuck are ya all down here for?!" He eyed Heat, who promptly left. Kid didn't need to say anything more for Killer to vacate also. The masked man's hand lingered on Kid's shoulder on his way out. Kid's gaze switched to you and he held his hand out, limply. "Fix this shit!"

#kid x reader x killer #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #marooned #one piece #x reader #sorry I made y'all wait it was so busy this week #soon all this angst will be rewarded I swear #Heat is so cute y'all I can't

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caramel----comforter · 1 month

Text

Running Blind (i)

Next>> Word count: ~500 words

Warnings: Serious Injury, Blindness, Aftermath of Torture, Non-consensual Body Modification, Dehumanization, Possible Child Death

Tags: POV Slade Wilson, Angst, Choose the Ending

The kid's clinging to his leg, the kid's clinging to his leg. He's bawling his eyes out from under the crusted domino mask that's still stuck to his face after God-knows-how-long in the damn Asylum. "Sir, please, please, I'll be good, please don't hurt me, please" This was not a part of the deal-it was supposed to be simple. In and Out. Kill the prisoner in the bowels of the Asylum, easy two mil, In and Out. He was supposed to be at his safe house, sleeping his ass off. "Please, not again-please-I've learned my lesson-please" That was before he'd found out that the prisoner was a kid-Robin of all people- the nosy bastard that mouthed off at any given opportunity and had broken his leg in three places. The kid that's clinging to his healed leg now, begging for mercy as if he's gotten it before. "Please-", his hoarse voice is grating on his already worn-out nerves, still high and bordering on puberty, hoarse from abuse, scraping against his eardrums like steel wool. The kid's clinging to his leg, and not letting go. And he can't move, as if the entire atmosphere is weighing him down, the smell of rot and piss and vomit, and the sheer amount of misery in the air. "Kid, I'm not going to hurt you, you need to let go", he grits out for the umpteenth time, he's lost count of how many times he's said it, but the fever seems to have cooked all the kid's higher functions because he's latched onto him, deep in delirium and calling out for the Bat, then Alfred, then Nightwing, then Batgirl. At least he's stopped begging for the man who left him in there to rot. He should be glad he supposes, that he finally knows each of their identities now, but the revelation tastes of acid and makes nausea roll in his gut. "Sir, please, I can't see- S-Sir, please", his voice cracks halfway, he's just a teen, still so small from malnutrition and abuse. His crooked fingers are digging bruises into his leg, the skin around his eyes is reddened and peeling from infection, half of his face is swollen from bruises and distinct hand-prints, and the brand- the damned brand-blistering and black and leaking pus-pink, rotting flesh peaking through it. At the lack of a reaction, the kid lets out a desperate keen that echoes through the halls littered with bodies and vermin- anguished and damning the ghosts into the deepest hell. Slade doesn't believe in God, but he believes in Hell. And the kid has been in it, for months. "Bruce-Bruce please-I'm sorry, I tried to stop him-please-I'll be better-I can be useful-please don't leave me here-please-please Dad-", He's started going off about his shitty father again, it's going to be Alfred after this-then- The boy looks so small-in his battered Robin uniform, that sits around his wasted body like a filthy, oversized shroud. So breakable-as if a stray wind is going to make him fall into a hundred grief-stricken pieces. "Dad-I'm sorry-Please-P-please don't leave-please-" The feeble thread holding his patience together finally snaps, and he digs out a sedative on auto-pilot.

[Like if you wish to be added to the taglist]

#jason todd #arkham knight #arkhamverse #slade wilson #Jason Todd angst #jason todd fanfiction #Choose your own ending

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dragonrider9905 · 1 year

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Heart Made of Flesh

Hello @echos-girlfriend! I'm your Secret Santa for @cloneficgiftexchange! I really hope you enjoy it :) @ghostofskywalker, thank you for setting this up!

Anyone else who reads, I hope you enjoy it too! Reblogs and comments welcome :)

Warnings: Talk of insecurity, self depreciation, allusions (very light) to suggestive behavior, talk of blood and wounds

Summery: You and Echo are more similar than you let on. You have a mechanical arm but don’t want that to be the only reason he connects with you. You also just don’t know how to tell him how you feel. A mission gone wrong should fix that for you, right?

You bit your lip harder, unconsciously drawing blood. You didn’t mean to stare but they just wouldn’t stop.

And it was rather annoying.

You tried to keep your gaze on your glass, multiple times forcing your eyes down, your breathing even, minding your own business but that just wasn’t working.

You and the Batch had gone to Cid’s for drinks after a particularly long mission. You all were tired, hungry, dirty—and apparently a little testy. Or at least that is what your case was. Most of the boys sat at a table in the center of the floor while you opted for the counter. It was getting a little uncomfortable, so you thought the boys wouldn’t notice your shifting or rotating your ‘arm’ if you were a little distance away. They definitely weren’t noticing you with all those pretty girls flirting with them.

Not too long ago, (but too long in your opinion) a Torgrutan, two Twi'leks and two human women came into Cid’s bar, for what was uncertain. They spotted the table of fine young men and immediately started flirting. Even though the boys tried to brush them off, they didn’t leave. Well the boys could have tried harder, the sour thought emerged from the dark, bitter place in the corner of your mind. You couldn’t help it. You knew you were being unfair but…

“You don’t look too good.” Omega broke through the mud in your mind, concerned eyes searched your face. “Are you ok?”

That was the other reason you felt they could have tried harder. Omega was right here sitting with you. (Granted they were Cid’s patrons and she threatened you bunch often enough about not scaring people away—or she’d deduct your pay and Hunter needed every credit he earned for his squad. You knew the boys were in an uncomfortable spot but still.)

You sighed. “Thanks hun, I’m fine.” You ruffled her hair, a burning sensation creeping up from your gut to your chest. Bile rumbled uncomfortably in your stomach, mixing with the alcohol and threatening your gag reflexes with acid. Not good. It wasn’t her fault you were feeling like her babysitter just so the guys could have fun. You loved Omega and wanted to spend time with her usually; her company was always a delight. This unusual resentment had a selfish stem and you knew it. It was because those strange women were flirting openly and carelessly with the man you had fallen deep, deep down for, but never had the courage to confront. The fact that they were spending time with someone close to you that by all rights…should be yours.

Yet he wasn’t. So you really didn’t have a right to feel that way. But you did. Shocker.

“Hey beautiful, I have an idea…” the Twi’lek whispered something in Echo’s ear, causing him to blush. He let his mouth open, shocked. You didn’t have to hear what she said to know what was implied, a subtle rage now coursing through your veins. Thank the Force Omega was oblivious.

You gripped the glass in your hand.

And shattered it.

Omega gasped at the soft crackle and crink. The pieces falling all around your hand and embedding themselves deep into the thick gloves you were wearing.

“Are you alright?” Omega’s eyes were blown out, hands covering her mouth in horror at the damage your right hand must be undergoing.

“On second thought, I am heading back to the ship. Go get Bolo to play a game of Djarik with you. Or better yet, ask one of your brothers. I need some air.” You got up quickly, hiding your hand that should be bleeding but wasn’t.

Without turning around, you left the bar. So, you didn’t see the commotion you left behind.

— — — —

You straddled Tech’s workbench, your own set of tools spread out before you. The tiny tools you carried with you at all times in case all the intricate wires in your false, mechanical arm needed to be fixed, fused or fidgeted with. You creased your brows in frustration, watching the yellow sparks fly as you worked the glass carefully from where it was embedded. A sewing kit was carelessly sitting at your side, as you’d have to fix your ruined glove as well. Sometimes you forgot what strength was in this arm.

You lost your right arm as a child. You’d learned how to cope with it and make it a “normal” part of your life. But a little part of you still was insecure about it so you’d always found a way to cover it up, hiding it physically and mentally from those around you, especially those closest to you. You’d only known the Batch since they came to work for Cid, but since then you grew close to them. And the closer you got, the harder it was to admit your insecurity, wondering if it would change their perception of you.

Ah crap. You felt the sharp edges pull from your false sensors and you cringed, clenching your jaw.

“Let me see that hand of yours.” A familiar husky voice broke through your brooding.

“Blow off, Hunter.”

Hunter was the only one who knew about your mechanical arm. He could smell the oil you used to keep it well functioning even though you custom made it to be without scent. His darn enhanced senses picked it up anyway, and thus you let him in on your little secret albeit reluctantly. It wasn’t by your choice how it came about…You knew he knew but he never brought it up…Until the night he found you trying to repair your arm after sustaining an injury. Your face was so red that first night he walked in on you, tears barely being held back while you tried in vain to fix it yourself in the dead middle of the night, he knew how important it was that no one knew.

“Ah, you’re just saying that.” he teased, letting the ghost of a smile appear. Hunter straddled the workbench facing you and grabbed your wrist, gently pulling it toward himself. He kept his gaze down, hyperfocused on rewiring your hand correctly and pulling the shrapnel from the fine work of machinery.

You looked up annoyed and sighed dramatically with a roll of your eyes. He smirked but otherwise stayed silent. You matched his quietness with an ante of sulkiness.

“You should just talk to him about how you feel, you know.”

“You don’t understand. NONE of you do! It’s not the same for me as it is for you guys. When men look at this, they automatically see me as incomplete and undesirable. Do you know how…how…” you choked up, swallowing hard. “You men always have an air of awe when there is a wound but a woman? I can’t tell you how embarrassing it is.”

“That’s not fair.” Hunter wasn’t one to sugar coat. “And you know it.”

You did, so you sucked on your swollen lip instead.

“Echo would understand, though. Wouldn’t you feel better being able to talk to him about some of this?”

“I know he does. He probably is the only one who does. But I don’t want to be pitied. And worse off, I don’t want him to like me just because we’re similar. I want him to like me for me…the way I love him for him.” You nearly whispered that last part.

Hunter sighed and gently said your name.

“Look, I’m sorry that we all made you uncomfortable and that we don’t understand what it is like. I really am.”

You looked up and saw his eyes searching the floor, as if it would give him the answer. His genuine concern melted your bitterness away, just like the night he’d found you.

“Hunter, it’s ok. I’m sorry too. You didn’t deserve that…I’m out of sorts and took it out on you; which was wrong. You may not understand but you’ve always tried to make me feel valued… and you never treated me differently, which I appreciate. Thank you.”

“Hey, I learned it from the best…that’s Echo, I mean. I learned it from Echo.”

A smile pulled at your lips. “Sure you did.”

— — — —

You didn’t think anyone would notice your absence but it most definitely was. Everyone heard the glass shatter, Hunter immediately slipped away slyly to check on you with a quick “I got this” and Omega ran right to Echo. She initially reached out to help you but you were faster in your quick departure. He stood up so fast, with such an angry outburst, worried about what happened (you shattered a kriffing glass in your hand?!) and it frightened the ladies away.

He felt concern rising from somewhere in his chest, written clearly on his brow. He took a step but Omega held onto his hand.

“Hunter said she was ok.”

“She’s hurt, I should go check on her…”

Granted, he knew how private of a person you were. You didn’t let anyone near you—ever—when you were injured, but your hand must be torn to shreds…he winced at the ghost pain that flared up in his own. He flexed it a few times to convince himself the cold, sharp shards he felt were in his mind and not real. His hand wasn’t really bleeding. It wasn’t hurt….he took a deep breath.

Echo needed to make sure you were ok. Even if you didn’t want to be helped…

“Echo, why don’t you just talk to her about how you feel?”

Echo eyed his large younger brother but found no hint of humor in Wrecker’s question. Instead, he saw that gentle gaze of honesty in his eyes.

“Because she deserves better. Plus, she’s not even interested. I don’t want to ruin our friendship by blabbering how I feel.”

“Did you notice the glass she shattered was only after that suggestive comment was made to you.” Tech adjusted his goggles. “She’s heard people flirt with us before on various missions and occasions. There is a special scowl that only appears when such an occurrence happens to you. She thinks she hides it well but she doesn’t. She never has such a negative reaction until you show up, Echo.”

“How is that relevant?”

“Are you asking a serious question?” Tech blinked. “Or are you trying to be jocular.”

“I literally have no clue what you are saying or trying to imply!” Echo threw his hands up, scowling in his voice as well as his expression.

“You don’t? Or don’t want to?” Wrecker raised his eyebrow.

Echo crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

“Echo, perhaps…” Omega nervously wrung her hands, obviously trying not to upset him, “maybe it would be better to say something sooner rather than later. Life’s too unpredictable. One day the person you care about is there and the next, they’re gone. Wouldn’t it be better to let that person know they’re loved than regretting never telling them?”

Echo sighed, shoulders dropping in a tired slump.

“Maybe you’re right,” he chuckled and ruffled her hair, “when’d you become so wise?”

“Eh, always was. Nice of you to notice.”

“So, you will take advice from Omega, and not us?” Tech fought a smirk.

“Yeah what’s with that?” Wrecker chimed in, visibly pleased.

“Didn’t you hear? Omega is the wisest.”

Echo ran his hand down his face with a sigh of anticipation. He knew he had to do this soon, but….a little time wouldn’t hurt right? He needed the right words.

— — — —

It was a few rotations later and the Batch was assigned a new mission from Cid…and Echo still hadn’t said anything to you. He pointedly ignored his brothers’ silent prompts and either sighed or shrugged at Omega with a “it’s not a good time” or “I don’t know what to say yet.”

The job was a two parter.

Hunter paired you up with Echo for the intel, Tech would stay on the ship with Omega to be ready for a quick get away, while Wrecker and Hunter went for the cargo that was demanded. None of you knew what the two pieces had in common, especially on a pirate ship, but you were getting paid a good price. Hunter initially wanted to turn down the job but the credits were needed, and Cid didn’t give much room for negotiation.

“You ready?” Echo had some strain in his voice.

“Yeah, how hard can an extraction be?” You shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

Echo opened his mouth and shut it a few times, flustered, searching for words.

“Just keep your head up.” He finally said, putting on his helmet and hiding his face. Not really what you wanted to hear…he sighed then walked away. You stood there for a few minutes, digesting the strange conversation. Echo never acted this weird before a mission.

You wanted to ask him about it but never got the chance, it was time to board.

— — — —

Something went wrong. Hunter and Wrecker gave you and Echo the signal they had the cargo but you were still getting the intel. They headed back to the ship to make sure the crate was secure. Apparently, from the sounds of Wrecker’s grunting, it was heavy.

“Echo, come on, hurry up!” You trained your blaster down the halls, looking left and right. Your brows scrunched up and sweat beaded your forehead.

“Almost got it. Be patient.” he snapped back.

“Echo…I have a strange feeling. I don’t like this.” You turned to see your reflection staring back at you with a strange expression on Echo’s visor. His head was turned at a curious angle, his breathing slightly heavier. He always took your feelings seriously; at better times he joked that they rivaled the Jedi’s ‘feelings’.

“Okay, hold tight.”

Was there slight fear in his voice?

“Echo?” Now your breathing started to increase rapidly. You’d never felt this unsettled on a mission.

You didn’t have time to ponder more, shots came out of nowhere. You threw yourself in front of Echo and started firing back.

Karking pirates.

“I got it! Let’s go!” You felt Echo pull his scomp out of the portal and wrap his arm around your waist. You’ve done this move before. There was a door next to you. You’d just roll over each other into the other room…but something caught your eye. The door opened, a sneaky pirate trying to get at Echo from the back. He raised his arm to aim and…

Bam!

The shot went off; but before it did, you twisted yourself in front of Echo. Shots rang out (you assumed Echo shot the man behind you) in unison with your scream. You heard Echo shouting your name in panic, pulling your writhing body behind the door, and barricading you on the other side. His calls went from panic to insistent now, then confused. He expected blood…not sparks.

You peeled your eyes open and brought your other hand up to detach your arm. The flames crawling up to your brain telling you your arm was shreds immediately stopped. You heaved a breath and sat up.

“Shoot.” You mumbled, looking at the shambles your arm was in. How many times had that pirate shot it?

“Hey, you ok?” Echo removed his helmet and his eyes were searching your body. “What were you doing? You could have gotten killed!” Despite his reprimand, his voice was soft, probably still processing what happened.

“I was thinking I didn’t want to see you dead.”

“I don’t want you dead either.”

“J-just he-lp me, will you?” You started scooping up the pieces into your pack. Echo quickly came to help.

“Your balance will be off a little, will you be ok if I rigged the ship?”

“Yeah, yeah,” still trying to catch your breath, you wanted to give an air of confidence though, “go for it.”

Echo stuck his hand back into the scomp and commed the boys. You tuned it out, the world (the ship) around you starting to shake. You knew you were spiraling but you couldn’t stop it.

He knew. Now what was going to happen? He took that rather well. He was sort of ignoring it and you didn’t know if you were relieved or upset.

And…how lucky were you that it was that arm, and not your good one?

You hugged your pack. It felt a little morbid carrying pieces of your arm in your pack. It was mechanical but still. It had been a part of you for so long, it was so strange. Echo’s hand appeared on your shoulder, giving it a grounding squeeze.

“We have to get to the hanger! They’ll meet us there!”

Your musings would have to wait.

— — — —

The ship was falling apart. Explosions wrecking the hangar and surrounding you and Echo with fire, causing the ship to shake and the floor to become unstable.

“Echo look out!” Your warning came too late. Echo was knocked off his feet from an explosion next to him. The force pushed him out the hanger and plummeting toward the earth below. You cried out in terror, shrieking as you threw yourself toward the edge. Echo had grappled onto a loose piece of the ship. You wrapped your legs around some metal beams where the wall of the ship was blown away. You then balanced your body so it could support the extra weight of the one you were trying to reach. It was difficult not having the balance of your other arm.

“Take my hand!” You shouted above the din.

“No! If I do you’ll fall too! I can’t let you die!”

“Why not? I can’t let you die either, you idiot!”

“What do you mean ‘why not?”

“Just shut up and take my hand or I swear I’ll jump.”

Echo didn’t move so you started shimming closer, loosening your grip a little. That seemed to spook him so he darted his hand in your direction. You stretched out your hand further to meet his and gripped him hard as he let go. You were now his only lifeline.

“Alright! You are so stubborn.”

“Only because I love you, you idiot.”

“You’ve said that….wait, you love me?”

It was almost as if you could see the look of shock through his helmet. You started to chuckle, looking at his dazed dangling form. The piece he was hanging from fell not two minutes later.

“You’ll have to climb…I can’t pull you up!”

Darn fine time to lose your arm again.

You felt like your rib cage splitting in two from the pressure. You couldn’t remember the last time your breathing felt so constrained. Every breath in stretched your chest impossibly farther, trying to lift the invisible bantha sitting there, every exhale set your chest on fire. Echo’s hand gripped your good arm and his scomp dug into your flesh. You wanted to cry out but couldn’t. An invisible hand gripped your throat as you pulled, trying to get him to the ledge.

Then Echo slipped a little. Another explosion went off and jolted you. You had to fight hard to keep your grip even if your balance was lost.

“Co-ome o-ohn Eeekoo, don’t. Give. Up. Climb!”

“Mesh’la, you have to let me go. I’m too heavy. Save yourself. I need you to be safe.”

“D-don’t you dare gih-ive up.” Tears were streaming down your eyes now and you didn’t care. “Don’t ask me to do that.”

Echo’s grip loosened a little, and your heart, already overworked, started to increase its speed. “I can’t let you die either; because I love you too. I’ve loved you so long and should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“Echo, don’t let go, please.”

“Mesh’la…”

“Echo, stop speaking gibberish and use the strength to climb instead of talk!”

You had to imagine the smile on Echo’s face. You felt the hardened grip return, along with the agonizing feeling of being split in half. You started to count to keep yourself calm.

“One…two…three…”

The world around you was falling away. Not just literally from the sky but the ceiling and walls started to blur, black clouded the edges of your vision.

“Seven…eight…nine…”

Then a buzzing sound broke through the haze. It sounded familiar…close…Echo whooped. It got closer…and closer…then the lights and hum of The Marauder announced its saving presence. You heard the hatch open and the shouts of the others. Echo’s grip suddenly disappeared and his weight was gone. Air forced its way into your lungs in a gasp. You wanted to call out to Echo but your energy was gone. You heaved and started to lift yourself.

Until a chunk of metal came falling down, smashing your body.

Shoot.

You couldn’t move. Your body crushed to the floor, the ship started to shift, gravity pulling you out the door. Your head slammed against another falling object, hard enough to draw blood, dizzying enough to disorient you, but not enough to knock you out. The taste of copper made itself known to your tongue, soon your whole mouth felt the presence of a hot liquid. The black specks returned. They danced and spun, swirling with the flames as your world tilted.

Your body started to slide in the opposite direction, a hot sticky trail left in your wake. You clamped your eyes shut and found you couldn’t open them.

Well this is it…

Footsteps skidded next to you, shouting grated against the complaining durasteel that creeped and groaned as it was ripping apart, the durasteel was lifted from your body. Strong arms wrapped themselves around you, the distinct feeling of a hand cradling your head and the hard inflexibility of a scomp supporting you. A gentle voice you’d know anywhere whispered:

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to fall, you aren’t either.”

You started to chuckle but a coughing fit replaced the giggle.

“Y-you got to go before the whole thing falls.”

“I’m not leaving you. We end this thing together. Hold on. It’ll be okay, okay? Just stay with me here.”

“Th-e world i-is black…Echo…”

His name stumbling out your mouth was the last thing to ring in your ears.

— — — —

You had the various pieces of your false arm scattered about, fidgeting with a piece here and there but not really doing anything with it. The despondency you felt starting from scratch made you wonder if it was even worth it. You reached up and felt around the stump on your shoulder. The uneven scars, the healed over tissue, the ghost of what was, teasing you in their silent haunting.

Your hand then slipped to your bandaged ribs. Apparently, according to Wrecker (talking excitedly while Echo blushed feverishly in silence), Echo had let himself down onto the boarding ramp and looked up expecting you to follow. When you didn’t, he jumped back up without a second thought onto the unsteady, crashing doomed ship and watched helplessly as…well Wrecker didn’t make you relive it. That was nice of him.

Echo apparently also didn’t let anyone touch you, too busy bandaging you up himself, barking orders at everyone to get the supplies he needed to wrap your middle and head.

Wrecker said he’d never seen Echo so “frantic”. It was hard to imagine as Echo was only ever calm….don’t worry, Wrecker re-enacted it for you (until Hunter ushered him through a door and left you alone with the man almost combusting from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” Omega whispered to him before slipping out herself, “she already knows. And don’t mind Wrecker, he’s just happy it’s finally happening.”

The memory faded and the silk between your ribs and fingers became real again. Echo hadn’t said anything to you. He’d only taken your hand and squeezed it tight, not looking you in the eye for the longest time.

“I may have a body of steel…but I’ve got a heart made of flesh, believe it or not, it’s real. And it’s yours. It beats for you. Don’t forget that, please. We’re the same, and I couldn’t have loved you more. I wish you could have told me about it…because I know.”

With the whisper he left. Despite the ship being small, he had avoided you for an entire rotation already. You knew he was around, you’d heard Hunter talking to him, but you didn’t seek him out.

You looked down uncertainly at your project again and sighed heavily.

Maybe remaking it isn’t an option. You could ask Tech or Hunter…in a few days. You didn’t feel like this now…maybe you shouldn’t fix it at all. Maybe this was the key to stop working for Cid.

The door opened with a whoosh, footsteps clomping a path toward you. A body slumped on the floor next to you and you felt Echo’s leg brush your own. The contact made your heart leap, eyes darting toward him to find his signature smirk on his face. You scowled and looked away. Your throat was sore and the lump you swallowed only made you feel pitiful.

“I’m sorry…I needed time. Thank you for giving that to me.”

You nodded, eyes ahead.

“Hunter told me why you didn’t tell me…I figured that but hearing it also pushed me out of my slump. I know you didn’t owe me anything, not an explanation or anything, but I can’t let a moment go by without telling you that this doesn’t change how I see you….I was hurt that you thought I’d …. well it does and it doesn’t, let me start there. It doesn’t because I love you, but it does because I know how brave you’ve been. How could I not admire that! You’re beautiful to me no matter what. Don’t doubt your worth or your beauty which is more than superficial because of this.”

You choked on a sob and Echo brought his arm around slowly, giving you time to shrug him off if you wanted or to move away. Instead, you leaned into his touch.

He leaned close to your ear. “Tell me where to start and we’ll have it back together in no time.”

“I-I don’t think I can, Echo.”

Tears started to well in your eyes. You couldn’t do this again.

“I…I’m so tired. Of all of it.”

“You don’t have to do this alone; we will do it together.”

Echo took his real hand with his real fingers and entwined them with your own real hand. You could feel the warmth through his gloves and it went right to your heart. The courage that fled you long ago started to return. Your throat was swollen, so you nodded instead, lips turning up in a smile.

“Together.”

“But first, I have to finish fixing something else…”

You looked at him confused, cocking your head to the side, eyes still glistening from the unshed sorrow.

He chuckled but his next words came out airy and nervous.

“Your heart…”

He leaned in slowly, soft lips latching onto yours. He smiled when you gasped and nearly laughed when you pulled him closer, hand gripping his collar like your lifeline.

“Hey, stop laughing. You have a lot of fixing to do.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Yeah, the arm could wait.

Both your hearts needed some healing, and a kiss was the perfect medicine.

#reader insert #echo x reader #echo x female reader #echo x you #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb x reader #tbb echo #clone force 99 #fanfiction #fanfic #the bad batch #angst with a happy ending #angst and fluff #fluff and angst

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vomits0cutely · 6 days

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The skittles / the emeralds and random fears I’ve made for them (ik a person with one of these fears)

Regulus Black:

- He is terrified of hot concrete, once Sirius told him his shoes would melt and it would melt his feet as well and he didn’t believe him and still went walking on in, and the bottoms of his shoes did, infact, melt and he was terrified his feet would melt, still won’t walk on it.

Pandora Rosier/Lovegood:

- When she was 8 she snuck out of her bedroom, when she was supposed to be sleeping, and went outside to try and get a pet snail, didn’t find one, but found a bird instead and, somehow, managed to get it and she brought it back it side and slept with it still in her hands, and out of fear the bird had a heart attack, and she made everyone be there for the funeral and is still afraid of people being near or too close to birds.

Evan Rosier:

- Was out on a walk with a babysitter and Pandora went they were 6 and decided he wanted to try climb the tree with Pandora, but Pandora said he was too little (because she was bigger then him as a baby) but he ignored her and got the babysitter to help him. Then Pandora said that he will fall into the hole in the tree (the squirrel home) and he’ll get stuck in there, and scare the squirrels. The babysitter laughed and brought them back inside and now he will never climb a tree with a squirrel home in it, even though he won’t fit in the holes.

Barty crouch Jr:

- A rude maid once told him he couldn’t have honey in his tea while he was sick, because she was too lazy to go get it but she lied and told him, honey doesn’t go off and it will stay inside of him forever and if it mixes with the acid in his stomach he’ll explode. Then he asked his father if honey goes off and he said “no, of course it doesn’t.”, so now he hates honey.

#ik they wouldn’t have babysitters and would have elf’s but let’s pretend <3 #they be firing mean ppl I swear #regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #skittle squad #slytherin skittles #skittles squad #marauders era #fears #marauders headcanon #the emeralds #the emeralds headcanons #skittle squad headcanon #slytherin headcanons

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jaksalot · 1 year

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League of Villains x Child!Reader

fAll Platonic of course

I’m thinking you, reader, were a grown up and a hero at that

That is until you were hit by a villains quirk and were kidnapped and taken to the LOV before the heroes could save you

Having no memories and being helpless Shigaraki thought this was the perfect opportunity to take you down.

But, unfortunately, Toga and Twice stopped him

Saying something about how cute you are

So he spared you, for now

Toga!

Toga’s a terrible babysitter, I don’t know what to tell you

She almost stabbed you on three different occasions to make you not sad anymore

When she isn’t trying to stab you, she’s like a big sister(that has issues)

She’ll often take you to the mall and be called an excellent by sister by the oblivious people around her

She’ll most definitely steal thing from the store

But it’s for you!

She loves to let you play with her knives

She dresses you up in little cardigans and dresses no matter what gender you are

She’ll do your hair too, even though you might hate it, she’ll sit you down and demand to do your hair

She was denied babysitting privileges after the league found you surrounded by knives

If you gave her a deku plushie, or something that even remotely reminded her of Izuku, she’ll love you until the end of the world.

Her hugs are very scary

Mostly because she’ll breath in your ear and tell you how much you mean to her in a very terrifying way

Twice!

Twice is the greatest/worst babysitter on the team

He’ll give you cuddles, and then suddenly decide you’re gross

Will apologize for hours afterwards though

He confused you

A lot

But your tiny child brain can’t help it

He’s gonna steal you away from Toga after he saw you playing with knives

No child is going to lose their finger on his watch

He’s often in the background when you’re playing with Toga, making sure she doesn’t hurt you too badly

He loves you/hates you at the same time

I mean look at how cute you are

But you’re taking all the attention off of him from Toga

Little attention grabber

Will mistakenly give you booze, but then over react when he remembers booze for babies is wrong

Goes all throughout the league trying to find a cure

Atleast until Dabi trips him and tells him to shut up

Twice will take you to the park at night, or just walk you around

If you can’t sleep he’ll probably waste out all of your energy running around, and then you’ll pass out on the way back home

Saved you from being lit on fire or turned into dust many times

Mr Compress!!!

He’d be a very fun guy to be around, and probably is great at entertaining kids

If you can’t sit still long enough to watch his magic show he’ll absolutely teach you

But you can’t teach with those baby rags on your body

Shopping it is!

Will be like Toga and dress you up in a matching uniform with him

Little assistant

You’ll sometimes eat his marbles and give him a heartattack

What if one carried acid and you just injested it????

You’re one of the few that have seen his actual face

Which you hated

He’ll take you to renaissance fairs and perhaps a rodeo or two

Just for fun

Will teach you to steal

But with flash

He’ll turn Dabi or Shigaraki into a marble if they ever try to hurt you

Problem easily solved

You’ll stay in his room for a while

At least until Dabi learns that you’ve been eating marbles and will casually snatch you up one night

Kurogiri!!!

Father of the year award goes to:

He’s very responsible with you, and raises you like he did with Shigaraki

Gives you an ipad and sits you down on the couch

Lets say, just for some reason, you HATE that ipad

Maybe it’s been touched by stinky Tomura

Or you just hate technology as a child

You would get in the way with everyone else

And despite you being a hero you’re still a child

A child that Kurogiri adores

He’d absolutely carry you around and let you rest on a dark cloud pillow he created

Will NOT let you drink anything in the bar

You’ll cry if he’s not right there with you, so he just gives you some applejuice and a book to read

(He’s raising an introvert)

I’d find it funny if he gave you a wine glass and poured applejuice into it and called it “Wine”

He’d bust out a gut from laughing so hard if you acted like a customer

Stealing some money and slamming it down on the counter

He calls you his little shadow and wraps you up in his mist

When you’re playing hide and seek with Toga and Twice he’ll hide you in his mist and when they both give up you’ll jump out

He gets emotional when you call him dad

He’ll take you on walks at night like Twice, and will treat you to little fast food places(eventhough he despises them)

Shigaraki

Crusty Big Brother

Will shove you around

Acts like a little brat

Teaches you terrible things

“Hey kid go decorate Dabi’s room with this endeavor merch I somehow found lying around”

He treats you like shit, but platonically

The more you’re around him, the more he’ll let you play star dew valley with him

You two will just hang out in his room after a big mission

He’ll play league of legends and you’ll play star dew valley

This man will absolutely murder for you though

He’s like a mean big brother that will kill if someone hurts you

You find his quirk very funny and will laugh if he dusts something

You two are a menace to society

Sometimes when the itch gets too bad he’ll cuddle you

He’ll either cuddle or tease you

depends on his status

He got so proud so quickly when you said he was better than All Might

Bro practically crashed when you somehow made a plushie of him

When Kurogiri is busy he’ll just take you to the mall or even a playground to run around in

The king of terrible fast food places

Finally

The one you simps have been waiting for

Dabi!

This man knows his shit about kids

He might be burning himself and have family issues

But he has the most experience

You’re def infatuated with his quirk

You find it so cool!!!

He’ll find it very flattering and will sometimes show you

But it’ll only last for a few seconds

Will tell you stories about things he’s done

don’t be surprised if they’re lies

This man has a tattoo some where I just know it

And when you find it you’ll use markers to color it in

It’ll look terrible, and he’ll be honest with you about that

Play fights

All the time

He got you a shirt that said “Fuck Endeavor”

He calls you shit stain

While you call him “Dab-Dab”

Will take you arson hunting with him

By that I mean that he’ll take you with him when he lights something on fire

After he found out Mr Compress wasn’t stopping you from eating unknown marbles you were snatched with him

He have a tiny little mattress beside his

He’ll wake you up by throwing his blankets on top of you

Will carry you around the league so you don’t get trampled by villains

If someone ever hurts or talks bad about you at the league

Don’t worry

They don’t exist anymore

He’s a good big brother

Just not very good at not murdering people

Thank you for reading! I am always taking requests so pop one in through the asks.

#REBLOG #rose writes #X Reader #x child!reader #MHA #Dabi #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #Twice mha #mr compress #kurogiri

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jonmyblaze · 10 months

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" children scare the living shit out of me" au(or how fab five kids defended their babysitter Tim)

Jason easily infiltrated Titans Tower pretty easily, He had his old passcode.

Expecting to scare the living shit out of his replacement, so that he would never be Boy Wonder again.It was petty yeah but that was Jason's plan.

He did not expect replacement to have in his hands little girl with black hair in a little Robin outfit and bright green terrifying eyes. Now the replacement just going to die on principal.

One second later

Okay the green-eyed girl threw a fucking energy bolts at him! What the fuck? And he knew he wasn't tripping acid

Because of the multiple scorch marks on the wall!

Jason was on the run, inside the tower.(it was rather big New York paid a lot to keep it up)

he was still in his custom-made Robin outfit that he bought, (with the benefit of pants thank you very much)

Then he found a redhead kid, at first he didn't think much of it as he charged past him.

But then the flying girl with scary green eyes and black hair shouted to get after him.

Why the fuck was that boy with a flaming sword ready to cut him? Why the fuck does he look like Donna Troy?

And he flies too! Did he have a lasso ?

(one ass kicking later)

It took only 3 minutes of running and zigzagging through hallways before he found another kid,

or a blue haired archer girl , her bow drawn at him

Wait He thought she looks familiar

Lian?

(, multiple arrows drawn and fired Plus several boxing glove arrows later (

Shit multiple arrows were on him no where deadly but they were fucking uncomfortable barely penetrating the suit

Oh look is that kid a water bender? Oh fuck that's a water bender!

--+++++----

Jason felt like his head received a swearly. he was still trying to get the water out of it

Then he felt to breezes in the wind

Or more accurately.

Or the two speedsters. That barely looked like they were five..

--------

Timothy Drake was lucky, today was the day that he was babysitting the Titans children, along with friends

Mari, Cerdian, Robbie, Jai, Iray and the eldest lian

He's still wonder who tried to break into the Titans Tower hey it was a perfect test run for the titans of tomorrow

Jason had to drag his bloody body out. God damn it he hated kids. You know what back to the drawing board

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inkmemes · 1 year

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bullet train ( 2022 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the 2022 action movie. trigger warnings for kidnapping, violence, language, & more. alter as you see fit ♡

“you never know what horrible fate your bad luck has saved you from.”

“you put peace out in the world, you get peace back.”

“my bad luck is biblical. i’m not even trying to kill people and someone dies.”

“you said you wanted simple for your first job back. doesn’t get simpler.”

“i know i’m being judgmental. i need to… work on that. but, jesus, what a douche bag.”

“you don’t have to nick the biscuits, man.”

“why’d i do that?

it’s like i got a compulsion or something. i have to take it if i see it. need to talk to someone. serious.”

“you’re bleeding, mate.”

“oh, mate, shit. oh, shit, man. oh, fuck. who the fuck did i kill?”

“fuck is wrong with you?”

“you ever watch thomas the tank engine?”

“i always bring my stickers with me, you know that.”

“[name], you’re startin’ to get on my tits.”

“i want to strangle you now.”

“looks like it’s time for a jaffa cake.”

“three words describe our situation right now. do you know what they are?”

“family’s more important than money, right?”

“if you mention thomas the tank engine one more time, i’m gonna shoot you in the fucking face.”

“i will ruin your life the way you ruined mine.”

“dude, i don’t even know you!”

“let this be a lesson in the toxicity of anger.”

“i’m really good with faces.”

“i’m really gonna have to process my part in the incident on monday.”

“we have to have a hard discussion about the caliber of people we are surrounding ourselves with.”

“i didn’t realize i was gettin’ a babysitter to come cut my bollocks.”

“shove that fuckin’ hat up your fuckin’ arsehole, you hear me?”

“i shoot a lot of people.”

“didn’t i mention? i’ve always been lucky.”

“every day is a fucking headache with you, innit?”

“man, i just want to get off this train, go see a zen garden and some shit, you know?”

“you’re the diesel-est diesel that ever fuckin’ diesel-ed, not even close, that i’ve ever seen in my life, man.”

“no, no, no. i ain’t got the time or the patience, let alone the interest.”

“would you describe me as someone who lives in perpetual anxiety?”

“this guy’s like criss-fuckin’-angel. he pops up everywhere.”

“is this like a… like a sex thing?”

“did you go to the authorities?”

“i wanted to handle it myself.”

“are you hiding in a bathroom?”

“boundaries. we need boundaries.”

“i knew my luck would rub off on you.”

“i’m hedging my bets, you could say.”

“oh, my god, did you just say “whack”?”

“you’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“do you have, um, anything sparkling?”

“bro, i just remembered i gave all my money to that guy to wear my h-hat and glasses.”

“you fucking bastard! fucker!”

“for what it’s worth, you seem like a right fucking arsehole and i’m glad you’re gonna fucking die with me.”

“you two do look like twins, huh?”

“well, i don’t think they were in the market for fucking dildos and pantyhose, were they?”

“you don’t know anything about life.”

“you know, before us now is just a wall, but it’s an illusion, man.”

“i’m finding it very hard to follow this story.”

“i’m really good at reading people, and something tells me you are just not fucking right.”

“i mean, you’re not even afraid and your lip’s quivering. that’s a tear. that is really authentic, mate, like…”

“i gotta kill ya.”

“i’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”

“fuck, that thing is hot.”

“i’m mansplaining, i’m mansplaining again. i’m sorry.”

“you want me to hold your hand?”

“karma is a bitch.”

“it’s my bad luck. it’s bad luck on acid.”

“i could journal. i should journal.”

“i’m sorry, darling.”

“i don’t know who the fuck you are.”

“he just said that i could be a good backup plan and that a pretty girl makes a good hostage.”

“keep your fucking knickers on, all right?”

“what the fuck are you doing, you bell-end?!”

“make sure you do something that brings you peace, ’cause everything else is a pain in the ass.”

“you’re not going to let me get hurt.”

“you’re creepin’ me out, so, if you don’t mind, could you just find another seat, like, way, way, way down there?”

“i’ll fucking kill him myself.”

“you’re not gonna believe this coincidence, but i already got a dose of antivenom in me today, so i’m good.”

“yeah, you, you, you fucking shot me!”

“i’m fast to kick your ass, though, i swear to god.”

“i should’ve put a bullet through your arse!”

“i built myself up from the nothing you gave me.”

“man, i got a bad feeling about this.”

“i’m so sorry for your loss.”

“it was an assassination attempt on me.”

“i will come. i will always come for you.”

“yeah, it helps to process this. i have a good therapist.”

“our paths were destined to return to each other.”

“dude, all you do is talk about trains.”

“i wanted bubble milk tea.”

“i only do snatch and grab jobs.”

“for what it’s worth, [name] is a dick.”

“the narcissism on this chick.”

“what is with this fucked-up family?”

“please don’t make me regret it.”

“did you come to rescue me?”

“did you need rescuing?”

“you came to rescue me.”

“what’s happening to your face?”

“are you crying?”

“it’s a lot to process.”

“do you think maybe there was a little head trauma?”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp starters #sentence meme #sentence starters

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itsclydebitches · 7 months

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BG3 Fic Prompts

I am once again creating a massive document of fics I want to write, to be updated whenever. This is 50% me keeping track of ideas, 25% giving the fandom ideas if they want to steal, and 25% pure entertainment.

“She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety.” Six times Karlach carried a party member and one time the whole group returned the favor. Bonus points if carrying her is pre-insulation upgrade so they have to get creative and/or sacrificial about it.

Similarly, Karlach/Character of Choice in a Pushing Daisies-esque situation, except on steroids. It’s not just that they can’t touch her, they’ll actively burn themselves if they get too close (so no easy kiss-through-Saran-Wrap solutions). They make it work though through the power of love, magic, and a fuck-ton of stubbornness. Ideas can differ greatly depending on who the partner of choice is. Example: Lae’zel toughing it out while Shadowheart curses and sprints to heal her; Astarion leaning into his flirty cad side: “Gale? Summon me a mage hand so I can slap that ass.”

Because the Gale romance bug remains one of my favorite things: angsty fic where he—in true BG3 fashion—misinterprets the most basic, bare-bones decency as love because he’s a) been groomed by a goddess since he was a boy and then abandoned by her in a way that makes him feel completely worthless and b) locked in a tower for a year+ with only his cat for company. Writer’s choice whether this results in Tav rejecting Gale and leaving him with the bittersweet realization that they may not Love him, but they do love him and this helps forward Gale’s recovery. OR

Narrator: Lying awake that night, you think back on your talk with Gale. He looked so handsome in the candlelight, even while devastated by your rejection, and you dwell on how unfortunate it is that you don’t return his romantic feelings.

Hmm…or do you?

Oh dear.

That Githyanki egg is going to hatch if it’s the last thing I do, even if it’s only in fic. Cue the absolute chaos of this found family/polycule parenting. You’d think Lae’zel would be some help in this but no. She’s not. She’s really, really not. (Doctor McCoy voice: “I’m a warrior not a creche tender!”) What do they feed the thing? Who gets to decide their name? How young is too young to start teaching them to wield a dagger? Spoilers: Withers is a surprisingly good babysitter and the only one with a braincell to draw on.

Wyll: I want a baby

Astarion: Give me a week. What color?

Tav, walking in with acid burns and a panicked Lae’Zel: You got green

More Gale angst because I’m trash: Yeah, yeah literally everyone in this party is hella touch-starved but this boy has a year of isolation on top of a kicked puppy personality hidden under that arrogant bravado. Astarion plays his needs off with charm and a supposed obsession with sex, Wyll and Karlach distract with cheer, Shadowheart and Lae’zel stoically power through… and then there’s Gale who’s going to get teary-eyed at the first clasp of his shoulder. Character of Choice gives him a hug one night and he just breaks. Full on sobbing, hyperventilating, holy-shit-this-is-embarrassing-but-now-that-I’ve-started-I-can’t-stop breakdown that’s exactly what he needs. Halsin might be a good choice for this.

Forced Lae’zel / Shadowheart bonding via the specific experience of two abused ex-cult members figuring out what kindness looks like.

Lae’zel: Tchk. I failed our leader in battle and they say only, ‘We’ll try again next time’? If this were a githyanki camp my blood would have dyed their armor red tonight.

Shadowheart: Indeed. The disciples of Lady Shar never would have stood for such indolence. There are no beatings for failing to rise with the sun and no one monitoring our rations. Gale gave me thirds last night!

Lae’zel: Why then do I… prefer this weakness?

Shadowheart: Worse, why do I agree with you?

I want to give my companions presents! Six times Tav gives a party member something they love—a githyanki tablet for Lae’zel, good wine for Wyll, etc.—and one time they give Tav something back. Or, alternatively, one time Tav refrains from giving a gift and the recipient ends up appreciating that even more. Example: not letting Shadowheart get ahold of any Dark Justiciar armor.

Obligatory “Astarion is insecure about not being able to see his reflection and someone helps him with magic/drawing” fic that I may or may not be working on atm.

Equally obligatory The Last Unicorn reference where Asatrion has a rage-driven breakdown, screaming at Tav for not being this selfless hero when he needed them. Everyone ignores the realities that, you know, Tav probably hadn’t even been born yet, because they understand that Astarion just needs to Let It Out. This segues into reassurances that they’ll be there for Astarion in the future. End fic. Sike! Plot twist. The party winds up in the past due to plot shenanigans and are like, “Holy shit. We can rescue Astarion.” Except it turns out they can’t because that would totally fuck with the timeline (idk if that’s actually the case in D&D. I just watch a lot of Doctor Who), but they’re at least able to assist him in some small way/comfort him/give him hope for the next 100+ years. They wind up back in their own time where Astarion suddenly realizes that the absolutely insane, weird-as-balls group he met a century ago and whose kindness he's been leaning his sanity on is his group and there are ~emotions~.

Hurt/Comfort Bloodweave fic where Astarion, as the rogue, does the best job of finding (read: stealing) items for Gale to feed on. He’s really good at it, to the point that when they get together he starts to fear that’s the main reason why Gale is ‘bothering’ to stay with him. After all, what the hells else does he have to offer? Especially now that he’s pulling back from sex as a primary incentive? Someone loving Astarion for who he is? Absurd. Someone needing Astarion’s talents to keep themselves fed? That he understands. That’s familiar. Cue Gale cycling through obliviousness (necessary intervention from another party member?), horror, and finally reassurance.

Wyll teaches the party to dance one night when they’re all bored. Bonus points if Astarion is insulted af because his moves from two centuries ago aren’t cool anymore. Bonus bonus points if Withers turns out to be really good.

Honestly, I feel like we’ve been sleeping on Withers in general. Granted, I haven’t finished the game yet so I’m sure there’s stuff that hasn’t been revealed to me yet, but he’s a skeleton that randomly appears in your camp, makes himself at home, changes reality for you provided you've got the funds, tuts about your love life, and is surprisingly good with kids. There’s so much potential in that.

“I hate this place. I want to go to Build a Bear!” Total crack fic featuring the Faerûn equivalent of Build a Bear: a kindly toymaker with lots of simple stuffed animals that he’ll personalize for you with clothes, accessories, embroidery, etc. Karlach has the time of her life (as does everyone else, even if they won’t admit it).

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 prompts #BG3 fic prompts #Astarion #Gale #Karlach #shadowheart #lae'zel #Wyll #bloodweave

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