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helloprettybb · 3 years

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slip of the tongue

i love bucky with all my heart. that’s it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky doesn’t really like you. but a night alone and a stab wound may change his opinion.

warnings: violence, bad description of action scene, heated kissing??? not smut but implied

word count: 1.9k

Bucky hates you. It isn’t difficult seeing as you’re Stark’s daughter and every quality in the man is tenfold in you. You’re crazy smart and you aren’t afraid to show it. Perhaps your worst attribute is your arrogance since it’s justified most of the time. Bucky hates how you’re always right and the stupid smirk on your face when you outwit or outtalk someone.

He knows you can tell and that’s the worst part. It seems you do everything in your power to irk him even more. Like trying to talk to him every time he enters the room or asking for every excruciating detail for any minor event. You get on his nerves and nothing could change that.

The team left for a mission this morning so it’s just you and Bucky at the Compound. After doing nothing all day, Bucky decides to go for an afternoon run. He doesn’t listen to music, as he enjoys the sounds of the city between the mindless chatter and the speeding cars, it reminds him of his youth.

Towards the end of his run, Bucky starts toward the Compound when his ears pick up a yell. Going towards the noise, he spots three men assaulting a woman. She tries her best to hold them off, but she is greatly outnumbered and outmatched by the three, burly men.

Bucky springs into action and grabs the man whose hands are around the woman’s throat. Yanking him off easily, Bucky shoves the man to the ground with a force that was probably harder than necessary, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he moves his attention to the two other attackers. He grabs the second man, who is slightly shorter than the first and punches him square in the jaw. He releases the woman and stumbles back. The third man lands a few punches on him, but they barely phase Bucky. While fighting off the last man, Bucky doesn’t notice the first guy get up. He also fails to notice the shiny knife in his hand before it’s too late. The man stabs Bucky in the side. Now Bucky’s pissed as he pushes the third man into the wall. He turns toward the man with the knife and knocks him out cold.

He looks around and realizes the woman must have run away. “Good.” he thinks, but only for a minute as he remembers that he got fucking stabbed. He groans as he applies pressure to the wound.

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt. Bucky’s protests stop as he sits down on one of the stools. You pull up a chair and open the kit.

“Y’know this will probably heal by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it can’t heal if you bleed to death.” you retort. While the injury most likely won’t kill him, your point still stands. “Can I?” you motion to his hand. He removes his hand and you quickly pull his sweatshirt up to treat the wound. Luckily it’s a shallow stab wound and the gauze you put on is enough to stop him from bleeding out. As you continue to apply the gauze, you have to force yourself to not get distracted by his defined abs and focus all your attention on the wound. Your fingers trace over his stomach and he jumps slightly.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your hands must be freezing from being down in the lab for so long. Once you finish applying the gauze, you say, “There, all done.” You look up at Bucky and are unable to read his expression. It causes you both to fall into an awkward silence. “So,” you say to clear the air, “How’d this happen?”

“Some guys were attacking this woman. Didn’t know one of them had a knife.” He responds gruffly. You nod in understanding.

You finish patching him up and say, “If you need anything like extra bandages or a beer, just come to me.” Bucky simply nods, unsure what to make of that proposition. He begins to leave awkwardly and almost makes it out of the lab before something in him makes him turn back.

He pops his head in and says, “You said something about beer?”

Bucky doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. He’s on his fourth beer, but he can’t get drunk so it doesn’t really matter. It’s funny because one beer turned into two and then three and now he’s found himself in a full-on conversation with you. And the most surprising part is that it’s delightful.

Behind your arrogance and quick judgments, you’re really funny. He knew you were smart, that wasn’t a surprise, but talking to you more changed his opinion of you.

“So, Buck.” Usually, that nickname didn’t get to him but a healing stab wound and a couple of beers will change anyone’s perception.

“What?” he asks.

“Got any lucky girl?” He scoffs at that and you look shocked. “What? It was simply a question.”

“It wasn’t the question, doll.” Since when did he call you doll? Just a slip of the tongue, he supposes. “It was the fact that I’d even have someone.” he says honestly.

“What do you mean? You’re a good-looking guy, just over one hundred. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. Damn, you’re growing on him.

“I’m serious!” you exclaim. Your left arm is on the couch and your hand is leaning against your hand. He realizes this is the closest you’ve been besides before when you were tending to his stab wound. “You’re a catch, Buck. What stops all the ladies from falling all over you?”

He rolls his eyes at you again whether at your persistence or wording. “I’m a bad guy, doll.” There it is again.

“That’s not true,” you scoff. Taking a sip from your beer, you casually add, “Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that. “Come on, Buck. I’ve liked you for a pretty long time. I thought I made it quite obvious.”

“By annoying the hell outta me?” He jokes.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to you. Although I know I can come across as….”

“Annoying.” he says back. You give him a look that makes him laugh and soon a smile spreads across your face.

“I actually do care about you. But, I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m happy just being friends.” Bucky thinks it over for a moment. Just this morning he was thinking about how you bothered the hell out of him. Actually, the more that he thinks about it, he realizes that he never really hated you. Did Bucky like you all along? He’s about to reply when the elevator doors open.

“Oh, you’re back?” you turn to greet the team.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late with Bucky?” Your dad eyes the two of you suspiciously.

You catch onto what he’s implying and assure him, “We’re just hanging out. In fact, I was just heading to my room. See you tomorrow.” You say a quick goodbye and leave before anyone could say anything.

They all turn to Bucky, ready to attack him with questions. “I’m going to head up, too.” Bucky quickly exits. He catches up to you, although he definitely didn’t mean to. Curse his long legs.

“Oh, hey,” you say as he enters the sleeping quarters.

“Hey,” he says. Fuck it, mind as well try it. “So, about the friend thing.”

You wince, “You don’t want to be friends.” You seem a little hurt by it, “I get it, you don’t really like me. It’s not like I can force you, too. And especially after I basically confessed to liking you as more than a friend, I could see how a potential friendship wouldn’t sound too appealing.” You’ve never looked this uneasy. He’s used to seeing you so confident and assured, but this was new.

Bucky lets you finish rambling before he replies, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little, finally shutting you up. He moves closer, but you stay still. You both can tell what’s about to happen, yet neither is making a motion to stop it.

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You look like you’re trying to play it cool and contain your excitement, but Bucky sees you bite your lip like you’re trying to stop your smile from spreading.

“So…” You start like you’re thinking long and hard about what you’re about to say, “Can I kiss you?” You’re adorable. Bucky takes one last step and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Beyond the taste of beer, Bucky picks up some… he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip… cherry lipgloss. He’ll never get sick of the taste of cherries. He thought it’d be a sweet, innocent kiss but when you grab at his back, trying to hold him as close as possible, he knows it’s anything but. You kiss him hungrily as if your life depends on it and Bucky eagerly accepts. He muffles your moans and gasps and thinks about how nice those sounds will be echoed in his bedroom.

Bucky moves you so that your back is against the wall. You moan as his hands trail down your sides and onto your ass. His hands go under your thighs and you jump so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky catches you and pins you between himself and the wall.

Your hands go up to his hair and play with a few strands before pulling lightly. He groans at that, separating from your lips and throwing his head back. With his neck exposed, you trail kisses up and down his throat. Sucking and biting occasionally and making Bucky go crazy.

Two can play at that game, he thinks. He reconnects your lips to kiss you again and starts grinding his hips into you. Your hands go to his back and start scratching against his shirt.

Before this could go any further, Bucky pulls away and asks, “My room?”

And you smile, “Fuck yeah.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines

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supercorpkid · 3 years

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Two Luthors are better than one.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Lillian Luthor x Granddaughter!Reader

Word count: 3100.

If you haven’t you can check out It’s you against the world first, if you would like a little bit more of context.

You wake up feeling almost too rested to be true. You get out from under your blankets, and you expect to see blood and dirt everywhere, instead you’re cleaned. You look at your clothes and you’re wearing your favorite pajamas and they smell like home. Home.

It feels like you haven’t stepped foot home in a lifetime. So much has happened. So much pain and sorrow have taken over you and your family. You sit back on your bed, looking around. Can you even call this home if Lena is not in it?

You have slept too long. You don’t know how many hours you’ve slept, but that doesn’t matter. Five minutes would’ve been too long.

A small part of you believes Kara. Sure, it wasn’t all your fault. How could’ve been, right? How could you have been everywhere at the same time? How could you have gone for Lena when Kara’s location was right there? Still. Still-

You feel like an exposed wound waiting for something – no, not something, Lena – to care for it. To patch it up with an assertive and unquestioning ‘this isn’t your fault’.

“Momma.” You call and it doesn’t take long for you to see Kara’s face poking at your door. “How am I clean?”

“Oh.” Kara gives you a soft smile, walking in your bedroom. “You passed out from exhaustion before we got home. So, I had to give you a shower, and food while you were sleeping.”

“What?” You furrow your brows, confused. “I can eat while I sleep?”

“Apparently.” Kara agrees with her head and touches your face with a big smile. “It’s good to see your pretty face again. You were looking really, what’s the word? Dead.”

“I think I was dead for a minute before you saved me.” You exhale, finally realizing you are glad to be alive. “Thank you.”

You throw yourself in her arms and Kara catches you, giving you a little kiss on the head, then puts her cheek on top of your head, while stroking your back lightly.

“My baby.” Kara’s voice is so full of love, she doesn’t have to say anything else for you to understand what she means.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” You sigh, feeling there’s no more anger left on your body. You’re done fighting the world completely. “I was so full of rage I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Oh, my love.” Kara cups your face, making you look at her and her blue eyes meet yours. “When will you understand that you are my heart beating out of my chest? If you’re mad, I’m mad too. If you die, I will die too.”

“Momma, I love you so much, but I-I miss her. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t get her memories back and she doesn’t-” You stop yourself, when a tear slides down your cheek.

“Then you can’t do it.” Kara says, and you furrow your brows in question. “And someone else will try. And if they can’t do it, we will live with this.”

“How?” Your voice comes out small. Kara forces a smile out.

“I don’t know, kid. But we will.” She kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes at the familiar comfort that brings. “What you can’t do is bleed yourself dry for this.”

“But it 's mom.”

“But it’s you.” Kara’s forehead rests against yours. You cry, and she cries too. Both of your hearts are beating so painfully slow. “And I can lose the entire universe, except you, my heart. And I can tell you with absolute certainty your mom feels the same way.”

“Not anymore.” You whisper and Kara’s forehead stop touching yours, as she brings you back into her arms in a comforting hug.

“We can always ask for help.”

You think about it for a second. You think about how much you wanted Kara’s help in battle. How much you needed her fighting with you side by side, because two Kryptonians are better than one. If that is true, then two Luthors must be better than one. Your Luthor is, um, unavailable. So-

No. You could never.

No. She would never.

Right?

You snap your head up, looking at Kara. She looks back at you, knowing that look on your face. The look of an idea.

“Yes?” She asks, unsettled. You super speed through your morning routine, and Kara snaps her eyes wide open at you, waiting for a response.

“I think I’ve got it.” You run out of your bedroom but come back a split second later. You kiss Kara’s cheek with a smile. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I-I love you too.” Kara says, still surprised by your sudden change of attitude, and you leave again. This time for good.

“I have to say I’m amazed to see you, granddaughter.” Lillian says when you land in front of her. She tilts her head, and you almost salute her off. But you don’t have time for that.

“I have important pressing matters to discuss with you.” Your answer also seems to amaze her, as she raises her eyebrows at the sound of that.

“Do tell.” Lillian looks as interested as you thought she would. You never deny her your company when she appears in front of you. Once in every other month. But this is certainly out of character, so she looks curious. You look around, to be sure no one can hear you before you start.

“Some shapeshifters kidnapped Lena. They’ve mind-wiped her and hurt her, and now-now she doesn’t remember-” You think about it for a second. If Lillian’s going to help you, she needs to know exactly what Lena doesn’t remember. But what if Lena not remembering you and Kara is exactly what she always wanted? “Me.”

“Aliens.” She scoffs in disgust, almost forgetting you too are an alien, or half of one for that matter. “Let me guess. Supergirl imprisoned them in a cell and will try to turn them good eventually?”

“Well, not exactly.” You look down. Face burning at the thought of the words you’re about to say. At the truth that is about to be confined to Lillian freaking Luthor. “I-I killed them.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t have said that faster. Or have a more surprised look on her face. But slowly she comes down from her shock.

“I’ve been working on reversing their technology, but, well, I’m not much of a scientist as much as I am an inventor of sorts.” You say, receiving an agreeable nod from her.

“So what exactly is your pressing matter with me, dear?” Lillian asks. She knows what you want. It’s pretty obvious. And it’s also pretty obvious she wants you to ask for it.

“I could use some help.” You wait a beat. “Your help.”

Lillian’s nod is so tiny, if you weren’t staring at her with your undivided attention, you would’ve missed it.

“Do you still have your lab at L Corp?” She asks and you shake your head, agreeing. “What are we waiting for?”

It’s all she has to say for you to fly to L Corp with her. You look at Lena’s office to be sure she is there, before walking into the building.

“Oh, Mrs-Mrs. Luthor.” Aly shuffles in her chair uncomfortable, and you listen to her heart beating terrified and almost out of her chest.

“Hey Aly, Lillian and I have some, um, stuff to work on in my lab. You know the drill. Don’t let anyone interrupt us.” You ask and she agrees with her head, eagerly.

“Should I tell your mom-”

“No!” You stop her, before she’s half finished. “Please don’t disturb my mom. It’s all good here. Ok?”

“Of course, Miss Luthor-Danvers.” She agrees and you make a mental note to tell your mom, when all of this is over, to give Aly a raise. You thank her and make your way to your lab, with Lillian right behind you.

When you open the door, you startle yourself by the look of the place. You don’t remember the lab looking this wrecked ever before. There are cans of red bulls everywhere. Broken parts, and oh yeah, you punched a hole in your working table. Also, the amount of blood here is absurd.

“I see you’ve been working through mental breakdowns-” She pushes one can with her feet, almost too gracefully for the action itself. “Sleepless nights and-” She stares at some blood stains on the floor. “Wherever that blood came from.”

“Me. Mainly.” You point out, not entirely embarrassed by the truth of what she’s saying. You pick up your chair on the floor and point to the main computer. “You can start looking at the alien tech while I try to clean up the place a little.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Working with Lillian is not like working with Lena. It’s methodic, barely satisfactory, and it doesn’t leave space for any chat or contribution. You don’t care. You’re not looking for fun, but for results and as long as she gives you that, you don’t mind the deafening silence.

“How did it feel?” Lillian asks, after maybe two hours of uninterrupted silence. You raise your head from the new metal halo you’re making. “To kill them?”

“I don’t know.” You answer, truthfully. “I was dying with them.”

“Of course you were.” Lillian says like that’s the answer she was expecting to hear. Like hearing you had killed someone made no sense, and now with this little piece of information it all makes sense again.

After what it feels like another two hours, Lillian looks back at you with a nod. “Ready for testing.”

“Okay.” You pick the halo you made and transfer the new coding system she created to it. “I’ll make myself forget something with the mind wiper I invented and then try to bring that memory back.” You explain, but it feels stupid. It is self-evident the entire experience. “I guess I’ll forget my uncle’s name and you can remind me if it doesn’t work.” She agrees with her head. “Bye Lex.” You use your memory wiper, forgetting whatever his name is. Then you grab the halo, placing it over your head. “Ok. I’m ready.” Lillian presses a few things on the computer and nods at you when it’s over. “My uncle’s name is-”

Nothing.

“It didn’t work.” You sigh. Exhausted. “I don’t know his name.”

“I think I see the problem.” Lillian resumes working on the computer, and you wait.

“What is it?” You ask after a while, because not remembering is bothering you. “His name, I mean. What’s his name?”

Lillian turns her head back at you, to look at you from the corner of her eyes. “I don’t think not knowing will harm you more than doing so. You’re better off without this information.”

Ok, then.

“Done.” Lillian says and you do the entire process again. You sit on your chair, after erasing someone else’s name from your mind, and you sigh before putting the halo on.

“I hope this works.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “I miss her.”

Her eyes are filled with something that can only be described as pity when she looks at you again. Lillian blinks at you, trying to ignore your feelings. You swallow them down too. You put the halo over your head and give her a thumbs up. She turns to the computer again.

“Miss Finnick.” You say absolutely certain this time. A smile comes up your lips and, like it hasn’t been beating for all this time, your heart races on your chest, beating into your ribcage. Thank Rao. And Lillian, you guess. “It worked.”

“Luthors are geniuses, after all.” Lillian agrees with her head, and that’s all. She walks to the lab door, and you furrow your brows. “I think you can take it from here.”

“You’re not going to stay? You can tell her you did it all yourself and-”

“There’s no point.” Lillian stops you. “I won’t get any form of appreciation. And I don’t think she would trust something I made.”

“Well, she doesn’t remember me. She might not trust something I made too.” You say and Lillian gives you the closest thing to a full smile you’ve ever seen on her lips.

“Darling, look at your face. Lena might be distrustful of people, but no one is immune to your charm.” Lillian tilts her head, clearly saying this conversation is over. “Granddaughter.”

“Grandmother.” You salute her off, and Lillian opens the door of your lab. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer. You nearly repeat yourself, but she closes the door. She heard you. You’re sure.

Less than a minute after you called her, Kara is knocking on your lab door. You let her in with a smile, and call Aly asking her to send Lena to your lab without mentioning your name. Every second before Lena arrives is filled with anticipation and Kara has to hold you, so you don’t fly away, unable to hold yourself down.

“Listen, baby.” Kara whispers softly. “I’m sure it will work perfectly, but if it doesn’t-”

“Then we’ll figure out how to live with this.” You look up to her and she smiles at you.

“We will.” She repeats.

You hear the click on the door, when the L Corp id is accepted. You hear when the door unlocks. You watch the handle slowly opening. And what it feels like a lifetime later, you watch Lena coming in. You wait a beat for the expression on her face to reveal something. Anything. Love, hate, care, unfamiliarity. You would take anything. But Lena’s expression is unreadable.

“I’ve been wondering when I would see you again.” Lena says, directed at you. She apparently saw Kara after. “I suppose I have some thanking to do.”

That’s all. The silence lingers for another entire minute. Was that a thank you?

“But now, I’m dazed as to why and how you’re here in one of my labs.”

“It’s my lab.” You answer, taking your id card from your pocket and showing it to her.

“I suppose you’re right.” Lena agrees with her head. She takes something out of her pocket too. Looks at it for a few seconds, before showing it to you. “It’s you.”

It’s a picture of the three of you together. Old enough, but still not so old you would be unrecognizable. You were probably ten or eleven, and your faces are all smushed together, and all your smiles are so large you wish you would remember what made you guys so happy.

“How is this possible?” Lena asks, and you finally see it. Your mom, behind the façade of the strong professional CEO peeking out. And she is scared. She walks a little bit closer to you. “Was it-” She points at the large scar on the side of her head.

“No.” You say, and Kara pats your back encouraging you to say more. You breathe deep trying to calm yourself. “Alien tech, actually. I can explain it to you now, or…” You go to your table and grab the halo. “After we bring your memories back.”

“Oh.” Lena furrows her brows. She looks at the picture one more time, almost as confirmation. Like the picture is telling her that she can trust you. She goes to where you’re standing and sits on the chair you’re pointing to. You put the halo on her head and move to your computer.

“It’s Kara, right?” Lena asks and you stop looking at the computer, to look behind you. Lena is looking at your momma, who’s staring at her from across the room. Kara agrees with her head vividly. “Can you, please, stop looking at me like that? It’s, um, distracting.”

Oh great, she doesn’t even know who Kara is and already wants to sleep with her. Yes. That sounds like your mother alright.

“Sorry.” Kara’s face blushes completely. “I haven’t seen you in a long while.”

“Four days hardly feels like too long.” Lena says, and you smirk at her.

“Yeah, you clearly don’t remember anything.” You look back at your computer. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Lena says and you agree, doing exactly what Lillian has done. Lena is zoomed out for a few minutes, and you and Kara just look at her, patiently waiting to see if it worked.

You only know it worked when Lena looks at you, eyes full of tears, and she throws her arms around you so hard, even you with your super strength can feel it.

“I missed you so much.” You say, crying silent but happy tears, and you feel Kara’s arms around both of you. Lena kisses your forehead so many times, it feels like she's trying to make up for the past few days when she wasn’t around to do so. She only stops to kiss Kara’s mouth, also repeatedly for a few times, and you smile, between your tears.

“You saved me, babygirl. You saved me.” Lena says so softly, your heart swells on your chest.

“Not before they wiped your memories, though.”

It comes. As natural as the daylight. The patch, the care, the healing. Everything you were expecting, it comes.

“That was not your fault!” Lena says, assertively. And if you weren’t crying already, you would’ve started now. “Hey, baby-” Lena holds your face in her hands and smiles at you, so fondly there’s no way she doesn’t remember everything about you. “You did the impossible. You saved me, cared for me, and now you brought my memories back.”

“With Lillian’s help.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t take away everything you have done.” Lena wipes your tears and holds Kara’s hand lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“She almost died to save us.” Kara adds, so Lena understands all you have done.

“You have to stop almost dying.” She begs, between tears, and you smile.

“Well, like Bukowski once said, ‘you have to die a few times before you can really live’.” You smile at her.

“He didn’t mean literally!”

“Rao, you two are such nerds I feel bad about getting in the hug and lowering the IQ of the hug.” Kara says and Lena chuckles, pulling her closer and kissing her dearly. “We’re fine.”

“We are fine.” Lena agrees.

You breathe in their words. You let them go inside of your body and let them fill you, head to toes. You’re fine. You’re fine. You hug Lena, smelling her familiar scent and you smile. You are fine.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #lillian luthor #superkid #reader insert

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

They were fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia casually leans on the desk next to Brainy, who is currently hunched over some screen.

“It appears so,” He answers, not really paying attention. In the distance you can hear yelling and the tell-tale woosh of a cape.

Nia had removed her comms the moment Supergirl spotted Lena Luthor on the field. She’s pretty sure half of the agents did the same. They all knew what was coming.

And well, if the approaching bickering were any indication...

“I had it covered!”

“Yes, because an on-coming missile with your name on it was you having it covered, clearly.”

“I saved ten lives today, Supergirl. Jealous you only saved three?”

“It isn’t about that and you know it.”

Nia sees Alex stride in, obviously going in for an attempt to pacify Supergirl.

And also because it was partly Alex’s idea to send Lena with the Alpha team, in her defense Lena was the only person she could trust enough not to tamper with the device.

“Come on, Supergirl, Lena is more than capable in the field and she volunteered. She saved the day, you kno—”

“Butt out of this, Alex.” Supergirl grits out, too busy staring Lena down to even spare her sister a glance.

“Sorry?” Alex scoffs, shocked at how easy she was brushed aside. She was tempted to pull rank and use the ‘I’m the Director, here.’ card, if she was being honest.

“No, Alex is right,” Lena points out, “I did save the day. Time for you to acknowledge that the both of us are just as capable as the other. And if saving the day means getting in the line of fire, then so be it.”

“This isn’t about you being incapable-”

“Then tell me what exactly is it about?”

Supergirl licks her lips, swallows and Lena braces herself for another retort but instead she fixes her with a stare that only Supergirl reserves for the bad guys and coolly states, “You are not to go out in the field and that’s final.”

She turns to walk out but Lena’s temper just skyrocketed tenfold.

“Wow. You did not just say that to my face.” There was something in the way that Lena Luthor’s voice dropped that made Supergirl turn around. DEO agents are openly watching on now, not even bothering at subtlety anymore. The two women fighting in front of the whole agency certainly haven’t tried subtle at all.

“Let’s make something clear here, Supergirl,” Lena fumed, “This is my life and I get to call the shots. You don’t get a say in what I decide to do or not to do. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t have a say? Rao, sorry my mistake! Forgive me for thinking that my sharing a last name with you means a cent to you as much as it does to me. You’re right, who the hell am I anyway? Sorry for wanting to keep you alive.”

Supergirl is breathing heavily two inches away from Lena’s face. Heat and anger rolling off the both of them in waves. They’re in a world of their own now. A world in which Lena is having trouble deciding on whether she should scream some more or pull Supergirl’s lips into her own.

“Im sorry- Last name?”

The voice wakes them to reality. A reality that makes both of them sober up and realize they’re in the middle of a very exposed DEO headquarters; makes them aware of the collective gasp that has just happened.

Supergirl backs away.

“Please, fucking tell me that I heard you wrong. Or I swear to God-”

Alex heads straight for Supergirl and Lena quickly realizes the implications of what Supergirl had just said. She essentially confirmed to the entire place that they’re—

“Alex, I can—”

“Yes or no, are you or are you not married?”

So, this is how Alex Danvers makes criminals confess. Lena had never seen Supergirl cower before, but by the looks of it, if Lena had been the one in the hero’s boots she’d also be shaking.

“Yes.”

Oh, no.

“Alex, listen,” Lena starts and Supergirl looks at her—no, not Supergirl, Kara—Kara looks at her and Lena sends her a reassuring gaze that screams, ‘I’m with you.’

In that instant it must’ve looked like a switch had been flipped. From Lena attacking Kara to Lena defending Kara in a split second.

“Listen, we were going to tell you. It isn’t like what you think—“

“Oh, no no,” Alex quickly dismisses Lena, “I’m not going to listen to you. This is between me and you,” Alex hissed not even looking at her, directly glaring at Supergirl instead.

“Alex, just—” Lena tries but she does the mistake of moving her shoulder in an attempt to put an arm on Alex and she cuts off with a, “Fuck.”

The Danvers sisters look up at her yelp of pain, concern flickering through their faces. Supergirl swiftly speeding to her side, and the shoulder wound she was so trying so hard to keep Kara from seeing, is now out in the open, bleeding profusely.

“You’re hurt.”

“Fuck,” Lena says again as she tries to take in a breath, pain shooting down her entire right side.

“Take her to the Med Bay,” Alex orders, eyes briefly tracing Lena’s shoulder before turning to Supergirl again, “If you think this discussion is over, you’re sorely mistaken. You and I have a lot to talk about. And I fucking mean it.”

Lena watches as Supergirl swallows in fear at the sight of the DEO director walking out.

“Everybody, back to work! Show’s over, morons!”

As if somebody had hit the play button, a buzz resumes almost exaggeratedly; DEO agents immediately flailing to get back to work, embarrassed at being called out so blatantly.

Lena tunes back in to Kara, “C’mon, hold on to me,” she mumbles, quickly bending down to put an arm around Lena’s knees and pulls her to a bridal carry.

She doesn’t point out that it’s her shoulder that was injured, not her legs; doesn’t point out that she can walk absolutely fine. Lena can clearly see how Supergirl needs to be as close to her as possible right now.

So, she clings tightly and presses harder back against her chest.

***

Lena’s mind is running a mile a minute right now, she needs to know what’s going in her wife’s mind and she needs a plan on how the both of them are going to do damage control.

Kara lays her down softly on a Med bed and without a word Lena strips herself off.

Both of them silent as Kara gets supplies on a nearby table. She sits behind Lena and cleans the wound wordlessly. She’s patched Nia up in secret, way too many times, to know how many stitches Lena needs.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Are the first words that Kara utters.

“Good. I’m still mad at you too.”

She hears Kara sigh and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Kara’s face is scrunched up in a pout and a crinkle.

“But...that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you against Alex.”

“I don’t need protection from Alex.”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine she scared me a bit.”

Before Lena can reply she hisses in pain and Kara brings her lips near the wound and “Sorry,” she whispers.

“We have to talk about this don’t we?” Kara sighs out, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes, darling, we do.”

“We also have to reach a compromise about this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Kara, yeah we do.”

Lena hears another sigh and she can guess what Kara would say next.

“Just so you know, I hate this. I hate this very much. If I could have my way, we’re not having this discussion and you’re staying put and staying safe and not running off to danger. Hell if I can have it my way you won’t even be stepping inside the DEO. But...I can’t have my way can’t I?”

“No, darling, I’m sorry.”

Kara sounds so helpless and Lena just wants to make all the complications in their relationship go away. But that’s not how real life relationships work. Relationships are hard and messy and work. God, they are so much work, but being with Kara is worth all the work in the world. They’ve come a long, long way for this.

If this had happened two years ago, the both of them would not even think about compromise. Kara would just push through with what she believes is the best way to keep Lena safe and would have insisted on keeping Lena locked in a safe house somewhere. And she guesses past Lena wouldn’t even consider the merits of communication with Kara, either.

“I just want you safe.”

“I know.”

“Never want to see you hurt.”

“I know, baby. But Kara you can’t always keep me safe, do you understand that?” Lena says carefully, she wishes she could turn around right now and cup Kara’s face.

“I know it’s hard for you, but this is what the both of us signed up for. Do you think I’m happy whenever you fly off to God knows where, when I see getting shot at in the news, when you leave in the middle of the night? I’m just as scared as you are, Kara.”

But that’s the price the both of them have to pay for falling in love when one is a super hero and the other is a world saving genius.

Kara bandages her neatly and Lena turns around to face her, moving a bit up in the bed and pulls gently at Kara’s wrist to join her.

“I know,” Kara breathes into Lena’s hair as she positions herself, “I’m sorry. For fighting, for yelling, for...accidentally telling everyone that we’re married.”

Lena tries not to laugh at how Kara pouts at the last one.

“Forgiven already. I’m sorry too.”

“I love you, you know that?”

She feels more that hears as she fits herself underneath Kara’s chin, tucked tight beside her.

“I love you too, so, so much. So much that I agreed to a secret wedding,” Lena tells her, “And as much as I would love to continue our little heart to heart, I really think you should go to your sister now.”

“Nooo, Lena noo,” Kara groans out, “Come on, we can just stay here and cuddle and I can kiss your shoulder better and maybe you can give me a kiss too and I don’t have to talk to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Have I mentioned I also hate when you’re right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mmph. Fine. But half an hour of cuddles first and then I go talk to Alex, deal?”

“Deal.”

Lena agrees, greedy for Kara’s warmth and also thinking that Alex certainly needs more than half an hour to cool off. Kara certainly needs more than that to think about the words she’s going to tell her sister. She’ll probably die by the end of their conversation but at least she died knowing that the whole world knows Lena Luthor is her wife, right?

***

“Alex, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I’m livid, Kara. Livid.”

Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to Alex in an empty DEO training room where her sister could easily turn on red sunlamps and deck her for keeping things secret.

“What, did it not occur to that, oh I don’t know? ‘Oh I’m having a wedding maybe I should text my sister an update? Leave her a note maybe? Dear Alex I’m getting married today!’” Alex roars and Kara flinches. Rao how could she be this stupid?

“Anything would have been fucking nice, than to hear about it in the middle of a heated fight. Tell me, if you didn’t slip up just now were you even going to tell me?” Alex tries to coat the words in anger but she doesn’t miss the way it wavers on fear and insecurity.

“Rao, yes of course I was going to Alex! I- we-” Kara tries.

“Save it.”

“Alex please,” She begs her to listen as she steps in front of her and reaches to hold Alex’s hands.

“When?” Alex snarls and Kara gulps because her sister definitely would not like the answer.

“Remember that time that Lena and I broke up? Then we ran to each other in the rain, made up? And then two weeks later she got assassinated by those CADMUS wanna-be’s and we had to use the Fortress’s tech to track her down?”

Alex remembers that one so clearly. It was funny at the time, how Jess had caught them making out in the middle of an ‘interview’. How Kara was so happy that she won Lena back.

“Yes and?” Alex quips, eager to know the answer.

“And well, remember how I asked to have some time alone with Lena once we rescued her? And made all of you guys leave?” Kara croaks out, fear apparent and Alex just stares at her clearly impatient at how Kara rambles.

“Well, I uh-kinda suggested we get married on the spot because I didn’t want to spend another day not being married to her when people want to kill both of us, every day.”

Alex lets out a heavy, shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“You know this is the part where I say, ‘Not even surprised.’” She states dryly, “Of fucking course you’re the kind of people who would pull this kind of shit.”

Kara tries to get a word in but, “You fucking owe me a wedding and Mom and J’onn and Alura-”

“Oh my god! Kara! Your Mom deserves to see the daughter she whisked off to another planet, get married! You fucking owe Clark a wedding-”

“Actually…” Kara starts off sheepishly, knowing full well Alex will explode from what she’s about to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Clark knows doesn’t he?!”

Kara flinches again. Good thing her superhearing is dampened here.

“Well, uh,” Kara wrings her fingers when she realizes there are no glasses to fiddle with.

“Lena said she wanted a Kryptonian wedding so we had Kelex call Kal and uhm he officiated…”

Alex doesn’t say anything to that, just clenches and unclenches fists at her side.

“I’m sorry!! Okay! I was going to tell you immediately but we kinda got carried away sneaking around and then it just completely slipped my mind because you guys keep pointing out how we’re an old married couple anyway! And and and—“ Kara is grasping for words, anything just to make this all better.

“Damn it, I messed up haven’t I?” She whispers, realizing now that the only thing to make this better would be them admitting their mistake and going for amends.

“Yeah, you did, Kara.”

Kara feels shame course through her.

“I am so mad at you right now for denying me the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle. You know I don’t even want that, I just wanted to see you have your dreams come true and see you have what I have with Kelly, god damn it Kara, I love you and I wanted to be there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate your pout. I hate your stupid pouty face. Your billionaire wife better pay for a grand wedding for all of us.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Mom’s not going to let you down easy though.”

Her sister doesn’t really need to point out the obvious.

“I know. Could you maybe be the-”

“Nuh-uh. No. You tell her yourself or have Lena tell her. I’m not doing that shit for you.”

“Fine.”

Kara will take what she can get.

“I love you, Alex.” She breathes in relief when she sees Alex affectionately roll her eyes at her.

“I love you too, you stupid alien.”

***

“It’s official then? We guys get to call you Moms now?”

Lena never really expected that to be the first words Nia says to her when she enters the Med Bay.

“Yes, Nia. And also, yes, you’re a bridesmaid,” She answers immediately knowing that Nia was going to ask.

Nia lights up and Lena shakes her head at how similar she and Kara beams.

Yeah, ‘Moms’ really is a fitting term.

“Alex making you do another wedding huh?”

“Yes, she is.”

Nia snorts, “You say that as if you don’t want the world to know Kara Danvers is wholly and solely yours.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, not that Lena is ever going to admit that though.

“Can I please plan your wedding? I have prophetic dreams. I can totally tell you what would look perfect on that day oh, oh, oh! I can even tell you if it’s going to rain, if you want an outdoor wedding that is. Oooh, maybe I could even see who’d catch your bouquet— “

“Nia, slow down,” Lena mutters before Nia plans out the whole wedding then and there.

“Kara and I will talk about it, but I think she’ll agree, you don’t really need to convince us.”

“Yes-yeah uh right sorry, you should definitely do that. Sorry it’s just I’ve been shipping you and oh my this is so exciting!”

Trust Nia to say ship is now endgame in regards to their marriage.

Nia jabbers on as Kara walks in and gives the both of them a big grin, Alex trailing behind her.

“I guess, congratulations are in order, Danvers.” Alex rolls her eyes and it takes Lena a moment to realize that she was referring to her.

She tries to calm down the happy flutter in her heart and the emotions bubbling out of her as she utters a weak, “Th-thank you, Alex.”

“Actually, Luthor-Danvers, we hyphenated,” Kara clarifies, which really doesn’t help the happy flutter at all, just adds to it.

Alex just sighs and mumbles an ‘Of course you did.’

Before walking towards the bed and surprising Lena with a tight embrace.

“You do know, now you have two Danvers worrying for you every time you walk out in the field now, right?”

And Lena just laughs. Because for the first time in forever she’s got people genuinely wanting her to exist. To the point that they’d do anything to keep her safe.

She’s got family now and if it means overprotective Kryptonians and fierce blaster wielding older sisters, she really wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

They’re fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia doesn’t really know why she keeps asking, this is like a daily occurrence now. Agents don’t even bat an eye when bickering echoes off the halls, nowadays. Apparently, this is what happens in the CatCo bullpen and L-Corp offices too.

Alex appears next to her.

“You know you really should stop calling them that, especially since—“

“WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR KID, POTSTICKERS!”

#the idea of them secretly getting married is just so funny to me #and kara accidentally telling everyone is even funnier #i guess to those people asking for a follow up to the magazine story uh this is it guys...#they get married in secret and then they get married again and they bicker a lot but they love each other a lot too #hope u guys liked that #happy valentines!#supercorp endgame!#the reckless writer writes #a supercorp fic #of sorts #rcklss writes

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Fated To You

Pairing | Kitsune!Yuta x Human, gn!Reader

Warning(s) | depictions of violence, minor character death, supernatural character, blood, mentions of stabbing, mentions of murder

Synopsis | You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you found the injured fox hiding away in the forest. However, after accepting the fox pup into your life as a new member of your home, you quickly realized that there was more to him than just an adorable fox with an odd number of tails.

Genre: supernatural au, fluff, angst, soulmates au

Author's Notes | I have had quite a longing to write a supernatural character, and, while my favorite supernatural creatures are werewolves (they're majestic amazing creatures, shush), I wanted to do something a little different, thus, Kitsune Yuta was born! This has also been posted on NCTA under the name Tori, so if you see it there, it's me. I really hope you enjoy this piece!

Word Count | 6.5k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil

The moon began to rise over the land, casting grotesque shadows over the forest as your feet moved carefully over roots that protruded from the mossy earth. Your hands held strong to the green flashlight clasped tightly in your fingers, lighting the way through the darkened trees as the sun continued to fade.

It had never been your intention to stay out this late. Fresh air. That’s all you had needed. Air to clear your head and calm you down from the near panic attack you’d thrust yourself into as you thought about all the papers and assignments you’d have to complete within the next few weeks.

It was a lot; juggling a full-time job and part-time university. You’d known it was going to be when you’d decided to finally finish your degree. What you hadn’t anticipated was everything piling up at the end, making you truly stretch yourself to get everything done correctly and on time without losing your job and crumbling under the impending weight of unemployment.

Luckily for you, behind your rented out house, was a forest. You weren’t exactly sure how far it stretched, nor had you ever explored it before, but you had a certain affinity for nature. When you began to lose yourself, you slammed your book shut and got up with a huff, grabbing your unused backpack out of the closet and setting out into the woods, hoping immersing yourself in nature would calm you down.

It had. Walking about, listening to the birds sing and the trees grow had soothed your mind and allowed you to relax for the first time in several weeks. You’d gotten so relaxed that, as you sat against a sturdy oak for water and a snack, you found yourself drifting off.

It was only recently that you had awoken. Your eyes blinked open as the sounds changed and the peaceful chirping birds were replaced with the soft, yet creepy, hoots of owls and the howls of wolves.

You’d never meant to be out there that long, but as you pulled yourself off the ground, you were thankful you were smart enough to have a packed back full of extra water, a few snacks, a rope just in case, a compass, a hunting knife, and a flashlight along with batteries.

As the sun descended, you pulled the flashlight from your backpack and here you were, wandering the woods at dusk, navigating your way back to your house in a forest you’d never been in before.

Perhaps it was the start of a disaster. Or perhaps it was keeping you away from your books for just a little longer.

Whatever the reason, you tried not to panic as you made your way through the woods in a direction you assumed was home but honestly, you were too sure.

You scanned your beaming light over varying trees, looking for the mark you’d left on a particularly girthy oak, a mark that would signal your correct direction and your soon entrance into the backyard of your home.

As your light hit along the trees, searching high and low, it caught the glow of a pair of glassy eyes not three feet from where you stood. With a shriek, you jumped back, stumbling over a tree root and falling back onto your bum, letting out a whine at the pain.

You shined your light back on the spot you’d saw the eyes and found them again, wide, yellow eyes staring back at you in, what you could only assume was fear. Fear that pulled at your heartstrings, because this wasn’t any regular fear of humans. This was absolute terror.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up onto your knees, dusting the dirt off of the bottom of your jeans as you carefully inched forward, careful not to spook the animal which you assumed to be a mistreated cat or an abused dog.

The animal didn’t move, seeming to be frozen in place as you moved closer. It was only when you managed to shift the bush it was hiding in that you realized what it actually was.

A fox. A small, dull orange fox that still resembled a pup. It had greying pointed ears and a dirt covered orange coat. As your eyes trailed over the body of the fox, they landed on the tail, or shall you say, tails! By your count, nine, although you knew that couldn’t be right! It’s tail was likely matted in nine big places! You pushed the question of tails out of your mind and roved over its body, finding surprisingly small paws and a muzzle covered in a crusty red which you quickly realized was blood. That fact alone should have sent you running, but as your eyes scanned it’s body, you quickly realized the source. An opened gash on the foxes side, just above it’s hip, steadily weeped a bright red liquid that would claim the fox’s life if kept untreated.

Your heart broke for the poor animal and you knew you couldn’t simply leave it to die. Carefully, you offered your hand for the fox to sniff and, as soon as he did, he seemed to trust you a little more.

You’d taken several animal science classes while pursuing your degree, and you knew the technical way animals seemed to trust a human just by sniffing them, but you always found yourself fascinated by the way an animal could get to know someone simply by sniffing their palm.

“I can’t leave you out here. You’ll die from your wounds if I do. Would it be alright if you come home with me?” you asked softly.

Part of you felt silly for speaking to a fox that couldn’t understand you, but as the fox nodded to your question, you felt relieved-

Wait… nodded?!

You stared wide eyed as the fox, who apparently could understand you, slowly crept from under the bush, small whimpers leaving it’s throat as it moved its hind legs. It no doubt hurt, especially with the placement of the wound.

“I doubt any animal hospital would be open right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, but the fox froze in place, fear once again in its eyes.

“You don’t want to go to the animal hospital, do you?” you asked.

The fox shook his head-- you were really going to have to get used to that.

Sighing to yourself, you reached a hand out to gently stroke the orange fur, something the fox stiffened at before all together relaxing in your touch.

That was all it took for you to know you couldn’t let anything happen to this gentle fox.

“Can I pick you up?” you asked. “It may help get you back home with minimal bleeding.”

The fox seemed to pause, as if pondering and you were beginning to odd just how strange this fox truly was. Not like any other wild animal you’d ever happened upon, which, in turn, led you to believe that this was not just another wild animal.

The fox moved closer to you and touched its nose lightly to your hand. You took this as the ‘go-ahead’ and, very gently, you lifted to fox pup up into your arms.

It whimpered slightly, but as you pressed it’s wounded side purposely against your torso to still the bleeding, it relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t know how you were going to get him home. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where home was, but as you shined your flashlight carefully clenched between your teeth, your eyes landed on the jagged ‘X’ you’d etched into the pine.

With a breath of hope, you moved toward the mark and within a few paces, you were standing in the yard of your house.

Carrying the fox through the yard was made easier by the darkness. You flicked off your flashlight, relying on memory so as not to draw your neighbor’s attention to yourself or the orange mass in your arms. When you finally made it to the front door, you opened the latch and let yourself into your messy living room covered in stay books and disposable coffee cups you hadn’t yet gotten rid of.

You latched the door behind you carefully and carried the fox going scarily limp in your arms through the house and into the bathroom.

“Don’t go to sleep, please,” you begged the droopy-eyed fox as you placed it in the bathtub.

It seemed to struggle to stand and you knew you had to work fast. Helping it lay down surrounded by the porcelain walls, you moved to the sing, ripping open the medicine cabinets and began rifling through everything you had, which wasn’t too much. You may have been training to be a veterinarian, but that didn’t mean you were already practicing.

Luckily, after shuffling around, you managed to find basic rubbing alcohol and peroxide along with several large bandages, gauze, and, the best find yet, suture thread with a needle.

Pulling on a pair of gloves you usually used to dye your hair, you turned back to the tub with your utensils only to find the fox had drifted off to sleep, pants leaving its mouth. It didn’t have much time left and you’d be damned if you let it die in your house.

Grabbing a towel and a pair of scissors, you knelt by the tub. With the scissors, you hastily cut away the fur surrounding the wound, getting yourself a better image of the wound itself while also making it easier to clean.

Once the wound was exposed, you didn’t know whether you were relieved or panicked, staring at the long gash clearly having been made from a sharp knife. This was no animal fight as you’d first thought. This was intentional and likely had been done by a human. No wonder it had been so scared, yet it begged the question, why had it trusted you?

You pressed a towel to the still weeping wound, pressing down hard to still the bleeding. Once it was mostly halted, you poured peroxide on the wound, flushing out any dirt and grime before washing it with rubbing alcohol that surely would have hurt like hell had the animal been conscious.

With the wound cleaned, you sterilized the suture kit with the rubbing alcohol and threaded your needle. You’d done suture’s before, but only on test dummies. Having a real patient had your stomach twisting in knots, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Bringing the needle to the skin, you began to stitch up the now cleaned wound, careful not to injure the fox further. The stitches weren’t pretty by the time you’d finished. A professional could have done a much better job, but at least the wound was closed. You placed a bandage over the wound before wrapping the gauze carefully around the fox’s waist, keeping it loose enough it didn’t constrict him, but tight enough to keep pressure on the wound.

Time was still sensitive. You very well may not have gotten to it before it lost too much blood and you had no way of administering a transfusion. It was solely up to the fox now whether it lived or died.

As it slept in the tub, you ran your fingers through it’s fur, too scared to leave it alone. As you stroked around the foxes neck, your fingers gazed over metal beads buried deep in the fur. Curiosity got the better of you and carefully, you pulled at the beads until you unveiled a dark metal necklace that resembled a collar only slightly.

Inquisitively, you trailed your fingers along the beaded necklace of a collar until you gripped the base, the end that hung down at the fox’s chest. It was then that you saw it.

Resting at the base of the necklace was a dog tag with only one marking. A marking that spelled out a name.

Yuta.

As you ran the tag over in your hands, careful to not disturb the fox, you found no address or number to call. There was nothing to give you any information about who this pup belonged to. However, you supposed, whoever it was wasn’t a very good owner if the knife wound were anything to go by.

Letting the necklace drop from your hold, you ran your hands over the fox’s head.

“Yuta,” you mumbled to yourself.

The name had a nice ring. A name that seemed to roll off your tongue as though your tongue was meant to speak it. And perhaps that holds true as the moment the last syllable left your throat, the fox was stirring, shifting as it-he slowly regained consciousness until his yellow eyes met yours.

Something seemed to stir inside you at that moment and you found yourself reaching out to touch the animal again, a touch the fox shifted into, nuzzling against your hand as if he wholly trusted you. You didn’t really know why the fox would trust you, but your heart beamed with joy. A joy that you knew meant you wouldn’t be letting this fox run back out into the wild unless it’s something he truly wanted, but you could already tell, the fox was going nowhere.

That statement seemed to hold true as the next few days passed and Yuta was finally able to walk around a bit more. He tired easily and had a bit of a limp, but he’d managed to walk from one room to another easy enough before giving you a look that begged you to pick him up. Even now, as you sat on the living room couch, laptop perched on your thighs, surrounded by mountains of resource material books, Yuta made his way from napping in the bedroom to where you sat.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in your work that you were slightly unaware of your surroundings, but as he pressed his cold nose against your exposed ankle, you took in a sharp breath, eyes glancing down at the mischievous fox who had learned just how to get his way.

“What do you want?” you asked.

It had become normal for you to ask him questions you’d ask a human. The fox seemed more and more human every day, which made him likely the most intelligent animal you’d ever encountered. He truly was one of a kind.

‘Pick me up.’

A masculine voice suddenly permeated your made, making you yelp out at the suddenness of it all, head shaking as you dropped your computer onto the ground, hand coming up to hit lightly against your head.

That was a voice you’d never heard before and most definitely was not your consciousness.

‘Calm down human, it’s only me.’

The voice spoke again, eliciting yet another yelp from your lips as you looked around. There was no one in your house save for yourself and Yuta. No windows or doors were left open and, unless someone was hiding in your closet and speaking, there was no one around. The voice itself was too vivid, too clear to be heard through your ears anyways which ultimately lead you to the conclusion that the voice was in your head, although that didn’t make anything better.

“I’ve finally gone crazy!” you murmured to yourself, eyes wide with worry and fear. “I’m hearing voices! It’s only a matter of time before they lock me up!”

‘(y/n), calm down! It’s only me! Yuta!’

“What?!” you screeched.

You didn’t bother looking down at the fox on the floor. There was absolutely no possible way the voice in your mind was the voice of an injured fox named Yuta who’d come to live with you a few days ago! There was no possible way! You were just-

‘Would you stop saying you're crazy before you really upset me!’

“Leave me alone!” you squealed.

You jumped up off the couch when suddenly, a rush of tranquility washed over you, ebbing the panic away as the masculine voice was once again in your mind, this time, in a much gentler tone.

‘Calm down before you hurt yourself. Look down at me on the floor. Look into my eyes and you’ll understand.’

You don’t know whether it was the sudden sense of calm that had you keeping cool, curiosity, or sheer trust that had you lowering your gaze to the floor where they met Yuta’s yellow ones. As soon as your eyes locked on his, a rush of comforting heat surged through your body, spreading from your eyes down to your toes while washing over your brain. Your knees buckled and your body crashed against the couch as thoughts and memories surged through you, eventually knocking you unconscious, head lulling against the couch cushions.

Two Hundred Years Earlier

When you opened your eyes, your living room was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were standing in a deep, open space painted a galaxy shade of purple. Beside you was a handsome man with long, dark hair that touched his shoulders. He had a lean face and boxy jaw leading to a square chin that only added to his handsomeness. His shoulders were broad but he wasn’t all that muscular, rather, he was lean. A grey shirt wrapped around his frame, long black shorts flowed to a stop below his knees.

“Who are you?” your voice cracked.

“I am Yuta,” said the man, the voice the same one you’d heard in your mind earlier.

“W-what- How-...?” you couldn’t seem to conjugate the words properly.

“I wasn’t going to tell you until later. But I am Yuta, and the fox version of myself… well that’s technically my natural form. While injured, I take that form,” he explained.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. This Yuta was your Yuta… Your Yuta had a human form… Your Yuta… the fox you’d been sharing your bed with… had a human form…

“Easy now, I’m not sure what happens if you pass out when you're not awake!” the man said, hands grabbing your shoulders to still your wobbling form.

“But how-- I…”

“I’m going to show you,” he spoke softly.

With that, he snapped his fingers and the purple room evaporated from sight. You let out a small screech as it was replaced with air rushing around your face as your bodies hurtled straight from the sky into a forest you’d never seen before. A forest that certainly wasn’t in your backyard.

You touched ground without so much of a wince, your feet settling gently on the plush, mossy earth.

“You’ll get used to that,” Yuta promised as he clasped an arm around your waist to hold your quivering body steady.

“W-where are we…”

“Japan. 200 years in the past.”

“WHAT?! But-”

You trailed off as your eyes caught sight of a beautiful fox with nine tails flowing proudly from her backside strode up in front of your prying eyes, a young fox pup not too far behind, accompanied by his father who kept nudging at the pups hindquarters playfully, earning small little yips from the pup.

“They’re so adorable! Who are they?!”

Yuta didn’t answer for a long moment and when you looked at his face, you caught the fading wisps of a painful memory.

“The pup is me…” he spoke. “And my parents.”

You were about to open your mouth to ask about them when there was a rustle in the trees and a group of six men appeared, each one looking meaner than the next.

Yuta’s father turned away from the pup, who was drawn closer by his mother, as his father approached the men.

“Do you wish to honor our son?” you could hear the father ask although you knew he wasn’t physically speaking.

“Freak!! Unnatural piece of nature!!” screamed one of the men, drawing his sword.

“Hey! Show some respect!” you wailed, fist clenched as you glared at the man who seemed to not even notice you.

Yuta’s arm tugged on your waist, pulling you against his side.

“This is a memory… My memory… There’s nothing we can do or say that will change the past…” he whispered.

“You don’t want to do that!” Yuta’s father exclaimed. “We are kitsunes! We are luck and fortune!”

“Freak!!” the man squealed, swinging his sword at Yuta’s father, who turned to flee from the men, ready to protect his family with his power when another man slashed a sword at the fox’s backside, slashing through all nine tails.

You let out a squeak, hands coming to cover your mouth as a pained cry left the fox’s mouth moments before his body hit the ground and life left his body. You could see the spirit of the fox lifting, rising into the trees, where it would rest as a ghost, keeping watch on it’s family.

The men howled with glee and charged over the fox’s body, trampling it as they made their way for the mother and her pup.

The blaze of a campfire suddenly sparked from the place Yuta’s mother was planning on cooking dinner. A ball of fire lunged at the men, who dodged, and the fire only made them angrier.

The female, just as strong as her husband, held the men at bay with a wall of fire, managing to severely burn four of the six men before the kindling in the fire had died and all was left was embers. She could bend fire, but not without a fire.

“Looks like you’re all out of ideas,” one man, the man who’d killed his father chuckled.

The pup whimpered and burrowed itself in his mothers side, not quite old enough to possess all the powers of his parents.

Frantically, the female fox turned to the pup and, without hesitating, bit down onto its scruff. The pup cried out at the sudden jostle, but his mother did nothing but squeeze tighter. With her pup held close, she leaped over the fallen men and darted into the forest, putting as much distance between herself and the men as she could.

The air around you and Yuta rustled past your faces and suddenly, without moving your feet, your bodies were standing beside a fox and her pup who were now both panting, far from the men that would come searching for them.

“Yuta, listen to me child. The humans are turning on us, but you mustn’t let that stop you from being yourself, from being a true and great kitsune!” the fox’s voice permeated your mind. “The humans will hurt you, try to kill you as it has been prophesied, but you mustn’t let their ways sway you from your duties.”

“Mom!” the fox cried.

He could tell, even at such a tender age, what his mother was about to do.

“You will find your soulmate, who will be human, and you must make the human understand who and what you are. They must understand where you come from. And, if they accept you, bonds between man and fox will be restored once more!”

Her voice was urgent as the sounds of the men tracking them grew louder. Your heart hammered in your chest. You knew what was going to happen, but your heart wept at the fate of the family torn apart. Yuta’s arm around your waist fastened to you tighter, although you weren’t sure if he was holding you or himself together.

You don’t know what spurred you to move, but you turned toward him slightly, enough to unpin your arm from your side, and wrapped both of your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly as together, you watched his mother kiss her pups head softly before dashing off toward the men.

There were yells along with a high pitched whimper before her spirit rose into the air to join her mates, leaving the young pup all alone.

You buried your face in Yuta’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter as a few tears slipped from your eyes, dropping onto his shirt. You’d only witnessed a memory. Yuta had been there. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt the day both of his parents were killed by greedy, uneducated humans.

Present Day

You stood there, embracing Yuta for what seemed like hours before the air was shifting around you again and, by this time, you knew what that meant.

When the air stopped and you opened your eyes, pulling your face from Yuta’s neck, you were standing against the wall of a small little shop that resembled what you would have imagined to be an apothecary’s shop. White-wicked candles burned around the tiny, clutter-filled room, casting a smoky glow around the shop, surrounding the shelved knick-knacks and bottles of liquid medicine. Inside the shop, sitting behind a desk stacked with papers, was a middle-aged man with snow white hair and tan, wrinkled skin, so many wrinkles it looked as though he were shedding. The bags under his eyes were drooping low on his face, making his entire face seem to sag.

“Who is he?” you asked.

“His name’s Mr. Huang.”

Yuta seemed to know that that didn’t answer your question, but you didn’t have time to inquire further before the door to the shop was opening and Yuta, your Yuta, walked in, dressed the exact same as he was now.

This must have been recent…

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang,” Yuta greeted, giving him a respectful bow.

“What do you want, boy?”

Mr. Huang’s voice was mean and cruel, riddled with an angry snarl as his now beady snake eyes looked up to pierce Yuta’s brown ones.

“Is Mrs. Huang nearby? I had a few more questions about the prophecy regarding my soulmate,” Yuta said, seemingly unfazed by the man's harsh tone.

The question only seemed to make Mr. Huang angrier as stood up with, slamming his hands down on the desk.

“Mrs. Huang died this morning,” he snarled.

Yuta’s face dropped, skin growing pale as the man stalked toward him.

“You promised us she wouldn’t die!” the man hissed, slowly approaching Yuta.

Yuta backed up slowly, his eyes racing around the room, looking for something he could use for leverage when his eyes landed on an envelope with his name scrawled onto it.

Discreetly, he picked up the envelope and slid it into his back pocket.

“Mr. Huang, I did everything that I could do. I promised you’d I’d do my best to heal her! But she had lung cancer! I gave her as much life as I could!” Yuta said.

“That’s not good enough!” Mr. Huang yelled.

He reached into his back pocket and produced a long knife with a jagged edge. You gasped loudly as the man lunged at Yuta. Yuta, carefully dodged the first and the second jab, but by the third, his back was pressed against a wall. Mr. Huang stabbed the knife into Yuta’s side, right above his hip. Yuta cried out on pain, clutching his side.

“Let’s see how you fare against pure silver!” Mr. Huang snarled.

Silver wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow his healing way down. His body could be unable to atone for the wound. That coupled with his young form without having a soulmate to help him heal faster would prohibit him from healing much faster than a normal human.

With the blade still lodged in his side, Yuta shoved past the man and bolted for the door, running straight into the forest, careful not to be seen by any other human.

You followed this Yuta’s movements, your Yuta holding close to you as together, you watched this Yuta drop to his knees and pull the blade from his side, crying out at the pain before dropping it.

The boy cried out as he clutched his side in pain, slowing the bleeding as much as he could before leaning himself against a tree, the same tree near the bush where you’d found him.

His body began to shake with the weight of blood loss and you wanted to run to him, but your Yuta held you back.

“It gets better,” he whispered in your ear.

You didn’t like it. You hated watching the man die, but there was nothing you could do. This may be happening in front of you, but it had already happened in the past.

With shaky fingers, Yuta used his free hand to dig the now wrinkled envelope out of his pocket, specks of blood dotting the starch white.

He opened the envelope with that one hand and pulled out the letter inside. Somehow, you managed to see the letter from here.

Yuta,

If you can find it in your heart to forgive my husband for what he has done, please do. I know that he can have a temper, and he isn’t the best when it comes to dealing with his emotions, but he means well, usually anyways. I have no doubt that he has tried (if not succeeded) to commit bodily harm after my passing. He will likely be unable to handle himself after my death.

The truth is, I’ve always known there was nothing you could do about my condition. Guess that comes with the territory of being an old witch. You know when you’re going to die. But don’t worry, sweetheart, today is not your time. You still have that soulmate of yours to meet.

Your mother was right about the prophecy. I do apologize that I could not speak of it with you. The fact is, my husband is one of those humans that will be swayed when you meet your soulmate, and as such, I couldn’t have you or him finding too much information out. The future is tricky like that.

I just thought you should know, dear boy, that your soulmate will appear to you soon. I cannot say when. Yes, I know, but again, the future can be a tricky thing. When they do show up, they won’t hesitate to show you compassion and kindness. You will also find yourself drawn to their gentle soul. And they will be drawn to you, although they will not be able to explain. Go easy on them, hun. They are human after all. Humans are not as good at understanding things like this as you and I are. Be gentle. Ease them into it.

While all of this is nice, I do also have to give you a warning. When your soulmate is revealed to you, you will know almost immediately. However, it may take them a bit, especially if you aren’t as a human. Be patient. However, if all else fails, show them this letter. I will write your soulmate's name at the bottom. The future will allow that.

My second warning is to tell them your past. The burden is not yours to bear alone. Prophecy says that when you meet your human soulmate, humans will stop trying to kill you and those like you. Conspiracy says this is because they will understand who you are and what you are set on this earth to do. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The gods have seen what terrible things humans can do, and it has swayed their opinions (for the better in my opinion). Rather than revealing your purpose to the humans, only a varying few will know the truth, your soulmate being one of them. The memories of Kitsune’s and other supernatural creatures will be erased from the minds of most humans, so you must be careful with this new chance in life. You must hide your identity as a Kitsune from everyone except family.

Now Yuta, I want you to know that these last two years have meant the world to me. I love you my dear boy and I will always be watching over you along with your parents.

Find your soulmate, and love them as hard and as deeply as you can.

Love,

Mrs. Huang

Ps: your soulmate's name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Treat them well.

Your eyes widened at the last note of the letter before Yuta folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

“(Y-Y/N)... but… that’s my name…” you muttered.

The man beside you didn’t utter a word as the Yuta you were watching suddenly began to quiver even harder than he already was and, within a few seconds, in his place was the same fox pup you’d rescued a few days ago.

“Wait… so… the pup… you really are the pup!” you exclaimed.

Yuta turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

“Tell me you didn’t just get that.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead trained your eyes back on the pup who was crawling under the bush to hide. Time suddenly began to speed up and within a few moments, you saw yourself kneeling in front of the bush in the dark, peering at the fox.

“So I… I was meant to find you… We’re connected…”

Yuta nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, and I am yours.”

You didn’t say anything. Your voice felt like it was locked in your throat as a rush of air once again brushed past your face, taking you somewhere new, although you weren’t sure what else was left to see.

“The future is a tricky thing,” Yuta’s voice whispered as the world became a blur of shapes and colors as you were taken to someplace new to see more sights that would expand your outlook on life itself.

Undetermined time in the future

The wind stopped brushing past your cheek and you stood in front of a small, cozy house with a broad backyard and a large forest filled with thick trees, perfect for running. You saw yourself, or rather, an older version of yourself, sitting on a pink and purple throw blanket in the middle of the backyard. Beside you sat a brown picnic basket waiting to be opened and a vacant seat on the other side of the blanket. The older you smiled softly as the clouds in the sky parted and a beam of sunlight shone down, warming your body naturally.

Older you looked far too happy to be on that picnic alone, so your eyes scanned the valley for someone you hoped was there.

“I haven’t seen this yet either,” Yuta whispered.

He brought his arm back around your waist, keeping you fixed to his side, not that you were complaining. Somehow, it felt you belonged at his side.

As your eyes scanned the yard, you almost missed the two bodies emerging from the forest. One was the body of a tall man, a body you immediately recognized to be Yuta’s. The other was a much smaller body, the body of a young girl whom you couldn’t see all that clearly.

Yuta’s breath hitched and you turned to look at him.

“Do you know her?”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two as they approached the picnic blanket where the older you waited, waving your hand to the two with a bright grin on your face.

Yuta’s reaction to the girl had you pausing to take a closer look at him, waiting for him to tell you who this young girl was. When he seemingly noticed you staring, he turned to look at you.

“I honestly don’t know her. But she has been prophesied many times,” he spoke, voice shaking with emotion.

“She wasn’t in the prophecy I heard,” you conjured.

Yuta shook his head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“There’s not just one prophecy,” he answered. “There are many, about many different things that allow us a glimpse into our fate, but somehow, they never play out the way you think they will.”

“Can you tell me the other prophecies?”

Yuta turned his attention back to the scene and urged you to do the same, but you caught him nodding to your question as the little girl jumped into your lap, laughing and giggling as you began to tickle her.

“I will tell you all of them,” he promised.

The scene before you was nothing like what you’d seen earlier. There was no blood or death or attempted murder. No sacrifices or ominous warnings. There was nothing but peace and love, and if that was your fate, you were happy with it.

The older Yuta sat down beside you on the picnic blanket and, as the young girl became distracted chasing a butterfly, he dipped a finger under your chin and lifted your face to his.

“I love you, my Flower,” he spoke softly.

“I love you too, my Fox.”

He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, a kiss so soft you felt as though you were prying just by watching, and, although it didn’t last long and your own lips hadn’t felt the gentle touch, you knew there was no kiss quite as sweet as the ones from Yuta.

The backyard disintegrated into an array of pickles before your eyes fluttered open and you were staring at the ceiling of the same rental house you’d spent the last three years.

“Was it all a dream?”

“Yes and no,” a familiar voice spoke next to you.

This time, you didn’t jump at the sound of the voice, although you weren’t sure if it was because it was familiar, or if it was because it wasn’t in your head this time.

Turning your head, you caught the sight of Yuta, standing just as he had been in your dream, wearing clothes that were coated in blood, likely the same ones he’d been wearing when he was stabbed.

“How are you not a fox anymore?” you asked.

He smiled as he knelt down on the couch where you were still sprawled out.

“Your human mind couldn't accept the truth earlier. That’s why you freaked out when I began speaking into your mind, which is something I can only do in fox form,” he added. “When I calmed you down by accessing your nervous system, I realized you were going to have to see the truth, so I knocked you out and took you on the journey with me. You had to live through that one way or another,” he explained.

You didn’t understand, not really anyways, not the full story, at least. What you did understand was 1) Yuta was a kitsune, 2) he had a very dark past, and 3) you were his soulmate and, although you hadn’t known him for very long, you were 100% ok with that.

“Now, do you think you can stay calm long enough for me to do something I was dying to do the entire time?” he asked.

“What?”

“This.”

Without further exchange of words, Yuta’s plump lips were on yours and, for the first time through the whole ordeal, you could feel it. And you knew it wouldn’t take much until you were addicted. Because he was Nakamoto Yuta. Kitsune. And your soulmate.

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harbouredsoulss · 3 years

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Exit Wound - 2nd & Final Part

Author’s note:

SUPRISE!

I was so close to turning this into three parts. Instead I decided I would make this one longer! I really loved writing this!

I am so excited to share more stories with you! I have so much planned.

I really really hope you enjoy this! Please don’t forget to like, comment, & reblog. I would really appreciate it 💞

If you’d like to be added to my Tag List for any EZ, Angel, Mayan or all of my fics, just let me know 🥰

You can read Part One here and my Masterlist here.

EZ Reyes X [OC] Amalia

Warnings: Injured EZ! Mentions of blood. Swearing! Fluff. SEX.

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: EZ brought a knife to a gun fight. Now Amalia is stuck having to use her nursing skills to save her boyfriends life. Will she save him?

_________________________________

She sat there for a time, kneeling beside the couch, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he took in unsteady breaths. Angel had begged her to go to bed and get some rest but she couldn’t bring herself to leave EZ’s side.

Angel tried everything he could think of to convince her to go to sleep but knew nothing he would say could change her mind.

It was moments like this where Angel hoped he would find something like this one day. The unwavering love and commitment Amalia had for his brother was unshakeable and made him slightly jealous, though he would never say that out loud.

Later on in the night Coco and Gilly had come back to drop off the pain relief and antibiotics. They didn’t stay too long, they could tell just by looking at her she wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone, nor should she be. They left with goodbyes and good luck, though they kept the latter for Angel’s ears only. Amalia was grateful they had gotten back so quick with the supplies and she desperately wanted to wake EZ and give him the medicine as soon as possible but she knew he needed to rest, and decided it could wait until he wakes.

The minutes ticked down as did the hours as she sat there, eyes trained on the rise and fall of her lover’s chest. For a time, she sat there caressing his face, allowing silent tears to stream down her own. His forehead was covered with sweat, his temperature rising. She wiped at the beads of sweat with a wet rag, allowing the cold cloth to mildly ease his fever down.

When dawn was nearing, Amalia found herself drifting in and out of consciousness, head resting on her arm that lay on the edge of the couch, her fingers intertwined with EZ’s. Her mind continued to torture her with fleeting visions of EZ dying on their sofa, blood pouring from his wounds, voice screaming in pain, echoing all around her. There were moments where she would wake with a start, eyes wide, squeezing his hand, running hers up and down his arm just to feel his warmth. To see he was still there with her.

She continued these bouts of suffering as her body fought for her to sleep and it was only after the third nightmarish vision, she had of losing EZ that her mind rewarded her with a faint memory instead of a twisted dream. It was of a time when their relationship was new and fresh. Yearning, and anticipation reaching the cusp, they had finally given in to their desires. It was the beginning of everything, and that’s where her memory took her.

Amalia’s body was wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together she couldn’t tell where she began and EZ ended. Her breathing was laboured, hands running up and down tracing the ridges of his chest. It was the night they had first slept together, though this moment was long after they enjoyed each other.

EZ had fallen asleep with his arm around her waist. Sleep didn’t come easy to Amalia that night. She was too buzzed with what they had done. She’d had sex before, and like EZ, she would have drifted off by now but that night everything felt different and it was as she continued laying there listening to his intake of breath, as his dreams consumed him, she soon realised why.

“How do you feel,” she heard him murmur against her skin.

“Amazing,” she whispered, a coy smile on her face, “but I thought you were asleep?”

Craning her neck, she turned to look up at EZ and found him just as she thought, fast asleep. It took everything in her to not burst out laughing. She felt ridiculous beyond belief. EZ was talking in his sleep.

“I love you,” she froze, hand stilling on EZ’s cheek as she heard him speak those words they had never shared before.

“Te quiero, Amalia.”

The memories were so intense, and powerful Amalia ended up crying herself awake. Though this time when she woke, she found EZ’s head turned towards her, eyes opened wide watching her.

“You’re awake,” she said, voice cracking.

“Barely.” he whispered back, wincing as he tried to move his body to face her more clearly.

“Baby,” she whined, standing up and gently placing both her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, “you need to stay put.”

Her face hovered above his as she stood like that, trying to make her point as gently as possible. His eyes stared into hers not before taking in the look on her face, which happened to be wrought with anguish and exhaustion, cheeks tear stained with lips cracked and bleeding. He could only imagine what she had gone through within the past twenty-four hours.

She didn’t say anything for a moment and neither did he. They just stared at one another. Observing the contours of one another’s faces, making sure to mark this moment in their memory. Though EZ had no problem with that, he never forgets.

“How long have you been sitting there?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“All night,” she said as she pulled away to sit on the coffee table behind her, “I had to make sure you didn’t die. I wasn’t alone though.” She pointed to where Angel’s sleeping form laid on the recliner positioned to EZ’s right.

“He refused to leave and kept nagging me to go to bed.”

“You should’ve listened to him.”

“And you wouldn’t have done the same thing? EZ we both know if the roles were reversed – if it were me on this couch right now, you wouldn’t have left my side either. Hell, you would’ve driven me to the hospital.”

They were at a stalemate both knowing she was right. Both knowing nothing more could be said to contradict her statement. He was madly in love with this woman and wouldn’t live in a world where she didn’t. He would have also stayed.

“If I had lost you EZ, I-I I don’t think I could live with myself.”

She looked at him then and allowed all her despair and anger to seep its way out of her. To expose him to it. His body stilled and he tried to turn away not wanting to see what he put her through. But he looked and watched as she could finally breath in relief. It struck him suddenly – piercingly, as to how much he had put her through, and because of that he could have sworn he heart his heart begin to break.

“I know,” he whispered, though he knew he would never truly know until he was in the same position.

There wasn’t much that could be said for what happened. EZ knew he could apologise; profusely, however, it would do no good. What he brought to Amalia – what he put her through was something he knew would kill him had it been her bleeding, damaged body brought to his door step. If it were him who had to sew up her wounds.

Throughout the day little to no words were shared between them. Though that didn’t mean anything sinister to their relationship. EZ knew once he was better, he could make it up to her and Amalia knew that nothing EZ did to hurt her was intentional. He didn’t ask to be shot. She knew what she was getting herself into when they started dating, hell, even before that. She knew who EZ was and she loved him anyway.

__________________________

Four weeks later

“No fondling the help!” Amalia said, doing her best to swipe EZ’s wandering hands away which were trying to make their way up her skirt.

He lay on their bed, wound still covered and healing. He was a lot stronger than that night. Since then, he had been out and about, though his nurse was strict and limited him when it came to wandering around. She was too afraid he would rip open his stitches.

“It’s not my fault you’re so… sexy.”

Through his healing process Amalia found EZ’s sex drive, which had thus far been neglected, had grown, and at first, she was scared. Too afraid of hurting him, or injuring him further. Though as he began to heal, albeit, slowly, she allowed their nefarious activities to return – though they were limited. She could tell he wanted more than what she gave but she couldn’t quite get past that fear.

The first time they had sex after the incident involved Amalia on top, hands on either shoulder, straddling EZ’s waist. His wound was still on her mind at all times, as was the fear. EZ couldn’t have cared less. He wanted inside and was willing to have his stitches tear if it meant getting what he wanted.

She felt like a nervous teenager again who was about to lose her virginity, unsure of what to do with her hands. She was too afraid to put too much pressure on different parts of his body. Too afraid to hurt him.

“You won’t kill me by touching me,” he said, hands gripping her waist as he ground the most sensitive part of her body onto his, “but not touching me, will.”

A small gasp left her mouth as he repeated the action again. It had been so long since they had touched each other like this, though she was still clothed. She wanted to give in and remove the fear from herself. She was close to doing so, especially when his fingers found her clit. He had moved her panties to the side and began rubbing the little nub slowly.

EZ loved hearing the sounds that escaped as he teased her. He lay there looking up watching her as he continued to pleasure her, and allowed himself to ease a finger inside.

“Fuck! EZ!”

He grinned, proud to hear his name on her lips and added another. He could feel the tension within her begin to build slowly as he picked up the pace, and knew she was close, but he was selfish. He wanted to be inside her when she came.

Removing his fingers, he tried as best he could, withholding a wince, to push his cock inside her. By this point, Amalia had stilled already missing where his fingers had been, not expecting the intrusive entrance of his cock.

“Ride me,” he rasped, “ride me hard.”

She did as he begged, disregarding her previous fears.

She fucked him hard and fast, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. His pleasure was ecstasy and that made him numb to the pain. It made him lean forward gripping the back of her neck, pulling her head back so he could lavish her throat with his lips. With one hand on her waist, he allowed the other to find her breasts. He began to tease her nipples one at a time tweaking the little buds enjoying the sounds escaping her as he did so. Soon his mouth ventured down to her chest and gave it the same attention he did her throat. He left small purple bruises on her skin. Some that would have been easy to hide, others more difficult.

The pressure was beginning to build inside them both, becoming more intense. It caused them to go harder and faster than they did before which Amalia did not think was physically possible. This meant that they had no rhythm. Not that they minded. They just continued to thrust their bodies towards one another seeking the friction and pleasure they needed to get to the end. EZ’s fingers we back on her clit rubbing furiously, willing Amalia closer and closer to her orgasm. He wanted her to cum first, clenching herself on his cock as he had experienced in the past. He had missed this. Her.

“Fuck EZ!” She was close, so close.

“Come on baby,” he panted in her ear, urging her on.

“I’ve got you,” he cooed, “just let go.”

And she did.

She screamed his name, voice cracking as he continued to fuck her.

Her clit abandoned, he gripped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he finally brought himself to climax.

A loud moan escaped him, her name a whisper on his lips that he chose to repeat over and over again as his climax washed over him. His thrusts began to slow as they began to cool down. He brought his face closer to hers, forehead to forehead. Lips brushing each other’s.

“You’re bleeding.” She whispered.

He looked down briefly and caught sight of his white bandage that now showed splotches of blood.

“It was worth it.” He grinned.

TAGLIST [OPEN]: @appropriate-writers-name

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coreychick · 3 years

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Chapter 14: The Reward

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story / Adventure & Romance

Din X Fem Reader Insert

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Just a reminder, I do not post warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you.

Din Djarin. His name is Din. It’s like Mando himself, simple, strong, and to the point. It’s fucking perfect.

Din pulls himself up into a sitting position with a heavy groan. You cover your eyes and turn your head away from him, knowing that he is overly exposed and wanting to give him whatever protection you can offer in this vulnerable state. Yes, that’s why- No way is it because you don’t want to appear teary eyed in front of him.

He leans forward and you can hear him dragging his helmet closer, across the floor.

“Take as much time as you need, I promise I won’t look….never looked.”

When he answers, it’s with his normal voice- unmodulated.

“I know you didn't, thank you.”

You sense his movements as he turns to face you.

“You’re hurt.” he says, lightly pushing your hand away from shielding your eyes. You leave them tightly closed, as he gently grabs your chin- turning your head to the side.

“I’m ok.”

“You’re bleeding from the ears.”

“I am?” You run your hand up to the side of your face and feel dried blood running down the side of your jaw and crusted in your hair.

“I think I’m alright. I gave us both bacta shots.”

You can hear him get up and make his way over to the supply shelves. He begins shuffling through the supplies, much the way you had only moments ago. He returns, his beskar making a loud thunk, as he drops down on his knees in front of you. You hear the sound of a package being torn open and a bottle of liquid being sloshed. You flinch when a wet cloth makes contact with your face. He begins carefully wiping at different parts of your face. You realize you must be covered in small scratches because all of them sting. Another hot tear slips down your cheek.

A minute ago, I thought he might be dead, now he’s tending to my wounds?

“You ok?” he says, dabbing at the tear. “This...has been a lot.”

You give a little light hearted huff, “I’ve had better days for sure, but yeah, I’m ok.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah,”- you say, brushing off his concern- “I mean, I’m pretty upset about V-1 though, we were like this,” you say, holding up two crossed fingers.

“Yes. What a tragedy that was.” he says, making you smile.

“And I lost my blaster.”

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll get you a new one.”

You take a deep breath, the bacta starting to take the edge off. “What about you? Are you sure you’re ok? We crashed so hard...I don’t even know how we’re alive right now.”

“We’re alive because of you. You slowed the fall. Did you know that?”

I slowed the fall?

”I wasn’t sure. It’s not what I was trying to do- I was trying to stop us from falling all together, but it didn’t work.”

“It did. We never would have survived that impact, otherwise.”

You sigh, taking a cue from his playbook.

He finishes wiping at your face when you insist that you’re ok and then sits down to lean up against the wall. He grabs you around the waist and pulls you into the V of his splayed legs so that you can lean your back against his chest. You can finally open your eyes without fear of accidentally seeing his face.

“You’re getting stronger.”

“How so? I failed to stop us, remember?”

“Because, you’re awake. You didn’t go down for a three day nap this time.”

He’s right.

The other few times you had tried using your influence to this degree, it had always caused you to black out. This is both exciting and terrifying news.

“You’re right- of course now I’m starting to see the appeal of passing out and waking up clean and comfortable in a nice bed.”

He begins gently petting your hair and it feels so damn good and relaxing.

“Speaking of, how did I end up here?”

“I had to drag you back- I guess that makes us even.”

“Even, would be if you had carried me back, while holding a mudhorn egg.”

You laugh, “Fair enough. You win.”

You lean your head back to rest against his shoulder, closing your eyes as his fingers start to work in combination with the bacta- your body relaxing to his touch.

“I didn’t know you only see things in black and white.” you say, referring to his helmet.

“Makes tracking easier.”

Your heart pangs for him, but you don’t voice it. He knows exactly what he sacrifices to keep his helmet on.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask instead, starting to feel a little bacta buzz.

Mando’s silent for a beat.

“Don’t know, guess I never really thought about it. What’s yours?”

“Green. I love greens- especially after being in the desert. If I ever have a home of my own, I’ll fill it up with plants so I can have green everywhere.”

He continues petting your hair, stopping only to trace a finger down the rim of your ear.

“Like on Sorgan?”

“Mmm, Sorgan was really nice.”

You wait a second and then muster the courage to ask him something you’ve been dying to know- the bacta aiding to dull your inhibitions.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Did you sleep with Omera?”

His hand stills in your hair, your question obviously catching him by surprise.

“What do you think?”

“I think...She’s very beautiful, and she was clearly smitten with you. You were gone...a lot. I can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t have, and….” , you trail off.

“And what?”

“If you were feeling even half the frustration I was...the opportunity was there for you to take.”

“Would you be upset if I did?”

You think about it for a minute, wanting to give an honest answer.

“Not upset. Envious maybe, but not upset.”

“I did seek relief.” he says, causing your stomach to plummet.

He waits a few seconds and then adds, “..but not with her.”

“With someone else?”

“No. I’m afraid I was left to my own devices.”

You laugh lightly, sweet relief flooding your veins.

“Well, on that front, we really are even then.”

Din lets out a soft groan, bringing his lips up against your ear to whisper.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“You put images in my head, things I don’t need to be thinking about right now.”

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No, I’m furious with you. Only now I’m thinking of other ways to handle it.”

The bacta is making you feel all warm and tingly now, your aches and pains dissolving away until nothing but arousal is left in their place.

“Like, how?” you say, arching your back into him more.

“When we get back to the ship, I’ll show you.”

“You will?” you say, sounding disbelieving.

Mando makes a little groan of frustration. “I tried locking you up, and that didn’t work. For weeks and weeks I tried to do the right thing, and that didn’t work out either- you still ended up right here, right where I didn’t want you to be. If I had known you were gonna end up here the whole time anyway…”

“Then, what?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath.

“One of the great regrets of my life will be that I wasn’t fucking you the whole time.”

You let out a needy sigh at his words. You swear, they are somehow laced with the power to instantly wet your pussy.

“Fuck. We need to get back. Do you think you can walk?”

“Maybe. I think so. I am starting to feel a little funny...the bacta is making me a little tipsy.”

“Can you try, for me?”

You let out a groan of annoyance and get up on your feet. Mando grabs his helmet and puts it back on.

“What about you? You feeling anything?”

“Nope, I feel fine- surprisingly good actually.” He says, grabbing a new mask and battery pack from the shelf. You open your eyes when you hear his voice- modulated once again- just in time to catch him making an adjustment to the front of his pants.

“Well, that’s not fair.”

“Here, put this on.” he says, handing you the mask.

You make a pouty face- the bacta making it difficult to filter your thoughts on wearing the damn thing.

“But it doesn’t match my outfit.”

Mando places his hands around your neck and looks into your eyes.

“Put that on and I promise, when we get back to the Crest, I’ll reward you.”

You smile a little half drunken smile and put the mask on.

"I like rewards."

“Good girl.”

Every petal on every bloom is illuminated with brilliant purple light. The entire forest feels alive the way it glows. Mando leads you by the hand, as you traverse your way back to the spaceport. Only his hand gripping yours and the promise that he’ll reward you upon your return, keeps you moving forward. Otherwise all thoughts of danger would float off in the breeze- the one that carries with it, hundreds of phosphorescent petals on its tail. They drift by, some getting caught up in your hair. How you’d love to braid a crown of them to wear. You’d let Din fuck you in a pile of them if he wanted to.

He drags you back out of your stupor with another gentle tug on your hand. You had started out side by side, but as the bacta slowly overtook your system, your steps have become progressively slower and sloppier, now trailing behind him. The tiny blooms have now melted into large glowing blobs- blobs that streak across your vision if you move your head too fast.

And when did the ground start rolling like that?

“How much farther?”

“A few hours, maybe two. We should be there at first light.”

You want so badly to make it back for him- to earn that reward he promised. But your legs don’t want to carry you any further. To be honest, you’re not quite sure how they are moving at all, because surely you’re not the one controlling them any more.

“Can you make it?” he asks, looking back at you.

“Oh sure, I can make it...only, which one of you said that?”- your head lolling to the side as you try to focus.

Din sweeps you up and into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“No, no! I can walk.” you say, pounding on his chest plate with your fist.

“You're done ner atin girl.”

“But if I don’t walk, I won’t earn my reward.”

“Don’t worry, you’ve earned it.”

Mando carries you the rest of the way back to the tower as you drift in and out of consciousness. It’s not until you reach the turbolift on the ground level that he agrees to set you on your feet. Even still, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

Your first act once inside, is to remove the mask. Your head’s a lot clearer now, and anticipation is starting to take over, when you think about what’s going to happen when you get back- which is why Mando surprises you when he hits a button on the panel indicating a detour on the way.

You look at Mando questioningly.

“Just a quick stop, it’ll only take a minute.”

You nod, no big deal.

The turbolift comes to a stop, the doors opening with a whoosh to reveal the balloon hanger. Mando steps out, still holding your hand and scans the room. Finding what he is seeking, he asks you to wait here for him. He drops your hand and begins a determined walk across the bay. You step to the side and follow the path of his gaze- he’s heading straight for the man that gave you the mask yesterday.

Oh shit.

The man looks up from what he’s doing behind the desk and sees Mando bearing down on him. The look on his face says he’s very surprised to see him- alive.

“Hey, Mando…” he says.

Mando speeds up his last two steps and launches himself over the top of the counter, landing a direct punch to the man’s face. The man stumbles back holding his nose as his back goes crashing into the wall behind him. Shelves break apart and equipment goes flying everywhere. The man rushes forward and swings his own fist out in return. Mando’s too quick and arches his head back, for a miss. The man then reaches down to grab something.

A hidden weapon under the counter?

He’s too slow though. Mando shoots an arm out and his repelling wire flies out of his vambrace to wring the man’s neck. His hands instinctively fly up to the wire, cutting off his air supply. Mando yanks back his arm, forcing the man up on top of the counter and delivers a vicious head-butt with his helmet. You hear the sickening thud as beskar meets skull. The man goes limp, knocked out by the headshot.

Mando takes a few steps back, continuing to reel the man up and over the counter- His body a deadweight when it hits the floor. Mando turns around, pulling the guy across the hanger floor, leaving a blood trail as they go. All movement in the hanger has ceased, every set of eyes watching the scene playout in silence as they look on- wondering what the guy must have done to piss off the Mandalorian. You realize your own mouth is agape when Mando pulls him into the airlock that leads outside. Mando stands perfectly still on the other side of the glass doors, patiently waiting for the system to run it’s clean cycle.

Chills run down your spine when the man on the floor begins to shift and move. Mando pays him no attention. Just as the man begins to sit up on his knees, the cleaning cycle finishes and the outside doors open. Mando yanks him forward with the repelling wire around his neck. The man begins to struggle when he realizes he’s headed outside without a mask, whether he wants to or not. He makes it to his feet just as Mando releases the wire. He stands a good head above Mando, his size formidable.

The guy means to use his height to his advantage and swings his arm down in a hammering motion. Mando catches the guy's arm, stopping it before it makes contact. He delivers a swift uppercut to the underside of the guy's arm- likely breaking the bone- and then wrenches the guy's arm behind his back. The man wails out in pain as Mando forces him back down to his knees only inches away from the edge of the platform. You hold your breath as Mando leans down and says something low into the guy's ear. As you watch from this side of the glass, it’s impossible to hear what his words are. Mando releases the man’s arm and delivers a brutal kick between the man’s shoulder blades that sends him sailing over the edge. The huhks on the platform scamper away, a brave one or two stares over the edge.

You swallow, remembering to close your gaping jaw as Mando re-enters the airlock. The hanger remains still, all occupants frozen in place, waiting to see what he’ll do next. When the doors open once again, he steps out and scans the room. Deciding that there are no further threats, he makes his way back to you. He holds his hand out to you as he approaches and you gladly take it. You step back into the lift beside him and turn to see dozens of eyes locked on to you before the lift doors close.

“Just a quick stop huh?”

“Yeah, I told you it would only take a minute.”

You nod and leave it at that.

The lift takes several minutes to climb to the top of the tower where the space port is located. Once again, there is a stunning view of the world outside of the glass window passing by. Mando never acknowledges it. Instead, he stares down at your face the entire ride up.

“What? What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m trying to figure out what color your eyes are. I can’t really decide.”

“That’s what you’re thinking right now? Not what color the blossoms on those trees are or what the balloons look like all lit up?”

He’ll never know the color of another person’s eyes.

The thought is heartbreaking, but a piece of you finds satisfaction in knowing that there is a small part of you that remains hidden from his sight as well.

Just so.

You don’t tell him their color, instead using the words he said to you so many weeks ago.

If you want to know...

“I’ll never tell.”

You step into the hull of the Crest- hand in hand. Mando hits the button on the wall, retracting the ramp and closing the door. He does a quick sweep of the area and decides that everything is how he left it, nothing amiss.

“I’m going to get us moving, set our course. I’ll meet you in the shower in five.”

“You will?” you ask dumbly. It’s just that the previous times you were together it was always so spontaneous. There was no time to think, things just happened. Now you’ll have to suffer through five minutes of anticipation, the wait, knowing that things are about to happen- things that you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. Already he seems to know you so well- knew you’d want to clean yourself up before getting dirty again.

“Time for that reward we talked about.”

“Ok.”

Mando turns and climbs the ladder up to the cockpit.

‘OK?’ -That’s the best you can do?

Ordinarily you’d respond with some sort of flirtatious return, something far more enticing than “OK.” But when the man who has seemed so unsure of what exactly to do with you over the past few weeks, makes a definitive decision- sets a course for the both of you and decides without discussion, that he will in fact- be fucking you in five minutes time- so you’d better prepare; well the idea of that leaves you practically speechless.

You’re thankful for the five minutes alone. It gives you a chance to take care of a few needs you have in privacy, before Mando shows up. So you use the privy, and brush your teeth, and turn the shower on, rinsing away the initial tale-tale signs of the day. You face the showerhead, your back to the door for Mando's benefit. You reach for the wash rag and begin to soap it up when you hear the whoosh of the door behind you. Immediately, your heart begins to pound with expectation. You know the types of things that happened in this shower the last time you were both together in here.

“Eyes forward, ner atin girl.” You obey, despite not knowing the meaning of the latter words.

Is he speaking in Mando’a?

He steps up behind you, his chest pressing up against your back. The contact is an instant balm to the nervousness you feel. He brings one arm around your waist, pulling you in impossibly close. The feel of your slick bodies pressed together causes a delicious shiver to run down your spine. He reaches around with his other hand to grasp yours- the one holding the soapy rag.

“We won’t be needing this.” he says, taking it from your hand to place it back on the shelf.

Both of his arms come around the sides of your waist, his hands reaching out in front of you. You get the vague impression that he’s watching all of his movements from over your shoulder, and you have to resist the temptation to sneak a peek with your peripherals.

So trusting.

He grabs the bar of soap and works it into a deep lather between his hands. His perfect fucking hands. Strong, yet nimble. Firm yet gentle when they need to be. The most attractive set of hands you’ve ever seen in your life. You think about how skilled they are, deft with a trigger, more so with your cunt.

Those fingers. What is he going to do with them? Stroke your clit? Penetrate you? Spank you? You swallow thickly at the many possibilities.

He places the soap on the tiny shelf, next to the rag. You stand still, waiting to see what he’ll do, now that he’s in control of the situation. He surprises you by ignoring all of your erogenous zones and instead, sinks his fingers into your hair. He gently begins working his soapy hands into your locks, while his fingers massage gentle circles over your scalp. The feeling is absolute heaven as he works your hair into a deep lather. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands fly up to grasp his forearms as he works you over. It’s so relaxing, so oddly comforting. You had no idea somebody else washing your hair could feel this good. Fuck, you were wrong.

Brand new erogenous zone.

You let out a soft mewl of pleasure.

“You like this?”

“Maker, yes.”

“Good.”

You want to cry out in protest when his hands finally leave your head. He reaches out for the soap once again, re-lathering it between both of his hands. Starting at your neck, he brushes your soapy hair to the side and begins to wipe down every inch of your body with his hands. He gently rings your neck with his right hand, while his left sweeps down over your shoulder, the length of your arm, until he reaches your hand. When he gets to your fingers, he briefly entwines them with his own so that the soapy surface gets between each one. He uses his thumb to press a few gentle circles into the palm of your hand before retreating back up your arm and switching sides to repeat the whole process on the opposite side.

When he’s finished with your arms he moves on to your collarbone, pressing light kisses on your neck and shoulder as he does. You turn your head to the side, giving him better access as his hands slowly make their way down to your chest. He takes his time there, gliding his palms across your nipples. You can feel the prodding of his erection on your ass as he kneads and cups your breasts with sudsy hands.

“So lovely. So perfect.”

You’re starting to breathe heavier, his hands sliding over your flesh punctuate every word he says- so filled with adoration.

“So soft, look how you melt under my hands.”

And is it just you or are his hands way fucking bigger than you even remember?

He pulls you closer, one arm clamped around your rib cage- his hand locked onto your breast while his other hand washes over your abdomen. He sinks his hand lower, moving over your mons to cup your pussy.

“And what about here?”- his hot breath tickles your ear- “We need to wash here as well.”

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut and push back further into his body. His cock, now cradled between the sleek swells of your ass. He groans in response as his fingers gently slide between your slickened folds. He keeps his movements mechanical though- never penetrating you. He’s taking this job of cleaning you very seriously.

It’s not enough.

You try to move your hips forward, try to impale yourself on his fingers, but he pulls away. You let out a groan of frustration.

“What’s wrong?’ he asks, his voice going all low and gravelly.

“Need more.”

“More? More than this?” he says, returning his hand to massage your wet pussy. He’s so careful to deny stimulation directly to your clit.

“Yes. More.”

“Such a greedy girl. I haven't finished cleaning you yet.”

“I don’t care,”- you say groaning- “this isn’t cleaning, it’s torture.”

“Be patient. I promised I’d take care of you.”

You let out a frustrated sigh of acceptance.

“Good girl. Keep your eyes closed and turn around.”

Again you obey. You turn to face him- eyes closed, and if you thought having his erection pressed up against your backside was agony- it’s nothing compared to the intimacy of facing him.

This time he kneels down to start at your feet. You hold onto his shoulders for balance as one by one, he lifts your feet to wash them with his soapy hands. He spends a good long amount of time, running his hands up and down your legs, occasionally stopping to place soft kisses on your calf, your inner thigh and the sensitive spot behind your knee. You’re going out of your mind, knowing he’s at eye level with your pussy, but completely ignoring it. Why not just grab a handful of his thick hair and press his face between your thighs? But something tells you your patience will be better rewarded.

He stands up, again locking one arm around your waist and pulls you in tight against his chest. He uses his free hand to lightly wash your back and between your shoulder blades. Your obedience is rewarded with a tongue licking down the column of your neck.

His cock is hard and throbbing, pinned against your abdomen, calling out to you for a touch. You move your hands from his shoulders, sliding them down his firm chest, seeking out their intended target.

“Ah, ah ah.” he says, gripping your wrists, preventing you from moving any lower.

“Greedy girl, you’ll wait.”

You swallow hard, placing your hands back onto his shoulders.

“Good girl.”

He soaps up his hand a last time and pulls you in close. His hand moves across your lower back and then lower still. He cups your ass for a few seconds, making your breath hitch, and then gently slides his hand between your cheeks. You’re struck by the emotion this is causing- it’s somehow all so much more intimate than sex even- the act of bathing someone else.

You’re panting, ready to lose your mind when he sweeps his fingers across, lingering a few seconds longer at the entrance- implying there are other things he’d like to do there as well. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours.

Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one suffering here.

Again, you try to press back into his fingers, but he grips your ass tightly, to halt your movement.

“Bad girl.”

“I can’t take much more of this.” you say honestly.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done. Just have to rinse.”

He moves his hands back up to cup the sides of your head, directing you a step back further under the spray of the shower. He tilts your head back and gently massages as the water rinses away all the soap from your hair.

How does he know? It hits you that he washed every part of your body in the exact order that you always wash yourself, even leaving the hair rinse for the very end.

“How do you know?” you ask aloud, for no other reason than to hear him voice it.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve suffered watching you bathe yourself, every fucking day, for weeks on end. Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to do this? How badly I’ve wanted to replace your hands with mine each time?”

“And what if I told you, I knew you were watching...pretended it was your hands on me when I washed?”

His hand grips your neck and suddenly his lips are smashed against yours. It’s a demanding kiss, one sure to leave your head spinning and your lips swollen. He slides his tongue past your lips and you give it a gentle suck before he retreats again. He presses his forehead to yours.

“All clean now?”

“So it would seem.”

“Good. Go dry off, wait for me. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

You don’t want to leave, you want to stay and clean him just as he did you, but when he asks for a few minutes of privacy, you relent and agree.

“I’ll try, but if you don’t hurry, I may have to start without you.”

Din growls- fucking growls at that.

“Don’t you fucking dare start without me, I don’t want to miss a single minute of that.”

He turns you around and swats your ass out the door. You stop to wring your hair out once you’re out of the spray, and exit the small refresher. You’re not sure how exactly he expects you to dry off, because as far as you can tell, you’ve never seen a towel on board- So, you opt for one of Din’s shirts instead.

You notice the pile of beskar armor on the floor, including his helmet. It looks as if he discarded it haphazardly in an effort to get into the shower quickly- which makes you smile.

What to do now? Lay down on the bed, and try to strike a sexy pose? No way do you feel like you can pull that off- especially with all of the lights on. Read my book? No, absolutely not. That would send an ‘I have a headache’ message- which you definitely do not. Busy myself with cleaning? I mean really, there’s not much to be done. What’s he doing in there anyway?

You look over at the little makeshift bed on the floor, the pad just big enough for two. There’s only one blanket and one pillow, but it’s world’s better than the single cot.

Will he actually sleep beside me?

If so, you think that he’d likely want his armor as close as possible, so you decide to move the pieces beside the bed. It takes several trips, surprisingly. You stack his shoulder pauldrons, thigh guards and vambraces on top of his chest plate and pads. Then you fold up his clothing- shirt, over shirt, pants and cape- and stack them next to his boots and gloves, along with his ammo and utility belt.

You save the helmet for last, not quite sure what to do with it.

Do I put it next to the bed? Or will he reach for it when he comes out?

You pick up the helmet and sit down on a nearby cargo container. You stare into that black T on the visor. You wonder how he does this with other women.

How many of them has he trusted enough to remove it like this? How does he do this with them? How does he do it when he has to leave the helmet on? Has he ever had a close call?

“Eyes closed ner atin girl.”

His words startle you from your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the sound of the water had stopped running minutes ago. You close them tightly and spin further away, knowing that all of the lights are.

I’ll wait and see how he wants to do this.

You feel the helmet, gently being pulled out of your hands. Your heart momentarily drops at the thought of him putting it back on. Instead you hear the slightest thunk- he set it down on the floor?

It’s proceeded by another- a gentler thud- the sound of his knees coming down to the floor. You breathe in deeply when his palms come to rest on your knees, gently pushing them apart. You place your own hands on the edges of the container for balance. He runs his hands up your thighs until he meets the hem of his shirt.

“As much as I love seeing you in my shirt, right now, it’s gotta go.”

You smile a little.

“Yeah, well...I’d prefer not to complain, but your ship could really use a towel or two.”

“Noted.” he says, lifting the shirt up and over your head. It slides off easily, your still wet hair leaving tiny rivulets of water that drip down your bare chest.

“Lay back for me.”

“Here?”

“Right here.”

You do as he asks, cautiously leaning back until your head comes to rest on the top of the container, your hands still tightly gripping the sides.

“I’m craving your taste.”

He sets his mouth to the inside of your thigh, trailing light kisses as he moves upward. The anticipation of him reaching his destination has you licking your own lips, rolling your hips as if to attract his mouth.

“Greedy girl.”

He surprises you by making contact with his fingers first. He glides his thumb over the wetness already present, spreading it in soft circles over your flesh. He dips his thumb in further, breaching your entrance.

“So fucking tight.”

You let out a soft whimper in return.

His fingers disappear and you can just make out the sound of soft sucking noises. Licking his fingers.

You cry out with an “Ohhh,” when he returns with his tongue. You begin to undulate your hips, rocking into his tongue as one of his hands attempts to pin your waist. The other you realize by sound, is busy stroking his cock.

Maker, I want to see that.

To picture him stroking himself as he eats your pussy...it stirs an ache deep within- an ache that wants to be fulfilled.

He begins to slash deft strokes across your clit, alternating those lashes with gentle sucking.

“Ahhh, so fucking good, don’t stop.”

“There’s nothing that could stop me..”

When he adds two fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of your soaking pussy, there’s nothing you can do to prevent your orgasm. You release your grip on the container and thread your fingers into his wet hair.

“Din, I’m ...I’m cu...cumming.”

You spasm your way through the orgasm, likely smothering his face into your wet heat as you do. The only indication you didn’t drown the poor man is when he finally speaks.

“Stars, woman, everything about you is so fucking right, your smell, your taste…”

“Mmm,” you murmur in response.

“And I’ll want to hear you scream my name like that every time I make you cum.”

Every time? The implication that there will be many more to come.

He gets off of his knees, coming to stand between the v of your legs and grabs your hips, his fingers digging in.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes, I want you.”

“How do you want me?” His voice is so sexy, low and throaty, yearning- as he runs his cockhead up and down your slit, painting it with your slick.

“Want you inside me, now...please.”

He presses in a few agonizing inches at a time. It feels so fucking good- the way he fills you. He grabs onto your ass, pulling you forward and up to hang off the side of the container. If he wasn’t supporting your weight, your legs would dangle off of the edge. Only your head and upper back now make contact with the surface. You lock your legs around his waist as he begins plunging in and out of your pussy- the sound of his hips smacking your ass echoes off the hull walls- utterly salacious.

He groans with every thrust, more so when you snake your hand down to rub your clit. He quickly brushes your hand away.

“I’ll do that for you.”

You hear the wet sound of his tongue as he spreads moisture over his thumb before bringing it back down to service your clit.

“Feels so ….fu...ck..go.oo..d” The pleasure is so intense you can hardly string together a coherent sentence. Unlike Din, who strikes a direct chord to your pussy with every word he says.

“What else do you want, baby? Tell me what you like.”

What do I want? So, so many things. Want to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel.

“Want your cock...in my mouth.”

“Fuuuck, I want that too. But no way am I giving this up right now.”

You make a small whimper at the denial, but he quickly works to solve the problem.

“Here you go baby, suck on this.”

He slides his thumb over your bottom lip and into your mouth, massaging your tongue with the pad. You flick your tongue around it and begin sucking on it greedily. His fingers are large and you can almost imagine that he is somehow simultaneously fucking your pussy and your mouth at the same time. He responds with a guttural moan, so hot, you almost cum from his reaction. But now, you so badly want to see his face. See his expression, the pleasure written all over- know that this feeling is completely amazing for him too. You squeeze your eyes tighter, fighting off the urge to open them and seize your reward.

But the consequences would be devastating.

You pull his thumb from your mouth. Doubt creeps in as you’re sorely tempted to sneak a peek.

Just want to open my eyes. Didn’t know it would be this hard.

He must sense your pleasure wavering.

“What do you need? Tell me how to get you there.” -your rapture, his only concern.

A distraction, so I don’t open my eyes.

“Your kiss.”

Din lunges forward, driving your back into the container, leaning over you to take your mouth with his own. Your hands fly up to cup his jaw for the frenzied kiss. His face- clean shaven, except for the soft hair above his upper lip.

Is that what he was doing in the fresher? Shaving for me?

You so want to flutter your eyes open, maybe only for a second.

Just want to know his face.

You run your thumb over his freshly shaved cheek. Mistake.

You discover a small indent.

So help me Maker, if this man has a dimple, I’m going to lose my mind.

And suddenly, it’s all too much. You’re overwhelmed by the crushing responsibility he has given you.

You can’t look, you just can’t.

Your hands fly down to his chest, shoving him upward. When he’s no longer crushed against you, you turn your head, crossing both of your forearms over your face to shield your eyes.

He stops moving, his voice now concerned.

“I can’t…..I want to look so badly.”

“You won’t, I know you won’t.”

“What if you’re wrong?! You have to turn off the lights.”

Din scans the room, the light switch and his vambrace at least a dozen paces away. He swiftly pulls out of you- and can a pussy cry? -Because you swear yours is sobbing at the loss.

How badly did I just fuck everything up?

The light doesn’t go out like you expect it to. Instead, you’re flipped over onto your belly, legs dangling behind you over the edge of the container. Din drops to his knees again- returning to devour your pussy from behind, ass up in the air.

Any worries you have about accidentally seeing his face, begin to fade with every sweep of his tongue. When your body is thrumming, shaking with the need to cum again, Din quickly returns, sheathing himself to the hilt with one thrust. You spontaneously cum, your body clamping down hard in reaction. It’s complete fucking bliss. You scream his name, just like he asked, and half a dozen thrusts later he follows you with his own release, filling you up with his hot cum.

You lay there for a moment, sprawled out on the container, Din panting over your sweat slicked back. Eventually he sits up a little, but you’re perfectly content to just lay there like a wet noodle- convinced that if you try to stand up, your legs might give out. When he finally stands up and decides to pull out though, you try. His hand immediately cups your pussy, catching you by surprise.

“I’m sorry,” -he says, looking around- “I don’t have….”

“A towel? I know. Remember? We had this discussion earlier?”

“My shirt…” he offers, and how sweet that he’s trying to clean you up- again.

“No, no it’s ok.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He removes his hand and stands back. You can’t say for sure with your eyes closed, but you get the distinct impression that he stands back and watches as his spill begins to slowly run down the inside of your leg.

“Help me find the bed?” you say, holding out your hand for assistance.

He ignores your hand and swoops you up in his arms instead, delivering you to the floor bed in a few strides. You snuggle down under the blanket, nearest to the wall- leaving enough room for him if he wants to join you. You face the wall, giving him your back while he makes his decision. Your heart pangs when he climbs under the covers beside you, causing the last of your bricks to come crumbling down.

I am so done for.

He hits a button on his datapad, turning out the lights and pulls you over into the crook of his arm. With the lights out, it’s nearly pitch black, and you’re finally free to face him without fear of ruining everything. You lay in peaceful silence, his hand holding yours over his chest. Just as you’re about to fall asleep, he whispers something low and unexpected.

“Did you do something...to me?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper back sleepily.

“My scars,” he says, “every single one I’ve ever gotten- even the ones I got as a kid….they’re all...gone.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

Notes: Wondering what Mando said to the guy before kicking him over the edge of the platform? : "Enjoy the ride down."

Mando'a translation: ner atin girl = my stubborn girl

- Only when the helmet is off, will she refer to him as Din.

Taglist: @mandosmistress, @spideysimpossiblegirl,

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian smut #mandalorian x female oc #din djarin #mando #din djarin x female oc #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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katieraven · 3 years

Text

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

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satendou · 3 years

Text

⟼ shirabu kenjirou

⍣ cockwarming mini series | previous: yaku | next: atsumu | 6/?

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: shirabu/reader

⇢ au: aged up!au

⇢ summary: shirabu has been working way too hard

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: cockwarming, tired, kinda mean kinda soft shirabu

⇢ word count: 1985

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: i needed soft shirabu dammit

shirabu nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the knock on his office door, too focused on the stack of files in front of him. his anger spiked immediately because of it, combined with the fact that he had explicitly told his staff not to disturb him.

“someone had better be bleeding out in the lobby,” he snarled under his breath, before snapping out a louder, “what?”

the door opened slowly, and shirabu didn’t even have to try and maintain the waspish look on his face-- it was permanently ingrained there.

it only softened a fraction when you were finally revealed on the other side, looking flustered and nervous with a container in your hands.

“sorry, ‘jirou,” you murmured, digging the toe of your shoe into the tiled floor. “i know you’re busy but i-- figured you might be hungry.”

as if on cue, his stomach growled, spiking his ire even higher as his cheeks flushed. rushing up to his desk, you placed the container out of the way and turned back, no doubt eager to get away before he laid into you for interrupting him.

“_____,” he called, forcing his voice to gentle, watching your shoulders tense as you paused in the doorway. “come back.”

tentatively, you turned to face him again, wrapping your hand around your upper arm and scurrying back to stand in front of his desk. his chair creaked when he pushed away from his desk, beckoning you to come around and stand in front of him.

taking your hand, he put his lips to your knuckles, looking up at you through his lashes. “thank you.”

he could see the way you hesitated before nodding, now fidgeting with the hem of the skirt you wore. you looked oddly flustered, almost sad, and he suspected you were on the verge of tears. it wasn’t surprising, given he had hardly seen you in the last few weeks, and then he greets you like that when you were just trying to help.

a combination of new patients, two nurses going on maternity leave, and a doctor recovering from a surgery had left shirabu short staffed, leaving him to pick up extra work that he couldn’t pass off to the rest of the staff. they were just as tired as he was, he knew.

“i’ve missed you,” he breathed, partly in contentment and partly in exhaustion. your presence alone soothed him, made him realize just how much he had missed you. he laid another kiss on your knuckles before letting go, instead pulling you down into his lap.

the desk chair creaked beneath your combined weight as shirabu rolled it forward again, causing you to latch onto him. he heard a breathless giggle from you and smiled, picking up his pen once again.

“what’re you working on, anyway?” you asked quietly, and he could still hear the note of anxiety in your voice, like you were afraid he would get angry at your question.

blowing up into his bangs, he said, “patient paperwork, ordering supplies, inventory, just...anything and everything, really.”

humming, you squirmed around to look at the file he was currently scribbling on, hooking your legs outside of his for balance. “i don’t understand a word of this.”

shirabu laughed at that, a naturally condescending noise that caused you to giggle in response. “of course you don’t. hell, i barely understand it at the moment. don’t tell anyone, though.”

“‘course not,” you whispered, craning your neck around to look at him.

the action exposed the column of your throat, smooth skin stretched taut, and he suddenly wondered how long it had been since it was covered in his marks. a sudden urge to sink his teeth into it, to leave a trail of kisses down your neck before pulling your shirt to the side so he could continue down your shoulder, surged through him. his cock instantly twitched to life and he looked down, glaring as if to say, “oh no you don’t.”

it was a mistake, though, as he realized how you were splayed open for him-- and completely oblivious to the way you were pressed against his crotch.

had it really been so long he couldn’t even control his urges? he got his answer when you shifted just slightly, unintentionally grinding back into him.

he let loose a breathy moan, cock fully hard now, fingers digging into your hip.

“don’t,” he growled, causing you to freeze. surprise flickered in your eyes, waiting to see what he wanted you to do. “i have work to finish.”

“sorry, ‘jirou,” you murmured, muscles still tense in fear of making a wrong move. “do you-- want me to get up?”

he knew he should tell you yes, that you needed to go because you were distracting him, but the thought of you walking out that door and leaving him like this pissed him off. “no. stand up and take your panties off.”

“w-wait, what?” you asked, even as he forced you up. a part of you wanted to turn around and watch him take his hard cock out of his slacks upon hearing his zipper being pulled down, but the smarter part of you did as told. you didn’t want to piss him off-- this time-- for fear he would stop entirely. “‘jirou, don’t you have work?”

“yes, but why don’t you shut up and let me worry about it?” he snapped, yanking you right back down into his lap. he hissed into your ear when your soaked slit landed right atop his aching cock, smearing slick all over it when he forced your hips to roll back and forth. “goddammit, why are you so distracting?”

he reveled in the way that, even after all this time, he still had just as much of an effect on you as you did on him. he couldn’t get his head around the way the two of you were so wrapped up in each other, never a doubt about your relationship coming from either of you.

“i-- i don’t understand,” you whined, bracing your hands on his desk and letting him move you as he wanted. he was far stronger than you anyway, even if you wanted to fight. “i didn’t mean to.”

“of course you didn’t,” he said, lifting you up just slightly and letting the tip of his cock catch inside you. “you never do, don’t even know you do it. that just makes it worse.”

there were times he wondered if you weren’t almost scared of him, when you would cower from his angry words and spiteful tone. surely you needed someone who was softer, less prone to irritation and fury, who could treat you with the gentleness he swore you needed.

yet you stuck around, taking care of him even if he didn’t always appreciate it the way he should, snapping at you to go away instead of thanking you for the fresh cup of coffee or dinner you had brought. he would always sigh when you flinched, blinking back the tears glittering in your eyes before caving, issuing an apology and a thank you before letting you crawl into his arms.

he hissed as he sunk into you, forcing your soft cunt to part around him, listening to your small whimpers of, “too fast, ‘jirou. slow down, please.”

“no, princess. you did this, so you take it all,” he snapped, sounding breathless. his head was spinning at the way your walls fluttered around him, slick dripping down his balls onto the soft, expensive leather of the chair. the fingers of the hand not clamped down on your hip wound into your hair, pulling you back until you were leaning against his chest. “now, sit still or you’ll regret it.”

breathing out a sigh of relief-- even if his cock was throbbing and his hips were twitching to fuck up into you-- he picked his pen up again, starting to scribble on the file before him. your tight cunt clenching around him felt too good to be real, soft whimpers filling his ears as you struggled to hold still. your hips still swivelled minutely, swirling his cock around inside the mess of your pussy, but he studiously ignored it.

your thighs were tensed on the outside of his, feet hooked behind his calves beneath the desk, spreading yourself wide for him.

“settle down,” he hissed, gripping and squeezing your thigh harshly. “don’t look like you’re sitting on my cock. what if someone comes in?”

you whimpered but relaxed against him, breathing coming in short pants as you fought to compose yourself. “s-sorry, ‘jirou. feels too good.”

“i know, princess,” he whispered into your hair, leaving a kiss there. his hand left your hip to rest on your thigh, squeezing once. “i’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

the rapid beat of your heart slowly settled, feet finally falling from behind his calves, and both of you breathed a sigh of relief.

looking down at the paper in front of him again, you pointed at the diagnosis. “what exactly is mono?”

somehow, explaining it to you helped him to focus, even as you pulsed around him and dripped down his balls. you still tensed up every time you shifted, breath hitching quietly until you settled down again. the next dozen files went something like that, with you asking inane questions that shirabu didn’t even have to think about to answer, words occasionally sprinkled with hisses when you tightened around him.

after a while, your hips started to hurt, and shirabu paused as you gingerly pulled one leg between his.

he inhaled sharply, choking on a curse when the other followed, squeezing his cock in the vice that was your cunt.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he snarled, letting his head fall to rest between your shoulder blades. he almost snapped his pen in two, the hand on your thigh squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. he pulled you down harder, nudging his tip right up over the sensitive spot inside and against your cervix, causing you to convulse around him. “so fuckin’ tight.”

it took him a moment to reign in the urge to bend you over his desk and fuck you ontop of his patient files, hand clenching and unclenching on the newly forming handprint on your skin. his breathing was heavy when he pulled back, the hand with the pen in it trembling and white knuckled.

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” you chanted, hand locked around his wrist, face twisted in pain and pleasure. your voice was high pitched and breathless, nails digging into the armrest as you fought to hold still at the sudden surge of pleasure. “sorry, ‘jirou.”

“if you do that again,” he bit out, dropping the pen in favor of wrapping his fingers around your throat, “everyone still in this office will know what a little slut you are for me, understand?”

you nodded as best you could, heart racing hard enough to make your head spin even though what he was promising didn’t sound so bad. if you weren’t afraid of what he would do to you when you got home, you might even have tested it, but you wanted to come tonight.

shirabu was nothing if not cruel when you disobeyed him, and it had been far too long since he’d had the energy to touch you.

his lips found your cheek, the kiss gentle in comparison to his waspish words and erratic breathing. you could feel his heart thumping against your back, biting back a smile at the knowledge that you affected him like that.

“let me get this stack done, then we can go home,” shirabu murmured into your ear, tone suddenly sweet and tired. “if you behave, you’ll have your reward.”

“okay, ‘jirou. i will, promise,” you whispered back, turning your head to nuzzle against his neck.

you couldn’t wait to get home.

⇥ masterlist

⍣ cockwarming mini series | previous: yaku | next: atsumu

#shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjirou x reader #kenjirou shirabu x reader #haikyuu x reader #.cockwarming series

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scorsoneamelia · 3 years

Note

I like the way you write II wanted to ask if you could write a story where there is a shooting and link is shot

thank you so much :’) i like this idea a lot!!

this is gonna be a big one sorry it took me a while to write because it’s heavy lol

yall are gonna hate me for ending this the way i did lol

tw: shooting

The thing about life is that you never know what to expect, everyday you live life never knowing how the day is going to end. Some like the idea of never knowing, some think it makes life more meaningful while some people sit on the edge full of anxiety because they need to know when their last breath will be. It’s like how some will take a test to tell them if they have the cancer gene, the Alzheimer’s gene, a disease, etc., and some will refuse to know because they’d rather not know than always expect the worst.

Death is so familiar to Amelia, she’s seen her own father fall to his death right in front of her, even though she might not remember it as well as her brother did, the trauma still impacted her. Rolling over to notice that her boyfriend’s heart was no longer beating and his body was ice cold, her brother getting ripped out of her life too soon; it’s all familiar to her. You’d think this is what she’d be used to, the worst case scenarios but nobody really is ever used to hear the worst news of your life, no matter how familiar it may be.

They had just been leaving from a dinner with Link’s parents, and although neither have them have spoken or seen much of one another since the afternoon on the beach; since the proposal, it was quiet. The only time they’ve communicated lately is for the sake of their son, who was currently being watched by Meredith. Link told his parents they’d both be there because it was ‘easier’ than explaining the alternative. Dinner was fine, the least amount of awkward it could have been, both of them putting on a smile and an act which was easy for the two of them since they acted like a perfectly happy married couple for her sisters before. This was easy.

Link parked the car in front of a gas station, a small one along the outskirts of the city because he needed gas and a snack, even though he just ate. Neither of them said much to one another besides, “Be right back.” which came from Link and he was already exiting the vehicle.

Amelia hadn’t said much to Link directly since he picked her up, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was and whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t care to listen and she knew that. He was hurt; and he was upset and even though she had her own reasons and feelings, hers weren’t important because Link was hurt.

Her finger was tapping down onto her contact list to find Meredith’s number, a heads up that they might be a little big longer than expected cause the drive home will be a long one. Her attention was diverted away because there was a loud noise; an explosion sound and there was screams immediately followed after. Civilians were running down the street, people jumping into their cars to speed away, the sound of their rubber tires squealing against the pavement along with screams; terrified screams. A young girl ran out of the gas station, blood soaking her pant leg from the knee down and she was crying, her hands were trembling and she was dialling 911 on her phone.

The gas station, the realization came and a wave of panic hit her, her heart pounding against her chest and now her hands were shaking. A man was running to the bleeding girls side, putting pressure on her leg while she cried out. Quickly, Amelia pushed open the passenger door and the screams were even louder. “He has a gun!”

It only took a few moments before Amelia was throwing the gas station door open, knowing damn well that if there really was someone with a gun in there that she’d be risking her life. But there was something that was making her go in there, she wasn’t thinking and her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out, and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t keep them still. Just as she expected, a white man with dark brown hair had the man who worked behind the counter at the gas station at gun point. His finger hovering over the trigger and his knuckles white, the innocent man had his hands raised in the air. The man had a black cotton mask covering his face so you could only see his hazel eyes, a backpack secured to his shoulder.

There was a chime when Amelia opened the door, attention being drawn to her and immediately her hands were raised into the air, her breath being caught in her throat. “Don’t move, or I shoot.” The guy wasn’t facing her yet, but his eyes were burning into her. This was all too familiar, way too familiar. A man being held at gunpoint that worked at a gas station, her being in the same building and her hands trembling.

“Amelia,” Link had been hiding behind a corner and he came out to expose himself, the gunman turning his attention to Link and pointing it directly at him, only causing him to raise his hands as well. “Sir, please, don’t do this.”

Now that the shooter had his back towards the clerk behind the counter and his gun facing Link, he slowly reached for the cellphone to dial all emergency vehicles. Amelia didn’t move, she was frozen in place and her hands were still raised in the air and she was breathing deeply and slowly because she was about to have a panic attack. “One step and I shoot!” The man yelled, his voice was deep and it sent a chill down Amelia’s spine.

“Link,” Amelia choked out, her voice thick with terror and there were tears trying to escape her eyes. “Link.” She said again, a cry coming out through her throat.

“Shut up!” The man yelled even louder, stepping closer to Link, his grip tightening around the gun. “I will shoot every single one of you.” There was no doubt this man would, there was a look in his eyes, a look that would terrify anyone.

There was sirens off in the distance, meaning someone had already called because the innocent man behind the counter couldn’t hold the phone still by how much his hands were shaking. The gun man heard the sirens, his eyes looking over at her as if she called them. “This pretty boy your boyfriend?”

“Uh,—“ was she supposed to lie in this type of situation? “Yes—, yes he’s my boyfriend.” Her breath was caught in her throat, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her throat was closing in on her.

“That’s too bad,” the guy laughed. His laugh was evil, the type of evil that made your stomach turn. A group of police cars rolled up at the front of the building, sirens and lights on and police men and women were surrounding the building within seconds. “Fuck!” He was yelling now, a frustrated hand running through his hair and he was bringing the gun down away from Link’s chest. Link thought it was enough time for him to make a run for it, ducking down and trying to make it to the front door.

There was a ringing in her ears after the gun was drawn and the man’s finger pushed down onto the trigger, the bullet embedding into Link’s rib cage, blood wetting his white coloured shirt. She stopped breathing, it getting stuck at the bottom of her throat and her chest was tight. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body, she could hear it in her ears and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe and her chest was closing in. Her vision was blurry, black auras surrounding her eyes, and she was lightheaded, so dizzy she might fall over and it felt like her knees were about to buckle.

The door behind her was thrown open and the chime went off throughout the store, her ears still ringing and she could barely hear anything. “Hands in the air!” The police were inside now, all guns drawn to the suspect. “Drop the gun!”

She still stood there, losing her balance and grabbing onto one of the counter tops behind her. Link was laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his side and he was coughing, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand was reaching down and covering the injury with his palm, trying to put pressure on his own wound. Amelia couldn’t move, her legs were giving out and her entire body was shaking.

She stood there for a few more moments, as the gun man tried to escape, running to the back of the store and one police man was talking to the man who worked at the station and another was standing over Link, calling for emergency back-up.

“Sir,” the police woman was kneeling next to Link, addressing the injury. “Can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, the ambulance is on their way.” Link was groaning and you could hear his pain.

“Oh my god,-“ Amelia finally snapped out of it, running over to Link’s side, placing both of her hands on top of his ribcage putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Link, oh my god.” She was stumbling over her own words, panic arising.

“Stay— Stay with me! You’re not dying, stay awake!” She was yelling, completely terrified, you could hear it in her voice and you could hear her crying. “Link, I love you so much, okay? I love you, I’m sorry...” She was in hysterics, you could make an ocean by the amount of tears that were streaming down her face.

Her hands were covered in blood, and she was continuing to hold pressure. “Stay with me, Link, don’t close your eyes. Don’t-“ she choked on her own years. “Don’t leave me too.”

Link was coughing even more now, she could see spots of blood in his mouth and his eyes were fluttering shut, so much pain written all over his face. “No, no, no!! No!!” Amelia was yelling even louder now, a police officer having to step in and try and comfort her. “You’re not leaving me too! No! Link! I love you, I love you!”

“Ma’am,” the police officer said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me!” Amelia snapped, one of her hands reaching up to his throat and she could feel a pulse, it was faint and weak but it was there.

“His pulse is weak, we’re not losing him! I am not letting you guys lose him.” Her hands were moving to the centre of his chest now, and she was doing CPR, because she needed him alive.

“I can’t do it without him, I won’t- I won’t survive this.” She wasn’t lying. She will not survive this. She can’t lose another person that she loves, especially to a gunshot.

The police officer had the audacity to try and pull Amelia off while her bloody hands where pushing down on the middle of his chest, trying her best to keep him alive. “No!” Amelia screamed, using one of her hands quickly to shove the police officer away.

“No! He’s dying, what are you doing?!” Ignoring the police, she continued giving Link CPR, also ripping her jacket off to put it against his wound. “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.”

She was sobbing, her entire body taken over with cries and shakes. There was still ringing in her ears and she was trying to slow her breathing so that she wouldn’t have a panic attack. There was so much blood, it was pooling on the floor and his white shirt was almost completely dark red and Amelia’s hands and wrists were coloured. She’s a doctor, a damn surgeon, she should be used to the sight of blood but there was so much. She could hear the sirens off in the distance meaning an ambulance was coming, he might be okay. She hopes he’ll be okay, she’s praying. Link’s eyelashes were slowly opening and then slowly closing, his hand weakly reaching for Amelia’s that was moving up and down on his chest. A weak cough escaped his lungs. “Please-“ She cried out, there was blood on her own shirt now.

A team of paramedics and a gurney was next to Amelia, and they were taking over and instead of leaving them to do their job, she leaned over and grabbed Link’s face in her hands. “I can’t do this without you, Link, I love you.”

The paramedics where then lifting him onto a gurney, a mask put over his face while one of the paramedics pumped it, giving him some oxygen. She grabbed his hand, hers shaking in his and his was weak, but his fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. They were rushing him into the back of the ambulance, and she followed, sitting down beside him in the van while paramedics worked to keep him alive.

“I’m in love with you,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. “Oh my god, I’m in love with you. Please god, I need him to live.” She was praying, begging, she needed him.

The ambulance was already making their way to the hospital, Grey Sloan being the closest. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and there was still tears spilling out of her face, and her other hand was running through his hair softly. “You’re going to be okay.”

————————

The doors of the ambulance flew open and the paramedic jumped out, pulling the gurney out with her. “GSW to the chest, pulse is there but it’s weak.” Owen Hunt, head of trauma was the one who was there to treat him, followed by her sister, head of cardio, Maggie Pierce.

“Oh my god.” Maggie said softly, stopping in her tracks for a brief moment to focus on what she was looking at. Link in a gurney, covered in blood, and Amelia was also covered, stepping down from the ambulance. She was concerned, very worried, and confused why her sister was covered in blood. “What happened?”

“Crazy gunman,” Amelia’s voice was so soft that Maggie could barely here her. Her eyes were puffy and it was obvious that she hadn’t stopped crying. “There was a robbery at the gas station and he shot him.” She broke down in tears again, falling to the ground. “He shot him, Maggie. I saw it happen, I saw-“

Maggie kneeled down in front of her while Owen rushed Link inside the hospital to bring him into a trauma room. “Hey,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

“Please-“ she choked out. “Please make sure he’s okay.”

While she stood outside the window of the ER room, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. The doctors working on Link were moving slowly, in her mind, and they were assessing the situation, their stress levels through the roof. Amelia’s hands were still shaking and she was covered in blood, if nobody knew what happened they’d think she was the one who was hurt.

“He’s crashing!” Maggie yelled, immediately moving to his chest to start compressions. “I need a crash kart!”

The nurses were running in with a kart with a defibrillator, soon after Maggie reached down for them. “Charge to 300!” She yelled and placed them on both sides of his chest before telling everyone to clear, and then they shocked him.

“No rhythm, charge to 400.” She places the paddles on each side again before the shocked him once more. “C’mon.”

“We have a rhythm!” Maggie yelled, placing the paddles back onto the kart. Amelia let out a sigh of relief before Bailey was running over, peering into the trauma room window herself.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Bailey asked, slightly reaching over and touching Amelia’s shoulder for support, but she was numb. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, the world was moving in slow motion around her. Her mind was all over the place, and she kept feeling dizzy.

“I have to bring him to surgery.” Maggie said, coming around the corner while pulling the gurney with her. “I’m going to do everything I can do.”

“I’m coming with you,” Amelia finally spoke, stepping forward and grabbing onto the gurney. Her pulse was still high, and her mind was still fuzzy.

“You’ll wait in the waiting room like every other family member.” Bailey ordered, which made Amelia’s eyes roll and a huff came out of mouth.

“Please, Bailey.”

“It’s the rules, you know that.” And Amelia gave up, because it was the rules. She would have to wait like everybody else, and try to be patient but she felt like she won’t be able to sit still.

“I’ll give you updates as much as I can.” Maggie brushed her shoulder before they were going through the Authorized Personnel Only sign and she was sliding down the wall. She couldn’t cry anymore, it was like she was out of tears. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall while the blood dried onto her sink. She didn’t want to move, she couldn’t move. The waiting room was too far, she thinks waiting here on the floor is a better idea.

How can something like this happen again? How can she relive something as traumatic as this? Will she even survive this?

#amelink #amelia and link #ameliashepherd #amelia x link #link and amelia #link #atticus link #gresyanatomy #ameliafics #amelinkfics #greysanatomyfics #amelia #ameliaandlink #stories

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allteacher · 3 years

Text

also on ao3

“You haven’t responded to my messages.”

Osiris, leaning against the pillar he’s situated himself by, fiddles with some piece of Vex technology. In the silence, Eris marks the people watching this interaction carefully: Ikora, a Hidden agent she’s never spoken to, a few dregs hiding in the stairway to the Annex. This is her first time in the Tower since the Eliksni have moved into the City, and they seem to be afraid of her.

Everyone in the Tower has been afraid of her. This is only a new cycle of fear bleeding into tenuous acceptance, which the citizens of the City will recognize soon enough.

“I’ve been preoccupied with Quria,” he says, not looking at her. Eris stares at him, because now that he is Lightless her eyes can bear the faint echo of Light, that shadow of the pure burning that used to leave afterimages seared into her sight for minutes at a time. She has said nothing of Sagira, but she knows Osiris is clever enough to understand what her long even look means.

“So have I,” she replies, even though she hasn’t been, has been chasing leads on Savathûn and making careful plans in the case of some terrible eventuality. But their hunts have been so intertwined for years, Hive and Vex and Taken, that her answer is shaped like the truth. With the Witch Queen looming, she will not lie and give Her power.

“Among other things.” He watches her hands, the not-quite-frost that clings to her wrists.

She stamps down on her urge to be petulant, which she has not felt in a very long time. They are both mortal, now, and suddenly Osiris’ imperiousness seems much more like self-defense. Eris, who had retreated into mystery and mysticism after she had made it out of the pit, knows better than most. “As have you.” She tires abruptly of this pointed insinuation. “Come. We are going to the Dreaming City.”

That shakes a startle from him, and Eris finds herself quietly pleased. “You don’t need accompanying,” he says. It is not a reassurance of Eris’ autonomy, which even now is questioned— especially now, with Stasis’ just-carved path across Europa. It is, instead, a question.

Eris hums, says, “I don’t.” She considers all the things she could tell him, if she was anyone else. But she is not, and it is no use to pretend an open wound is closed.

In the days after Sagira, Ikora had come to the Moon with a stack of Hidden reports and a thermos of tea. “This is going to sound ridiculous,” she’d warned, “but do you think it would be useful, if you spoke with him?”

“No,” Eris had said, and Ikora had laughed at the suddenness, and they had drank tea and discussed what needed to be done. After she’d left, Eris had considered the idea more deeply, found she had no advice to give. She had emerged from the Hellmouth and thrown herself into her vengeance with a single-minded fury that still smoldered in the back of her head, some days. Any peace she had now was achieved only after her frenzy, planning and killing and, finally, sorting through the twisted ghosts of the Pyramid. Clarity in action.

Eris stands in the silence. There was, then, at least one thing she could offer. Eventually, she tells him, “Quria is dead. The Ascendant Realm is changed. The plan moves ever forward.” It is as close to an invitation as she can manage.

She turns to leave, can feel Ikora’s eyes on her back. Osiris follows.

—

“You know what I plan to do,” Osiris says, looking up at the blights eating holes in reality.

Eris does, because she has done the same thing a million times. “It is unwise.” It is, because it had been every time she’d done it. That does not make it less necessary.

Osiris snorts. “When have we been wise?”

“Less and less often.” She watches a thrall scuttle in the grass.

Petra greets them warmly, gives them two bottles of Queensfoil and a long-bladed knife. There has been no word from Mara, which Eris expects. There are events happening beyond their comprehension, now, and they will only know them by their effects.

“Hopefully that thing’s death will break the curse,” Petra says. She looks different than she had, that first meeting with Mara— a creature befitting the Dreaming City’s wonder, the horror lingering underneath. “I’d like to get out of the past.”

Eris thinks of the Moon. “Yes,” Osiris says, and she can feel the agreement in it.

There is a portal close by, and when they enter the Ascendant Realm they find themselves on a bleak outcropping overlooking the howling void. There has been no immense upheaval, but something in the air has changed.

She is acutely aware of something watching them as they sort through the wreckage of the realm, not searching as much as they are enacting the motions of it, playing the role they are expected to play. They are silent as they move, because words have power beyond creation in the plane, under the Witch’s gaze.

“The existing Taken are being conserved, somewhere,” Eris says when they emerge into the unchanged dawn-dusk of the Dreaming City. There had been none to fight through, only the howling wind and the cold of complete desolation.

“Which suggests that Quria has died a true death, or is hiding deeply enough that She cannot afford to Take anything new.”

It is not a grand revelation, but Eris feels more secure in having achieved something, that this fragile gesture of understanding has not dissolved into smoke like some small part of her had feared.

“Two gods dead in their thrones,” Eris says. “There will yet be another.”

“And another,” Osiris says, and Eris knows that desire burning in his stomach to drive a blade through Xivu Arath’s heart, the same blinding need she had felt when Crota still haunted Luna.

“In time.” Eris knows what she came here for. Directness is her strength, when her enemy wields secrecy like a hidden blade. She knows the need to die in service to a greater cause, the lengths they have both gone to do so. What that can mean. “Will you be there to see it?”

“You did not expect to live this long.” She had said as much when they had met with the Queen, when she was still expecting to be killed long before she could ever feel whole again. But his remembering of it, the fact that she exists in someone’s mind as something beyond utterly inscrutable, stings in a way she thought she was past.

She takes a breath. “You… assisted me. In ways that I did not explain, during the hunt for Crota.” It is not an admission of failure, and she works to make it not feel like one, either. “There are things that cannot be achieved alone, even if we desire otherwise.” There are things that can only be done alone, but she does not say this because they both already know it.

Osiris crosses his arms. An intentional provocation, the kind that got him exiled. “I’m still going.”

“I do not intend to stop you.” Eris has an almost overwhelming appreciation for Ikora’s patience, watching him; she knows now what it was like to take her own hands and lead her gently into the light, years ago. She has none of that gentleness, but maybe that is a good thing, here. “But do not forget who your allies are. What they will do.” She thinks of Saint, the long line of his ship burning in the atmosphere as he went to die on Mercury.

As if met by the same image, Osiris turns to head back to the ship, silent. Eris, unused to existing on this side of such confrontations, lets herself be relieved. She does not know if she has said anything worthwhile, but she feels lighter for having said it. They are coming upon the end of something immense, now, and she does not know where the future will take her. If she will have such a chance again.

They walk in silence for several minutes, the iridescent insects of Mara’s dreamscape glimmering in the long grass. “I never expected you to fret,” he says finally, voice wry.

“I am not fretting,” she hisses. This feels like camaraderie, which makes her think of the Tree, the paranoia of spies lurking in the middle distance. But that is what She wants, so she says instead, “you are too stubborn for anything else.”

Osiris laughs at her, or maybe at himself. “And yet here we are.”

During the long slow journey back to the City, Eris thinks of everything she could say if she was used to the telling, if she had not been so utterly confined in her own mind for so long that even such a simple admission as today had left her feeling exposed. How Sagira and Brya had died the same death on the Moon, left the same guilt behind.

She thinks about Osiris following her down to the Shrine, following her here. Tacit acknowledgement turned to understanding. She has trusted Osiris to fill in the spaces she’s left out, to understand without her having to explain. This is what she likes about him, though she will never tell him. Some things she will never have words for.

In the dim grey-green light of her ship, Eris hands him the knife Petra had given her. “The Queen is expecting you,” she says, and they both know who she means.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #it is done!#i made it five years without a tmg lyric as a title but finally that day has come

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Absence Makes the Heart

04/17/2020

Pairing: Superman x Reader Word Count: 5,431

Warnings: language, lots of language, violence, blood, wounds, injuries, plenty of angst

DCEU Canon

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this one down for a while. It’s based on a dream I had but I just went and added details and a little bit of backstory. Nothing too crazy. This will probably just be a one shot. The top half is heavily edited while the second half I just spat out because I was inspired and I went with it. Hopefully it’s good. This is my first foray into something other than Marvel, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Edit: I forgot to thank @babiiface95 @evansweaters and @sherrybaby14 for giving me some feedback on this! It helped tons!! xoxo

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

In this moment, all you can feel is the pain in your side.

You stumble forward, hitting the chestnut wood of your door hard. With nothing to brace yourself on, you slide along the length of it until you’re sitting, shoulder pressed against it.

“Ugh…” You groan, letting your hand trace the smooth grain until it can latch onto the handle. “Fuck this shit. I quit.”

You tell no one.

There hasn’t been anyone for months.

The door gives as you twist the knob sending you falling onto the small foyer of your apartment. You’re on the top floor, beside the penthouse. Your own place is small. Compact. Just three rooms, four if you count your bathroom.

You pull yourself along the dated ceramic tile and watch as you leave a smear of red behind you.

“Honey…” You begin, kicking the door shut while you stay flattered against the floor. “…I’m home.”

No one responds.

You exhale through your nose as annoyance rips through your chest.

“Fucker.” You say at no one, but obviously someone.

It takes every ounce of strength you have left to haul yourself into your bathroom. You peel off your suit, letting it drop to the floor in a whip of heavy fabric, space quality tech that was not fashioned on Earth but created for you.

To protect you.

Because he said he cared.

“Fucking…fucker.” You huff, yanking the first aid kit from the open shelf beneath your sink.

Your sports bra is drenched in sweat and blood, sticky against your skin as you plop yourself at the small kitchen table. You pull open the kit and reach for needle and thread.

It’s a messy stitch, clumsy and crooked from the angle you’re forced to work in. However sloppy, you do seal the wound to your ribs and the bleeding finally stops.

In your blood-soaked underwear, you make yourself a sandwich and stand at your counter, staring at the primary blue coffee cup sitting beside your own in teal.

You chew loudly, smacking your mouth as the bread sticks to the roof of your mouth. Eyes glaring at the cup, you bite down more fiercely. Tearing the food apart angrily.

“You’re a stupid bitch, Y/N. Get over it.” You sigh, then retreat to your bathroom to tidy up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Exhaustion is not your friend. It makes you cranky and irritable and sad because you can’t stand the silence in your home.

You groan, pressing your hand against your side gently, then reach for the remote and turn on the TV to war the silence.

It’s a cacophony of sound and for a moment, it grates your nerves. Some cartoon, loud and full of slapstick.

Next channel has people screaming at each other from opposite sides of a stage. Chairs begin to get thrown. A guy with a mullet takes off his shoe and chucks it at a man with one ear.

Next channel has an old black and white movie. The pretty woman with dark curls and a heart shaped face leans across a table, chin in her hand as she moons over the composed man who is smirking at her casually.

Nope. You think. No romance.

Next channel is the news.

“-sure what to make of what we’re seeing. It’s like nothing we have witnessed before. Veronica, can you tell us what’s happening?” The news anchor presses his hand to his ear, eyes squinted as he stares ahead.

The screen shifts and Veronica—a pretty woman with flowing red hair and deep blue eyes fills your screen.

“Miguel, it looks as if all of the ocean’s water is being pulled away from our coastline and out towards the ocean. Where the water is going, we aren’t sure. There is no way to know what this means or what can be causing it. And although we’ve seen this phenomenon happen in films, doomsday blockbusters where a tidal wave the height of a skyscraper builds up before the subsequent flood, experts are sure this is not at all what’s going on.

There are dozens of meteorologists, marine biologists, oceanographers, and astronomers still searching for the cause. The only thing that they all can agree on for certain is that the oceans are not withdrawing, but rather, they are draining, leaving sea life, coral reefs, and the ocean floor exposed.

“Something is pulling this water away. Whatever is causing this, is not natural.”

Sitting up, you place your elbows on your knees as the video changes to that of a helicopter shot as it circles the ever-decreasing ocean line. A humpback whale and her calf attempt to outswim the retreat, but they fail and as the water falls away, the creatures are beached between two sheer ocean cliffs.

“What the hell…” Reaching up, you cover your mouth, watching as the video moves back to Veronica.

“If we can’t figure out why the ocean is draining, we will have hundreds if not thousands of species left without chance of survival. This is not only a loss of a life for many endangered species, but also leaves us to face the consequences within our fishing industries and the millions of people it not only feeds but employs as well. If we cannot stop-”

Veronica suddenly stops speaking, holding her hand to her ear as she listens for a moment.

“Sorry, Miguel, it looks as if Doctor Rashda has found a source point for the draining. Doctor Rashda can you hear me?” Veronica asks, waiting for a moment before the video splits vertically.

The second frame of video sits empty, a sloping sandbank visible in the distance. It curves around in a semi-circle at the center of which is a growing swirl of dark blue water.

“Doctor Rashda?” Veronica asks again, her eyes frantic as they search a monitor out of view.

“Surrender.” A voice says, high pitched. Female. “Surrender and you will not suffer. Surrender your planet, and I shall make your end quick.”

Veronica is silent as the column of swirling water parts a little, just enough so that a pale face is visible.

“Surrender.” The voice says again, the pale face’s lips moving as it speaks. “And you will die quickly.”

Frowning, you move to the edge of your seat, your anger doubling.

“M-Miguel are you seeing this?” Veronica asks, voice small with fear.

Miguel doesn’t answer.

The figure in the water holds out its hand and from the swirl comes a smaller sphere. In this sphere something moves. As the camera zooms in, you can make out the distinct shape of a body, thrashing within its bubble.

Veronica screams just as you and everyone else that must be watching realizes that within the bubble is Doctor Rashda, struggling and gasping for breath.

You’re up on your feet, racing to pull your suit back on when a commotion pulls your eyes back to the TV, legs already in but with one shoulder exposed as you freeze mid-dress.

“He’s back!” Veronica is shouting gleefully. Relief and reverence painting her voice. “Superman is back!”

You move two steps closer to the TV, not intending to take the word of a panicked reporter. Until you can lay your own eyes on him then it isn’t real.

A few seconds pass. Then, a blur of blue and red streaks through the center of the bubble and when the water stops rippling, Doctor Rashda isn’t there.

“Motherfucker.”

You pull your suit on roughly, ignoring the way the movement tugs at your side as you zip up and launch out your open window.

You fall fast, plummeting towards the ground in a streak of teal and gray. When you’re only three feet away, you feel a surge of power as your arms, and legs burn with white hot energy.

It pushes you upwards and propels you higher and higher until you’re soaring across the sky at incredible speeds, leaving a silver trail of light behind you.

It only takes you minutes to reach the coast but sometime between you jumping out of your living room window and arriving here by the Golden Gate, the fight has moved cityside.

You hear a deafening crunch as blue and red goes slamming into black, gray, and brown ocean floor, disappearing into the subsequent rubble.

Heart pounding, you propel yourself towards a thin figure, long stringy black hair, sallow skin, arm still stretched out from her hit. She turns to look at you just as you reach her, but you throw your own fist out in a powerful uppercut. It throws the strange woman high into the air.

You follow for a few feet, hovering in there as you watch her skyrocket out of sight into dark clouds overhead.

Behind you the heap of ocean floor rubble begins to shift.

Coming to rest on the cliffside above, six feet below he breaks through the rock and it falls around him, a flurry of fine sediment saturating the air.

Chest heaving, side burning, heart clenched so tight you think it might truly be shredding, you watch as the fucker stands up and does a quick scan of the area looking just as perfect as he did when he left.

His eyes are focused, searching the sky for sight of his attacker but instead he finds you.

His eyes soften and you’re still so angry you glare. You turn on your heel and walk away, staring up at the sky as you wait for the woman to fall.

“Y/N…” You hear him say, but you don’t turn to look at him.

You can feel the swirling of wind as he flies up to you, the soft pats as his feet hit the ground. He circles around your right, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.

In your peripherals you can see the gentle curl of his dark hair, falling along his forehead and a hundred memories of your hand gently sweeping it aside make your body tremble.

The pleasure that the memory brings makes your blood boil and you roll your eyes, ignoring the puppy eyes he gives you.

“Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.” You assert and watch as the strange woman careens towards the two of you, an inhuman screech growing louder as she falls.

Moving forward a few steps you aim yourself, bend your knees and launch yourself up towards her. As you collide, she grabs hold of your shoulders, and the two of you twist and spin in the air, struggling to get the upper hand.

Shifting quickly, you pull her over you, grab hold of her shirt front and with all the force in your body, you spin and chuck her down as Clark flies towards you to finish the job.

~~~~~~~~~~

A tattered white dress is all that remains of the ocean thief.

“Who was she?” Clark wonders, moving to stand beside you as you watch the stain of saltwater grow as her body dissolves to nothing.

“You don’t know?” You ask him, turning to look at him and hating how much it pleases you to finally see him again.

His broad body, thick with muscle and stupidly accentuated by his damn blue skintight suit, feels larger than before he left though you know that’s silly. He’s as God like as ever, though he’s only an alien. To the world, he’s a savior. Invincible.

Superman.

What really hurts to look at are his eyes.

It chokes you, those baby blues, full of unspoken questions and expectation. For you. For the future. For the present. He wants to know you again.

You tear your gaze back down to the woman as Clark shakes his head.

“No. I was flying home when I saw the ocean empty and followed the trail to the spout she was in.” Clark explains.

“Well, it’s too late to find out now.” You point out. “The water will come back soon. You’ll need to make sure people stay away from the coastline.”

Turning towards him, you wait, your rage evened out and layered with betrayal.

That painful gaze of his so piercing it nearly steals your breath away.

“Where were you, Clark?” You ask quietly, your anger outweighing the hurt.

The apologetic look he gives you, the tilt of his head, the step he takes towards you grates your nerves.

“Y/N-”

“It’s been months. Almost a year.” You sigh, unwilling to give in.

He takes your hand and the impulse to pull away nearly overwhelms you.

His hands are rough, only in that masculine way. His skin is unblemished. Perfect.

The strength of his movements are carefully calculated. A natural habit he’s developed after a lifetime of having to be gentle to keep from breaking those he touches. The heat from his hands is familiar and it envelops yours easily.

“I was coming home.” He tells you.

“Home? How do you know that it’s still your home? Maybe someone else has moved in.” You threaten and there’s a visible fall in his eyes.

It nearly breaks your icy exterior. But you have every right to be angry and hurt that he left you. Out of the blue, no word as to where he was going or when he’d come back.

“I have to go.” He’d said, and left you sitting on the couch, wondering when he’d come home.

He looks down at your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

“You went to see her first, didn’t you?” You accuse and he quickly meets your gaze.

“No.” He assures you passionately, moving a little closer. “No, I was going straight home.”

“She’s been looking for you.” You tell him, tempted to confess how useless you’d been in those first few weeks he was gone. “All of them have been. Where is Superman? Is the million-dollar question. And now here you are.”

He’s back just as randomly as he’d left. Just as sudden. Just as quiet.

“There he is!” A familiar voice shouts. On the bank across the large ravine you both stand in Veronica appears looking dazzled and excited, her camera man hoisting up his camera to begin what will be the first clear footage of Superman finally back. Earth’s hero returned.

Quickly you pull your hand from his and turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?” He asks, following for a few steps.

“Home. I’ve been in Australia for the last month dismantling a new crime syndicate with Bruce. He and I are both very tired. He stayed behind.”

“Oh.” Clark says.

“Superman!” Someone calls. “Superman is back!”

Civilians have begun to gather along the empty waterway, all of them eager for a glance at the Man of Steel.

You know how you made it sound and maybe it’s your annoyance making you push him away now that he’s home, but all you can think about is getting back home and being alone.

“The water will be back, Kal.” You shift to his birthname with so many ears nearby. “Get these people away.”

You leave him standing there, watching you fly away, with those baby blues full of quiet yearning.

~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment…your home…it’s a void.

You sit on the arm of your sofa still in full uniform, hand gently resting on your thigh—palm up. You’re a mess again. Dirty with blood and dirt and sweat.

Needing a shower doesn’t do much to deter your silly brooding. Silly because you did this to yourself. You made it seem like you had someone new waiting for you here when really the bleak emptiness is in need of a six-foot, three-inch tall Kryptonian.

His presence is here. Loud and white hot. His coffee cup burns you from across the kitchen—asking where its owner is. His drawer still full of clothes. Comfy sweatshirts and crisp white t-shirts. Blues and grays and reds too.

There’s one you’d set aside. The last he’d worn. Only once. It had sat on the end of your bed night after night until you’d caved and pulled it on. Now it probably smells more like you than him.

The place is silent. Only the drip, drip, drip of the bathroom sink breaks the quiet.

Your gaze wanders to his shoes by the door, shoelaces left undone, a small speck of mud on the side of the left heel.

Shutting them, your eyes water.

No. You shake your head. I won’t cry.

You take a shaky breath and release it slowly, sighing as your body slumps forward.

The movement reminds you of your earlier wound and you gasp in pain as you sit up straight again, leaning to the side to look at the spot growing increasingly wet on your side.

“Shit.” Stitches are probably torn open. “Fuck.”

Maybe it’s your frustration with this whole situation or maybe your wound really just hurts a lot, but as you reach over to feel the bloody spot, your voice finally breaks. Though there are no tears, they really want to fall.

“Fucking, stupid, fucking…” You sigh again, this time faster, angry.

“That’s a lot of French.” Clark says, his voice smooth and even and excruciatingly beautiful to your ears.

You stand up, startled, and spin to watch him pull his left leg in through your open window, following his torso.

He’s still in his suit, cape and all. Once again, the sight of him reminds you of his Godlike status. His perfection unreachable and yet, here he is. In your home. Where he’d given himself to you openly and without reservation.

He stands there, his hands clenched into nervous fists. Skin just as dirty as yours but not sweaty. Not bloody. His hair is a little disheveled. The tresses normally so carefully tempered are free to curl and wave.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice still weak from your raw emotional outburst.

“I went to see Bruce.” He explains, and you might just kick yourself for implying Bruce would be waiting for you. “Why-?”

“Because I wanted to hurt you.” You admit, cutting him off before he can word the question. “Because I wanted you to regret leaving me the way you did.”

“I do regret it.” He sighs. “I-I only left because I thought I heard…”

He hesitates and you’re tempted to kick him out. You turn away from him and move into the kitchen, trying to ignore the wound that needs tending.

With your own coffee cup in hand, you pop a k-cup in your Keurig and punch the power button, waiting for it to power on before you select the largest cup option and listen to the whirr of the motors instead of Clark’s silence.

“I went to Krypton, or what’s left of it.” Clark finally says, this time from the mouth of your kitchen archway, hands still clamped tight.

You shut your eyes tight, hands clinging to the edge of your counter. Squeezing ever tighter until they begin to ache, and you still only keep squeezing.

“I wish I could be as impressed by that answer as I was the first time you told me that.” You shake your head.

“It was different this time, Y/N.” He shakes his head, then takes a step closer.

The movement draws your eyes and you watch the intense focus on his face, the uncertainty to speak.

“What is it?” You ask, still a little bitter.

Even though he looks as if he means it and this trip to Krypton is more serious, he’s not speaking. He’s keeping this from you. Holding it back.

“Jesus fucking Christ Clark, I guess you don’t trust me.”

“No.” He insists, moving another step closer which still leaves him a ways away from you in the kitchen. “It’s not that. I do trust you. More than anyone. But…”

You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to go to hell and to stay away from you and to shove his excuses up his ass, but your curiosity is growing.

There’s a small panic in his baby blue eyes. A fear.

So, you wait. You hold your tongue. You’re patient for now. You give him a familiar silence that tells him you will wait until he’s ready.

He recognizes it and meets your quizzical gaze as your coffee finishes brewing.

You don’t even realize it’s done as you stare into Clark’s eyes and he stares into yours.

The moment he decides, his shoulders relax. His jaw drops a fraction of an inch as he stops clenching his teeth.

As the weight on his shoulders is visibly lifted, you feel yourself relax too. Nearly a year of being without him and you’re still so attuned to his moods.

“I found someone.” He tells you. “On another planet, in a Kryptonian ship that had been sent only days after my own.”

“Another Kryptonian?” You ask, curious but also fearful.

You remember very clearly the last Kyrptonian that had come to Earth. Zod and his minions had torn Metropolis to shreds. They’d killed so many people and Clark had made the hardest decision in his life.

Not that you’d been there. She’d been there. But Clark had let you in on the weight of that moment. The choice that he hated to make but would gladly do so again.

He must see the fear in your eyes because he shakes his head and takes yet another step towards you.

“No. Don’t be scared. Really. She’s-”

She?!

“-she’s harmless.” You frown at him because that’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s said since getting back. Maybe the stupidest thing ever.

“Okay,” He amends. “Maybe not harmless, exactly. She’s my cousin, Y/N. And she needed help.”

“Your cousin?” You ask, voice low and full of questions.

“From what I can tell, she was sent here after me, but when her ship was knocked off course, she was trapped in form of hypersleep for a long time. She was older than me, but now she’s a lot younger.” Clark continues to explain, speaking with some gusto now that you’ve allowed him to pick up some momentum.

“Where is she?” You wonder.

“I left her with a family that can take care of her. Someone that I trust. Far away from me. She’s still very young and I think it would be best if she remained hidden for a while. Just until she learns how to control her abilities here on Earth and to give the world time to get used to the idea of another Kryptonian.” He takes one more step.

“After Zod, I don’t know that there is any amount of time that would prepare the world for a Supergirl.” You frown.

With your defenses lowered, Clark takes the opportunity to step even closer, finally stopping beside you.

He hesitates again, this time as he reaches to take hold of your elbow. His fingers press against your arm gently like he’s stroking piano keys. Testing to see if you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

He lifts your arm a little and doesn’t break eye contact with you until your arm is lifted enough that he can get a clear look at the red on your side. Head tilted to the right as he assess the injury.

Straightening his head, he slides his hand down to your hand, taking it before gently pulling you away from the kitchen, through your bedroom, and into your bathroom, switching on lights as he goes.

Watching him be like this has always been your favorite. He moves with a purpose, eyes trained on what he’s looking for without a glance spared your way.

You stand beside him as he holds your hand, hunched over to look under the sink for your first aid kit.

After he retrieves it, he pulls you back out into the kitchen. There’s more room there for both your bodies, especially with his taking up so much space.

He places the kit on the floor before he pulls you in front of him. Both of his hands find your waist and he lifts you up onto the edge of the counter to sit.

Slightly surprised, you gasp and place your hands on his shoulders, tracing the muscle while you can do so discreetly until you must remove them and place them at your sides.

Clark steps towards you, his hard abdomen pressed up against your legs as he wraps both arms around you, hands searching for the zipper on your back. Leaning over your shoulder to get a look at it, he’s almost hugging you.

And you can’t stand the tease of it.

The movement is quick, and he leans back again once he’s got the suit undone.

“What happened?” He asks as he hooks his thumbs into the top of your suit and pulls it down over your shoulders, your biceps—then holds the arms still as he waits for you to pull them out—then bunches it down along your waist to expose your injured side. “Lift your arm.”

You do as he ass, wincing as it tugs on the reopened cut.

“This is deep.” He disapproves.

“Bruce and I really were in Australia. One of the guys caught me with a knife just as we were getting them rounded up.” You explain.

“This is gonna hurt.” He tells you as he pulls the kit onto the counter beside you and pulls out a pair of small scissors and tweezers.

It takes him almost no time at all to snip away the broken threads and clean the wound again.

He waits, thinking for a moment, then meeting your gaze.

“Do you want something for the pain?” He checks, eyebrows raised in worry.

“Just do it, Clark.” You sigh, frustrated because this is all too familiar. This proximity, the smells, the heat, the way his hands poke and prod at the edges of your cut.

His eyebrows gather together as his jaw flexes with a frown, staring at the cut as he threads the needle quickly.

A proper needle this time, sanitized and threaded properly.

Taking your lifted arm, he pulls it over his head onto the opposite shoulder and places your hand there where his cape meets his suit.

“It’s gonna hurt.” He says again, and you realize he’s giving you something to squeeze.

And he’s right. Without the adrenaline from before, you feel every stitch and you’d thin you would get used to this sensation. But it hurts like fuck all and you squeeze his cape tight until you can’t help but give a small yell in annoyance.

“Why is it always the little wounds that hurt the most?” You sigh as he sips the thread and moves to clean his work area.

“You should go shower.” Clark says as he sanitizes the counter. “Be careful with your stitches.”

You don’t fight him on this because you desperately need another shower. Maybe if you’d been fine, you would have argued, but you’re dirty and aching.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you find that the sky outside has darkened. You dress quickly, just a pair of black old cutoff sweats and one of Clark’s gray hoodies.

You’re absolutely swimming in it, but it’s so soft and comfortable. Loose so that it doesn’t add any pressure to your stitches.

The apartment is so quiet you stand there, pulling the sweatshirt down as you listen intently for any kind of movement.

“Clark?” You call, just a little insecure after months of his absence.

You move out into the living room. The floorboards creak and moan as they settle beneath your feet. The large carpet in your living room silences your steps but you also stop walking, staring at the empty kitchen, then the empty living room.

Had you dreamt him?

Maybe he really isn’t back?

What if you’ve finally gone crazy?

What if he’s never coming back and you’d passed out after you got back from Australia and everything with the ocean had been a dream?

Are you really going nuts?

There’s a soft thud from your bedroom and with eager footsteps you rush back in.

Sitting on his side of the bed with his bare feet planted on the ground, Clark is hunched over. Elbows on his knees. Hands resting relaxed at the wrist while he stares at the floorboard underneath your bedroom window.

“Clark…” You sigh, not realizing how relieved you sound.

He’s changed, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt.

He looks good. Showered. His curls just barely damp.

“Am I welcome here?” He asks, staring ahead.

You move to the bed and climb on, walking on your knees towards him until you stop just a foot away and sit back on your legs.

It’s a good question. One you think on for a moment.

“You didn’t come back for ten months, Clark.” You sigh, hating that fact. “I didn’t know if something had happened to you or maybe you’d decided to leave me and Earth behind altogether? Mostly I just thought you were dead. I spent most of my time convincing myself that you’re so close to invincible that killing you might be impossible but-”

“I’ve died before.” Clark says, hating the idea that people think him a God. He turns towards you and frowns.

His words, however true they may be, send painful clenches into your chest.

Your face does something that makes his demeanor shift. Suddenly he’s sitting beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as he reaches up to push your hair back and away from your face.

His fingers graze the skin of your neck and he hooks it there, squeezing gently.

“I’m not dead.” He says, maybe guessing your thoughts of madness? “I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t.” You shake your head. “And I was so angry at you. I hated you. I cursed your name. Fuck that guy. Stupid fucker. I hate him.”

Clark simply watches you, his eyes moving side to side as he looks at your face and every expression that crosses your features.

The one thing that you’ve always loved about Clark, is the way that you can tell he’s really listening. Not once have you felt as if you weren’t being heard. Even if he doesn’t agree with whatever you’re saying, he listens so intently, trying to understand your point of view before he poses his own.

And you love him for it.

Shit. You still love him. Of course, you do. Of course, he’s always been yours.

Even in his absence, you were his and he was yours.

“I said that almost every night, hoping that you would hear me and come back. But you didn’t.”

“But I did.” Clark says. “I’m here. And I’m sorry I left without explanation. I’m sorry that I put you through that. And I know that you can’t forgive me for it. That I’ll be trying to earn your trust again every day that we’re together. But, please can I stay?”

He rubs your lower back, his large hand sending heat into every inch of your heart. Restarting it after he killed it ten months ago.

“Please?” He begs. “All I’ve thought about is getting back here. To you. To our home and our life together.”

You shut your eyes, relishing in the way his arms feel around you, his hands large and hot. His breath is sweet and warm. His scent is clean and so him that it makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t need that shirt of his anymore. Now you have him back, here with you. Where you can touch and feel and love and laugh and just be with him.

“Or should I leave?” He asks.

Your eyes pop open, red fury raging through them. “You do and I’ll hunt you down, Kent.”

He smiles, softly at first. But when your hand begins to trace the taut sinew of his muscly forearm, his smile grows wider. It grows and grows until it’s blinding and beautiful.

You trace the curve of his shoulder, tickle his neck before reaching up to smooth the curls that fall against his forehead gently.

He shuts his eyes, enjoying the affection before you push yourself forward between his legs and settle on your side.

You cuddle into the center of his chest, tucking yourself between his arms, head on his chest, under his chin, arms grabbing tight to the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I missed you.” He whispers against your hair.

You smile, shutting your eyes as you let yourself finally be at ease. Clark is home.

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

You’re running on fear and Kryptonite.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader

Word count: 1696.

Supergirl has a lot of enemies, but Superkid doesn’t have any and that’s basically because no one knows who she is. Or, so you thought.

You left school at the usual time, but before going home, you decided to go to the donuts shop. There’s one close to your school that is also close to CatCo, so you thought you would buy a few more, and stop at your momma’s work to share with her.

You’re walking down the street when you hear a gunshot. You look around and you can’t see anyone with a gun, and you also don’t see anyone hurt. You’re about to take off your glasses to check into the buildings when you hear another one.

But you can’t take off your glasses, because next thing you know you’re falling on the street. You feel something burning inside of you, and your hand goes to the place where this feeling is coming from. You raise your hand and see blood. Shit. That’s not possible.

When you realize what’s going on, you are already crawling to an alley nearby, so that no one can see you. And you’re almost sure it worked.

So, you try to think. You got shot. You can’t get shot. You’re bulletproof. But you are now bleeding from your stomach and there is an agonizing pain filling your body. It’s like the bullet got in your bloodstream, but it’s not possible. It’s not possible! Think!

What do you do now? Who do you call? Where do you go? Why is it burning so much? Is this what being shot usually feels like?

You finally look at your wound, it’s green. Fuck. It’s kryptonite. That makes sense. You’re not usually this dumb, but you just got shot with kryptonite bullet, and this is basically the first time you’ve been exposed to it.

It hurts. Actually, it burns. It’s like venom cursing through your body and, oh dear Rao, you need to do something before whoever shot you, come. They’re not just going to shoot you. It’s kryptonite, they know it makes you weak, so they must want something else.

You take off your glasses and look around. You don’t see right, your vision is blurry and you don’t know if it’s only because you’re crying, or also because kryptonite makes that to you.

You’re about to press the emergency button on the watch, when you stop yourself. You can’t. They have kryptonite. If Supergirl comes, they’ll have both you and your momma. And is this a real emergency? You have to figure this out on your own. You can’t call Supergirl, but you want your momma. You want Kara to hold you and tell you that you’re going to be fine.

You don’t have time to dwell on this thought, because you can see a guy coming at your direction. He is still on the other side of the street, but you know he’s probably not alone. And even if he is, you don’t think you can fight your way out of this.

You feel dizzy, and weak. There’s an excruciating pain going up your body, slowly taking over you. You can feel the kryptonite taking the best of you, but you’re half human, and that half human part is going to do whatever it takes for you to survive.

You take your phone from your pocket. You can’t call Kara. You also can’t call Lena. She would only get desperate and she wouldn’t be able to help. You can only call your aunt. Alex picks up in the first ring.

“Hey kid, listen, I can’t ta-”

“DO NOT call Supergirl! They have kryptonite.” Is the first thing you say. “I just got shot, I need help.”

“Ok.” She then screams at someone to call J’onn. “Listen, you have to stand still and apply pressure. I’m sending help.”

“They’re coming. I can’t stand still. It also hurts like a bitch so I’m definitely not applying pressure.” It’s so painful, but you stand up and walk further into the alley. “Can you track me?”

“Yes. J’onn is on his way, but don’t hang up, I need you on the line.” You can hear Alex yelling directions at everyone. She goes back to the phone. “Where’s the wound?”

“Stomach.” You breathe the answer. You feel sweat coming from your forehead. This is horrible. Rao, you want your mommy. You want you mommy so bad you don’t care who knows it.

“Did you see who did it?” She keeps asking questions and you know it is not because she needs you on the line, but because she needs to know you’re still alive.

“No. Sniper at a building. My x-ray vision is blurry.” You try to breathe, it gets harder. You bend your body and the pain gets worse. Shit. You’re panting now. And your whole body feels like a bomb. You collapse on the floor. “Shit, shit. Don’t tell Lena.”

“Kid!” Alex yells. “Kid are you still with me? Please, keep talking. Oh my God.” Alex keeps yelling on the phone. You can hear her, you want to answer, but your voice doesn’t come out anymore.

There is a man coming your way and you’re just lying there waiting for whatever comes next. He’s probably going to kill you. Is this a ‘press the emergency button’ moment? Before you decide, you see J’onn flying in front of your body. It’s all a blur after that. You are trying your hardest to stay awake, but the images keep blurring in your head and you only have snippets of what’s happening. J’onn is flying with you. Alex’s face. You’re rolling into the DEO on a stretcher. Brainy is in the surgery room with Alex.

“You did great, kid.” She puts a mask on your face and you know you’re about to sleep, so before you do it, you remove the mask and whisper:

“Please, they can’t...” And you’re out.

When you wake up, there’s this strange feeling. You feel like shit. You’ve never felt like this before, that’s for sure. The place where the bullet went in is still burning, but in a different way. It doesn’t burn open in agony, in burns because it’s closing. It also burns because there’s a yellow sun lamp above you.

You look around you. Only Brainy is there, but he didn’t notice you yet. Your moms aren’t here. Did your aunt really didn’t tell them?

You’re somewhat relieved. You know that if they knew it would cause them so much worry. But at the same time, you’re sad. You wanted them to be there. You wanted Lena to hold you. You needed to see Kara’ smile when looking at you. You needed their comfort.

“Oh. The Superkid is awake.” Brainy finally notices you and comes closer. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just got shot.”

“Great, because you did!” He thinks about it for a second. “Not that is great, but… Well, I’m pleased to inform you that J’onn J’onzz captured the sniper, who is currently being interrogated by Director Danvers.”

“Good.”

“And also, that your moms just arrived.” With that Brainy leaves and the two of them walk in. Lena is fully sobbing and staring at you like you’re not awake and alive at the moment. Kara looks very confused.

“Hey.” You try.

“My baby!” Lena holds your hand, and with the other she cups your face. You smile shyly. She keeps crying while caressing your cheeks.

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“You are NOT fine. This…” She points at you. “Is not what fine means. I-I can’t.”

Lena closes her eyes and Kara comes from behind her to hug her in comfort. With her free hand, she puts on top of your now slightly smaller wound.

“You didn’t call me.” Kara says and you can feel the pain in her voice. It hurts you too.

“They had kryptonite, momma. They would have hurt you too.” You are not justifying. You did the right thing and you know it, but she doesn’t look happy with your choice.

“I’m supposed to protect you.” Her hand feels hot on your wounded skin, but it’s somehow comforting.

“I’m ok.” You look at them and their hurt expressions and your heart shrinks. You’ve never felt so human before. You get hurt, and the people that love you get scared and hurt like you. This is what being human feels like. “Hey. A couple more hours in the yellow sun and I’m as good as new.”

“Try a couple more days.” Alex says and your moms turn their faces to look at her walking in the room. “Your daughter is very lucky she is half human. The kryptonite took a while longer to hit, so she’s completely fine now that I removed the bullet. But, well, her half human part also delays the recovery.”

“What do we do now?” Kara asks. You want to tell her she’s been through this before innumerous times, but she looks scared and confused, so you don’t say a word.

“Take her home, let her rest under the sunlight for a couple days.” Alex goes to you and smiles. “I’ll come to check upon you tomorrow, but, um...” She chokes up a little. “You-you did amazing today. I’m very proud of you, ok?”

“Thanks, aunt Alex.”

Your moms take you home, and even though you can walk, Kara insists on carrying you everywhere. She also puts your bed in the backyard so you can soak up as much sunlight as you can, and Lena makes all of your favorite foods.

You’re feeling less shitty by the minute, and their constant presence around is actually helping a lot. It’s just when Kara puts your bed back in your bedroom at night, and they don’t leave, that their presence feels a little overwhelming.

“How long are you guys going to stand around my bed like a bunch of creepers?” You ask with a smile on your face so they know you’re joking. Lena scoffs and sits on the bed next to you.

“Oh, we’re not leaving at all.” Kara immediately grabs the chair nearby.

“Not now.” Lena says hugging you and Kara smiles putting her hand on top of your wound. “Not ever.”

Notes:

I’m officially naming @hermen0404 my idea buddy. Thanks for another awesome prompt.

#supercorp daughter #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x lena #reader insert #supercorp #supercorpfamily

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monsterthalia · 3 years

Note

Fenris and memory for DADWC? Please and thank you!

Thank you so much for this prompt, it inspired me so much that I've wound up writing it outside of official @dadrunkwriting hours, but I just wanted to share it with you now that it's complete. It rather got away from me, and it's also my first Dragon Age smut! [klaxon sounds]

Fenris/F!Hawke, rating: M. This story is set shortly after DA2.

*~*~*~*

They were days out of Kirkwall when they first dared stop at an inn. None of them had forgotten Sebastian’s threat, and they were carefully keeping the Vimmark Mountains between them and Starkhaven as they clung to the coast. Anders’ vague strategy was to make for Ostwick, and see if there were rebel mages there who might take him in. Varric and Merrill planned to lay low there as well, with a mind to heading back to Kirkwall when they could. Isabela talked about heading straight on to Antiva and meeting up with an old friend, and was trying to lure Merrill with her, with golden tales of piracy and booty and adventure on the high seas.

Fenris’s answer was simpler. When the topic first came up over the campfire, he stated, “I go where Hawke goes.”

She had already guessed, hoped as much. He’d said as much when they had first reconciled after Danarius was good and dead, bleeding out on the tiles of the Hanged Man, but since then she’d tested that bond to the limit - refusing to execute Anders, asking him to defend mages against Templars in a battle that looked like a hopeless last stand. But even then, he’d looked her in the eye and promised her that nothing would keep him from her. Desperate, determined words, but the kiss that followed - it was a promise that they would have more life, more time.

The inn was small but well-kept, halfway along a dusty track between two larger towns and at a crossing over an inlet from the sea. They were not the only guests, but this meant they could claim to be en route to the same market as the other travellers, rather than raise suspicions for their reasons for being on the road. Isabela and Hawke went in alone to pay for the rooms, with Isabela being just handsy enough to ensure the innkeeper would remember them as a couple rather than two of a group, and smuggled the more notorious and distinct members of their group up the stairs away from prying eyes.

Merrill and Isabela took a room, and Varric and Anders another. They neatly and promptly split up without a word, leaving the third room to Hawke and Fenris, and closed their doors. Hawke’s mouth went a little dry, heat rising to her skin, and she turned to Fenris, to see if he was of the same mind. His own eyes were dark as they met hers, and after that swift moment of silent understanding, she pulled him into the room and slammed the door behind them.

The door closed, Fenris pushed her up against it, kissing her deeply, hungrily, and pressing the entire length of his lean, taut body against hers. Hawke broke from his lips to gasp at the pressure of him driving into the heat, the tightness already building between her legs, and he took the opportunity to drop his head and fasten his lips to her neck instead, scraping teeth as he dragged down the sensitive skin to her collarbone, to that spot where her neck met her shoulder that made her clutch him for dear life as he kissed her there. Her knees buckled slightly, and Fenris growled in approval.

It had been so long - not since fleeing Kirkwall, of course, though every night round the campfire had seen them lying side by side, Fenris’s arms around her, holding her tightly against him as she burrowed into his chest, neither entirely believing that they were still free, still breathing, still together. But even before then, when everything was so chaotic and dangerous that they barely spent a full night sharing a bed, let alone having energy or the mind for anything else.

She tried to move, to take this towards the bed they were finally allowed, but at first he resisted, taking her hands and pinning them against the door, trapping her hips beneath his own, as he continued to drop kisses across her collarbone, pressing his thigh between her legs, such that she almost lost her mind entirely, only able to tip her head back to allow him better access and feel stars spin in her head. But after a few seconds of this, she rallied, and with a growl of her own, wrestled her arms free and shoved him towards the bed. His eyes sparked in delight at her meeting his strength with her own and he let himself be tipped backwards onto the mattress, let her straddle him and lean to press kisses of her own to his face, his neck, groaning as he let her take control.

She could feel his hardness pressing into her core and the clothes between them became maddening. Her fingers found the fastenings on his armour and she pulled away for a moment, looking him in the eye and breathing, “May I?” He nodded, and she rapidly began unfastening, pulling pieces away, as he likewise reached up and began to tear off her clothes as quickly as he could, still pulling her face to his to kiss her whenever he could.

As soon as his chest was bare, her own exposed, he rolled, flipping her onto her back and pressing kisses down her front, onto her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking such that she gasped, arching up into him. She pulled his face back up towards hers and held it there, kissing him, missing his mouth when it was away from hers, and he let himself lean down into it, resting on an elbow as he kissed her deeply, leisurely, tracing down round her breasts down to her stomach with her free hand, drawing circles and swirls and bringing every inch of skin to fiery life, begging for his attention, his touch.

The fingers traced further down, towards the band of her trousers, playing with it, running his fingers over the button fastening them. She whimpered a little and he grinned against her kiss. “May I?” he growled.

“Oh Maker yes please,” she just about managed to gasp back coherently, pressing up against him, and with a deep chuckle, he unfastened the trousers and slid his fingers down beneath her drawers, and finally brushed his fingers down into the wetness he found there.

The first brush of his fingers against the bundle of nerves which so ached for him had her moaning, and he moaned as well, stroking slowly but surely, still kissing her and sweeping his tongue deeply into her mouth. The first slide of a finger inside her had her whimpering his name, and he whispered her own back to her, hot breath meeting and mingling such that they breathed each other in, and there was nothing beyond their little world which was their bodies and their breath.

She wanted him so badly, craved him filling her completely, but even as she cried out at his touch, she kept her hands to his torso, gripping his shoulders tightly and digging in her nails when a new wave of feeling blazed up her spine, down to her toes. Because since that first time - after Hadriana, when she was so convinced she’d done the wrong thing and lost him forever, only to find him waiting for her, all fire turned from rage to passion - when his memories had reawoken for that instant and shook him to his core - he had never asked her to touch him. Too scared of what he might see. Too scared of what he might feel.

He had touched her as he did now, kissing her until she was on fire, stroking her until she came completely undone and cried out his name, but after, if she tried to reach for him, to return the pleasure he so readily gave her, he just shook his head and held her close as their breathing eventually slowed and evened out. She understood he wasn’t ready for that again yet, and it was fine - she could hardly complain, after all, when he left her wrung out and gasping over and over again - but she did hope that one day, he might again let himself be that vulnerable again, let her be the one to hold him as he fell apart in mindless bliss and keep holding him until he put himself back together.

His fingers moving in her stilled, and she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her. His eyes were dark, his breathing hard, but there was a kind of serenity in his expression as he said gently, “Marian…”

It felt like a gift. It felt like hope. She raised a hand to his face and looked deep into his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded, a smile creeping back onto his lips. “Yes - yes - I mean, I don’t know what will happen, but -”

He was starting to look nervous, but Hawke kept on gazing steadily at him. “We don’t have to. But if you want to, we can take whatever comes. Together.”

He gazed down at her, and kissed her, and she could feel the gratitude and the love he was not able to express. The kiss changed, though, becoming hungrier, as he seemed to release the hold he had been keeping on his own desires, his own need, finally letting it flood him. “Get the rest of these clothes off,” he growled, and she hastily obeyed.

Finally, it was just skin on skin, and finally, FINALLY, she felt the length of him nudging at her entrance, spread her legs for him and kissed him softly, gently, as he slid inside her. He let out a groan, eyes shut, pressing little kisses all over her face, and she held him close, running her hands up his arms and twining around his neck, as he slowly, steadily, began to move. He was trembling, and she just held him, and kissed him, and began to roll her hips to meet his, settling into a rhythm which sent waves of pleasure through her with every stroke.

“Marian,” he gasped, eyes still closed, as he moved over her - building speed now, sweat beading on his skin, breath coming out in hard pants. She could already feel release starting to build in her as she met him stroke for stroke, but she ran a hand up into his hair, pressed the other against his torso, to where his heart beat in his chest, hammering hard and fast.

“Fenris,” she breathed, feeling him getting close, “I’m here - I’m right here -”

He clung to her as he lost himself, as he pounded into her and release found him, as he cried out her name. As he slowed she held him close, as he panted into her shoulder, running her hands up and down his lean torso, pressing kisses to his face and chest and whispering that she loved him, that she was there, that he was safe.

She hadn’t expected more from him - this was already such a huge step for him, and she was proud, immeasurably so - but even as he lay against her, still panting, she felt his fingers returning to between her legs, felt him touch her with expert precision. “Fenris,” she gasped, trying to protest that it wasn’t necessary, that she didn’t need to - but in that same moment she felt herself tightening, clenching around him, her release already spiralling, and could only fall back, crying out, “Fenris” again as it all got too much, as the pleasure became so acute as to almost be painful - before finally, gloriously, fracturing, sending shockwaves of sensation shooting along her nerves and across her whole body, fingers to toes, followed by gentler waves of relaxation and bliss, leaving her limp and boneless in his arms.

She heard Fenris huff in amusement as he traced her fingers out from between her legs and up her stomach, across to her hip, pulling her in closer. “You can’t have thought so little of me to think I’d leave you unsatisfied.”

“No, I just-” She was still gasping for breath, still struggling for coherent thought, everything in her head feeling completely scattered. She found herself quite lost for words, and Fenris chuckled again.

They just held each other, breath slowing, Fenris tracing his fingers up and down her bare hip. Finally Hawke could turn to look at him, and ask, “Are you all right?”

“I am.” He smiled, and pressed a kiss between her brows. “I… did remember something. Just for a moment, again. But since I guessed it might happen, it was less startling.” At the worried expression on her face, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine. Really.”

Hawke nodded, anxiety still gnawing at her. “Are you sure? We don’t have to-”

Fenris let out a little sigh, and his expression as he looked down at her was calm. Content, even. “To be honest, the first time… it was so unexpected. And at that time, I thought it was what I wanted most in the world. To remember. The shock of gaining it, and then losing it the next moment… it broke my heart.” Hawke said nothing, listening, but took his hand in hers and clutched it. He gave a small smile as he looked down at her, and continued. “But this time… I knew it might happen. I was ready, or as ready as I could ever be. And…” He hesitated, his eyes moving slowly over her face. “It’s not what I want most any more.”

He raised her hand where she clutched it, looked deep into her eyes as he kissed it. “What I wanted most was right here.”

#dragon age #smut glorious smut

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Text

Investment Part 5: The Quiet

AN: Soooo this part ended up being short compared to the others, cause it’s a connecting chapter. Also I wanted to use a certain gif SO BAD but I COULDN’T because it would spoil the end. You’ll know what I wanted to use by the end, hehehe

I kept agonizing over characterization, which is why it took me so long even though for the Investment series it’s pretty short.

Also, apologies to the people who weren’t tagged in the previous part, my tags were messed up and I just found out the other day, but I think they’re fixed now.

Characters: Vampire!Levi, Reader, Hange (Mentioned), Erwin (Mentioned), and a SURPRISE

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood, a bit of past Trauma and Fear, Gore

Word Count: 6522

<----Previous Part Masterlist Next Part---->

*Reader’s POV*

As you guided the horse through the dissipating fog, you kept glancing down at Levi in front of you. He held to the saddle horn with one hand, the other splayed on his chest as he weaved unsteadily in front of you, hunching forward with barely enough distance between his forehead and the horse’s bobbing neck. He still wasn’t in great shape, but he wasn’t near death anymore, which was a relief. You weren’t trying to catch up to the main formation anymore--they were long gone now, and the only thing you could hope for was for them to collect you two on the way back.

The silence between the two of you was almost uncomfortable, both of you enduring what remained of the wind and rain without a word spoken between either of you since you’d forced Levi to drink your blood. You could only imagine what was going on in his head after you’d done that. As much as you were aware it may have hurt him, you didn’t regret it--it was what you’d needed to do at the time, no matter what your personal feelings on the matter were.

Your arm still hurt where he’d bit you, and you could feel the odd sensation of mostly dried blood on your arm at his side. You really hoped the rain was helping to wash it away and getting rid of the temptation for him, because you didn’t have time to wrap up your arm while trying to flee the scene before Titans appeared. He hadn’t made any complaints or obvious fidgets of discomfort, though, so you could only assume he was coping. Maybe he was too distracted right now to really react, though there wasn’t much to distract either of you except your own thoughts.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology came out of nowhere, and it was so softly spoken the wind almost swallowed it up entirely. Shocked, you looked at the back of Levi’s head directly in front of you. He wasn’t turning to look at you, and he was still in that hunched over position. There was no outward sign that he’d spoken, but you were certain that he had.

“I pushed too hard...and I can’t fix what I broke. No matter how much I want to.”

The only thing Levi could have possibly seen in reaction to his words was the tightening of your grip on the reins to a white knuckled one, causing your bite mark to ache. Your eyes burned from more than just the wind, and your throat closed up as you struggled to swallow the emotion welling up inside you at his words so you could focus on getting the two of you to the safehouse.

That...that was an apology that you’d needed to hear to start to really forgive him.

Seeing him again, being a part of his life again even if it was from a distance, studying with Hange and learning more and more about what was happening to him, what he was struggling with; it had softened you to him once again, had seeds of genuine care sprouting in your heart again. However, there had still been something complicating it, something that held you back from starting to forgive him.

Now, after seeing him near true death again like that first night, then seeing him so hell bent on not drinking from you again no matter the personal cost...The sight of his fingers digging into the earth, rain and blood soaked, and his body taught and turned away as he vehemently refused your offer was going to be burned into your mind for years to come. He’d never admit it out loud, but you had the sense now, after that display back there, that what he’d done had damaged him as well as you. If he wasn’t traumatized from it, he was at least drowning in guilt for the things he’d done--and not just to you.

And now there was this apology, even if it was so soft spoken you almost missed it, the words disappearing in the wind as you raced forward, Levi not even turning to meet your gaze as he said it--though you strangely weren’t hurt by that fact. You knew it wasn’t for a lack of sincerity that he didn’t meet your gaze. He’d never been the best at communicating when it came to his emotions, anyway--he was a constant puzzle you had to pay attention to and work through to figure out what he was feeling or thinking, because most of the time, he wasn’t openly expressionate. But sometimes, like now, he would give someone a key piece to solve the current puzzle. And on the rarest of instances, like back there, he was open and vulnerable, though usually that was when the emotion was too strong even for him to contain. And he probably tried to keep those moments of vulnerability to when he was alone.

Just because his emotions were usually hidden or he could be tough to read, didn’t mean he was heartless and incapable of feeling, though, like some might suggest.

Even though you didn’t say anything in response to his short and quiet apology, as you gazed at the back of his head, you could feel a part of you forgive him. You weren’t ready to tell him verbally that you forgave him, you needed a bit more time for that...but in your heart, you were starting to forgive him.

Blinking away a few tears, you forced yourself to look ahead again, slowly bringing yourself out of the emotional funk and paying closer attention to the area around you, even though you knew Levi was going to be able to spot any Titans long before you could.

While some bases the Scouts had established were in ruins or abandoned castles, there was the occasional small house constructed high in the giant trees that grew in the area, far out of reach of any Titan but the Colossal Titan and accessible with ODM gear instead of ladders, for safety’s sake. It was one of these treehouses that Levi guided you to for the two of you to lay low until you could be retrieved by the main scout regiment body. Trusting your horse’s training to stay in the area, you let the horse wander as it pleased down below while you used your operational ODM gear to get the still-hurt Levi up to the treehouse. Once the weather cleared up, and day broke, you were going to go up into the treetops as high as your ODM gear would throw you and fire your flare shots to signal Hange.

But first, you needed to tend to Levi.

Once inside the small military cabin-esque safehouse, Levi took a seat on one of the lower bunk beds, an audible ‘Tch’ sounding in the room when he found the place fairly dusty. It hadn’t been used for a while, so it hadn’t been cleaned. You might have to see to fixing that afterwards--if you had the supplies to clean around here, which you might, if the Scouts had kept Levi in mind while setting this place up--for his sanity’s sake.

In the meantime, you took a seat on the edge of the bunk, a hand already out to touch one of the spots that was still damp with blood. “Let me take a look,” you asked, but Levi grasped your wrist before your fingers could brush fabric.

“I’m fine--it’s healing,” he said firmly, starting to sit up. One of the stains darkened in the process, convincing you otherwise.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help. Hange’s gonna want healing details anyway.”

“Leave it--I can tell her myself.”

“Levi,” you said firmly, holding his gaze with a harder look. “Let me look--you’re still bleeding, there’s still open wounds, they should probably at least be wrapped until they seal up, to keep them clean and try and staunch the bleeding. Or do you want to have to drink from me again because you lost more blood?”

He already might have to before the Scouts returned, but you didn’t mention that right now. Besides, you needed a little rest before you could act as a doner again.

Levi sighed, leaning back with eyes closed, a look of displeasure on his face. “Fine.”

Glad you’d won this little battle, you went through your stuff for your emergency medical supplies, finding the bandages and such you would need to wrap his wounds before turning around to see him already undoing the straps for his gear and sliding it off his torso. As you came closer, the cravat was carefully set aside and his fingers started unbuttoning his rain and blood soaked shirt.

If it hadn’t been for the garish shallow hole in his chest a few buttons down, this could have easily turned into an awkward and embarrassing moment. It was still a little awkward, as the start of a burn in your cheeks might suggest, but seeing the injury helped you mellow again. To keep the embarrassment at bay, you kept your eyes down, looking at his gradually exposed chest and refusing to meet his eyes as you turned all your attention to his injuries.

Well, the good news was that it did seem to be healing. The bad news was that the healing process had slowed dramatically for reasons unknown. Clearly, he’d healed rapidly earlier considering none of the holes went all the way through, but if it had stayed at that pace, these would have been gone by now. Your fingers even came away wet with blood--not a lot, but the point was that the wounds were still bleeding.

“I wonder why you stopped healing so fast…” you murmured, mostly to yourself as you helped Levi carefully sit up so you could properly start tightly wrapping around his torso so both front and back wounds were covered.

“Maybe I only heal fast at the start before it slows down,” Levi suggested, attempting to hold still while you worked. Both of you were ignoring the close proximity, even while your breath tickled his bare chest, fingers flush against his warm skin where you were holding him steady.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Based off Hange’s observations, at least. You usually heal fairly quickly at the same pace.”

You had a theory, but considering you knew it wasn’t one you could test--or rather one you were certain Levi wouldn’t comply to testing--you were going to keep your mouth shut for now and mention it to Hange, later.

“You have been working with Hange,” Levi said as if he was confirming a theory of his. When you nodded, he pressed forward. “That’s how you knew about the curtains, why you made the tins, where you got the bracelet…”

It seemed he’d been paying just as close attention to you as you had been to him. Nothing got past Levi--he was as deductive and observant as ever. You were, too, though, and you thought you could hear a timber of...perhaps it was guilt in his voice again? Maybe he was thinking about what led to the arrangement between you and Hange. Or maybe he had the wrong idea about why you’d done all of it.

“I wanted to know what was happening with you, and I wanted to help however I could. Even if it was from a distance,” you admitted quietly.

Finished wrapping him up, you pulled back, grabbing what you’d used and getting up from the bunk. “Anyways, I’m going to see what I can do about cleaning up around here--you need to rest. It will help with the healing process.”

“So do you,” Levi said pointedly, eyes following you as you moved around the cabin looking for anything that you could use to clean up. “I don’t sleep much, anyway. I’ll keep watch while you sleep.”

You were rather exhausted. It had been a hard ride since the Scouts had left the walls, not to mention digging for Levi had been a wearisome, and he drank a hefty amount of your blood. That meant you were admittedly worn down and woozy, but at least you weren’t injured--well, not as bad as Levi, anyway.

Speaking of, you needed to sit down and wrap that before you got started cleaning.

“You really shouldn’t--”

“Just shut up and get some rest. I’ll make it an order if I have to,” Levi cut you off, looking slightly irritated at your insistence to try and keep him on bedrest while you darted around trying to do stuff.

Oh, ho, ho, he was threatening to pull the rank card. That one rarely got pulled, considering he wasn’t really one for authority. All right, you would give--this time. As long as he was still going to take it easy, you couldn’t complain too much.

After searching the entire cabin, you came to the conclusion that no, they hadn’t kept Levi in mind while supplying this place. You couldn’t find what you were looking for.

Heaving a disappointed sigh, you sat on the bunk opposite where you’d laid him down to rest, the bandages in hand once more. “Sorry, Levi, but there’s nothing here to clean with.”

“We’ll make do. Get some rest--you’ll need it in the morning,” Levi said, getting up from the bunk and finding his way to a chair by one of the windows with visible effort before sitting back down with his head leaned back, gazing out the window.

Reluctantly, you settled back onto the bunk, gaze trained on Levi and taking in his bandages, noting what spots already had red speckling through. You took the time to wrap up your arm, officially covering up the wound and hopefully helping him ignore any lingering bloodlust he might not be saying anything about. Silence settled over the cabin, the only sound your occasional shift on the bunk to try and get comfortable and your steady breaths.

You ended up surrendering to exhaustion with the last thing you saw Levi sitting perfectly still in his seat by the window, his gaze distant and far away, lost in his own thoughts.

*Levi’s POV*

After she fell asleep, there was nothing but Levi and his thoughts in the dark space, slivers of moonlight making its way into the room through the large trees and the window to give a semblance of light.

There was a dull ache in his jaw that had only started to dim after she had wrapped her arm to cover the open wound, but it wasn’t going away entirely. He could still smell the blood in the air, even if it was made faint. The wounds he’d received when he was crushed under the rubble had healed for the most part, not counting the wounds where he’d been impaled. Those were well wrapped and covered, but they still hurt like a bitch and sapped at his strength. He wasn’t oblivious to the wet blood that still darkened the wraps, even if it was slow. He just had to keep with the knowledge that he was healing, and it would eventually stop and his wounds close. He had at least a whole night and however long of the day it took for them to rejoin with the Scout formation to heal. Even if he tried to sleep tonight, he doubted he would be able to between insomnia, pain, the smell of blood in the air, and his thoughts.

As if that was different from any other night…

His head turned slightly to look at Y/N asleep on the bunk, face cast in shadow.

He had been mulling over what he would say to her for so long, trying to get the words to work, to come out right without being too blunt or harsh. He didn’t want to mess up this apology, which was why so much thought went into it. Frankly, he’d imagined he’d be sitting down talking to her face to face when he finally said it, but instead, he found himself saying it in that silence during their ride back. It had been at the front of his mind, then; glaring at him and demanding that he say something. He couldn’t gauge a reaction or anything sitting in front besides her grip tightening on the reins and her heartbeat picking up. He was pretty sure he picked up on a faint sound, like a whine that didn’t quite make it past her throat...but he could have imagined it.

On another note, she’d managed to help soothe another pain, possibly without realizing it. All that time, those little things she’d been doing like putting up curtains and making those bloodlust tins, he had thought she was doing it because she was terrified of him and trying to keep him pacified so he wouldn’t attack her again. Now she’d just told him she hadn’t done it out of fear like he’d assumed--she’d done it because she was genuinely trying to help. She still cared, even then, after everything…

Levi let out a slow breath, eyes halfway lidded as his gaze shifted to a dark corner of the cabin. At this point, he might as well stop being so damn stubborn about her getting involved in what was happening with him. He’d never really managed to get her out of this mess. She’d always been involved, and she was still involved. There was no point in continuing to try and keep her at a distance if it clearly never worked to begin with. He could at least control what he could, so he could make sure she at least stayed safe instead of ending up in reckless situations trying to muscle past his stubborn exterior. But pushing her away wasn’t the way to make it work.

While coming to terms with the fact she was going to be a part of this despite his initial decision, he caught the sound of her heartbeat quickening. Turning his head, he could tell she was still asleep, even as her breath got shallower and faster.

After all those nights your nightmares kept him awake, he was quite aware of what it sounded like when you were having one, even this early. You were having them a little less from what he’d been able to hear at night. As much as you’d both been getting off your chests tonight emotionally--at least in Levi’s head--that didn’t mean the trauma wasn’t still there. Hell, him biting you again may have triggered it tonight.

As it started to get worse, twitches and whimpers coming from your bunk, Levi carefully got to his feet, a little more steady than last time as he’d had a bit more time to rest and recover. As he walked over to the bunk, the signs grew clearer. Little twitches from the fingers, eyes darting side to side behind her eyelids, shallow fast breaths. It wasn’t severe enough to be waking her up, though--he was well aware you weren’t supposed to wake someone up from a nightmare unless it was at a certain point of severity. Besides, he was fairly certain if it got as bad as some of the nights he’d overheard her, she might just wake up on her own.

Just in case, Levi settled carefully on the very edge of the bunk, sitting there and listening to her heart rate and breathing, little sounds of distress, his face completely hidden in shadow as he pushed aside the thoughts that he was the one who had caused these night terrors in the first place.

Her hand partially jumped up off the bed with a muscle spasm, catching Levi’s full attention. Instinctively, he reached out to carefully put a hand on her shoulder, staying as gentle as he could with her as he studied her face with a sharp eye. Any more movements like that, and he would wake her up for her sake.

Her head tossed to the side, that same arm coming up partially and curling towards her chest, prompting Levi to give her a careful shake. “Oi...wake up,” he commanded in a voice that was still fairly quiet in the name of trying to wake her gently so he didn’t startle her awake.

It took a couple more shakes because she was so deep in her nightmare, but when he did manage to get her to wake, it was not peacefully. Her body jerked, and her arm flung out, almost hitting Levi in the face if he hadn’t caught her hand with his. Her eyes were wild with panic, and her heartbeat didn’t settle, giving him a cutting reminder that her nightmares didn’t always end when she woke, and the subject matter of these night terrors were...

Pushing aside his emotions yet again, Levi’s grasp on her hand tightened slightly.

I know she’s having nightmares about me. But how the hell am I supposed to convince her I’m not going to hurt her again to soothe them?

*Reader’s POV*

You were disoriented when you woke up, breathing heavy and gaze tearing apart the shadows for the red eyes you knew would be glaring at you from somewhere in the darkness. You tensed at the feeling of something grasping your hand, heart speeding up with the thought that the creature from your nightmares was right beside you and already had a grip on you, about to tear into you mercilessly.

Before the panic could take over entirely, your hand was pulled in, and you found it splayed against a warm and bandaged chest, one hand on your wrist and the other covering yours. You paused because you were confused by the unexpected action, and it definitely served to make you stop long enough for your head to start to clear.

There was, in fact, someone right beside you--Levi. You could make out his form in the faint moonlight that was let in through the open windows, his eyes somewhat visible between the little light and how close he was. He had to be sitting right on the edge of your bunk, now that you thought about it.

But, what you were mostly focused on was the feel of him holding your hand against his chest, able to feel him tangible and warm beneath him, a clear sign that he was real, not whatever you had seen in your dreams or might see lurking in the darkest corners. You could feel his heartbeat faintly with how firmly he had your hand pressed against his chest, and yet he wasn’t rough with you. He was careful and steady, and even though neither of you were speaking, it was almost like he was reassuring you in the suddenly softer darkness.

Hesitantly, you looked up at his eyes, those crimson eyes that peered at you in the darkness and terrorized you at night flashing through your mind. Yet, when you looked at him--what you could see of him--all there was, was the feel of his very human heartbeat, and those blue grey eyes of his studying your every move carefully. Not crimson--blue grey, and there wasn’t a hint of malice from him. Just genuine concern.

Abruptly, the red eyed demon that manifested in your dreams and came to torment you at night was completely separated in your mind from Levi. Even knowing what he was, what he was capable of after being on the receiving end, knowing those red eyes had originated from him, a sense of safety started to fall over you. Even if that demon somehow became real and came after you in the dark, he was perfectly capable of protecting you from it; and you knew he would.

A little piece that had broken in the Underground started to heal inside you at the unexpectedly soft and gentle action from Levi.

“It was a dream,” Levi suddenly said, voice a little gruff, but the intent to calm was still there. “You really think anything dangerous would get past my watch?”

Indeed. If there was any real threat, Levi wouldn’t let it waltz right in and harm you. You were safe, which meant you could go back to sleep with the knowledge that there was nothing your night terrors could do to truly hurt you.

Relaxing substantially, you let out a shaky breath and attempted to settle back down to sleep.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi held his position until he felt and heard her starting to settle down, her heartbeat calming down, breathing evening out, and hand starting to go slack in his grip. Satisfied with the results of his attempt to calm you down and get you back to sleep, and admittedly surprised at how easy it had been, Levi started to pull away to go back to his chair by the window.

Her grip tightened on his hand before he could pull away, and he looked back at her, surprised, since he was sure she was asleep, or at least practically asleep.

“Stay…” she mumbled, the words almost incoherent.

Levi stood there for a moment, debating. He was supposed to be keeping watch, but he also didn’t want those nightmares coming back. Did he comply and settle back down, or trust she wasn’t awake enough to tell and pull away?

Technically, with these new abilities of his, he could watch for trouble from this very spot considering he could hear any Titans approaching--or any kind of trouble, for that matter.

Had this been anyone else, hell no, he wouldn’t have even calmed her down the way he had. But her...well, he’d cared about her before this garbage fire of a situation, and what he’d done to her had served to make him realize just how much he deeply cared.

So, for her, knowing she wanted and needed this…

Levi carefully sat back down, noticing that she did relax with his proximity and quickly slipped off to a deep and hopefully far more peaceful sleep.

Just to be safe, he kept her hand cradled carefully over his heart the entire night.

*Reader’s POV*

You woke up with the first rays of sunlight through the windows signaling the start of the next day, eyes crusted with a good night’s sleep. Levi was already up and moving around, a breeze coming in from the open door Levi was standing in. You sat up slowly, rubbing at your eyes and taking in the scene. Levi was already covered up, his bloodied shirt buttoned up over the bandages once more, jacket and cravat back in place. It was almost like yesterday had never happened.

Not that you had much time to dwell on such a thing. If it was daybreak and the skies were clear, you needed to get up to the trees and fire the signals before the Scouts had a chance to get any further away from your position.

Levi turned when he heard you getting up, expression unreadable as his gaze swept over you with an examining air. “You overslept.”

Looking at the amount of daylight, you knew you hadn’t slept in that much. “Not terribly.”

“You said there was a signal you needed to fire before the main group pulls too far ahead. You’ll want to do that now,” Levi told you.

Right, your ODM gear--it was next to the bed and ready for you. Did Levi get it ready? Had he set it up while you were still asleep instead of deciding to use it himself? You were the one who knew the signals, so it wasn’t like he could have signaled them himself while you were asleep.

At his comment, you got off the bunk, pushing hair out of your eyes as you started putting the ODM gear on, a slight furrow on your face. You wanted to get above the tree line, but you weren’t going to be able to fire the flares and operate the ODM gear at the same time, even if you did it one flare at a time.

Your gaze slid to Levi as your ODM gear clicked into place, and his eyebrows rose at the sheepish look you were giving him. “What?”

“Its two signal flares at the same time, and I want to try and get those signals above the tree line, but it’s impossible while using the ODM gear, so--”

Levi let out a long-suffering sigh, reaching for the pouch at his side and pulling out his flare gun. “I get it.”

“Green and purple flares. Hange said she would make sure there were people keeping an eye out for our signal so they could find us.” Your eyes lowered to his bloodied shirt in concern. “How are you doing?”

Levi picked at his shirt with a displeased sigh, clearly wishing he had a change of clothes. “Almost healed. I’ll be in perfect shape by the time the formation passes through.”

Considering he was already agreeing, loading the purple flare into his gun, you assumed that meant he was well enough to be carried around in ODM gear. He’d probably do the flying part himself if he was completely healed. Those injuries probably didn’t feel good with the straps rubbing against them.

Gear in place, you loaded the green flare into your gun and handed it to Levi, stepping out the door onto the bare, no railing balcony that served as a landing platform for ODM users. You craned your neck up to gauge how far away the treetops were, looking at Levi who was standing silently beside you.

“I’m just going to propel us above the tree line, and you fire before we head back down,” you told him. Levi’s gaze flicked upwards to gauge for himself how high the two of you were going to go before it settled back on you.

“You confident you can bring us up and back down while holding onto me?” Levi asked seriously. It was already difficult to fly around in ODM gear holding someone, so his question made sense.

“Well, even if I dropped you by accident, I’m sure you could catch yourself before you hit the ground with those new reflexes of yours.”

Levi snorted in derision. “That’s reassuring.”

“Well there’s no point yapping about it--let’s just get it over with. The sooner the better, like you said, right?” you said pointedly, pulling the controls into your hands and facing him with arms open.

He didn’t even need to give you the death glare that said ‘We will never speak of this to anyone,’ and you had the decency to hide your smile as he clambered into your arms, one of his arms hooked around your neck and both his hands keeping a firm grasp on the flare guns while you made sure you had a firm grip on him. Once you were certain he wasn’t going to tumble out of your arms and you could still use the ODM gear, you kicked off the balcony, shooting one of the grapples into the trees.

Like last night, it was much different maneuvering while carrying someone, and far more difficult. However, you grit your teeth and focused, able to feel Levi’s grip tighten slightly at your outward sign of concentration to do this. Clearly, he didn’t want to get dropped.

A few more grapples and well-timed bursts of gas allowed you to slingshot the two of you out above the trees and into the clear air. As your momentum slowed, Levi outstretched one arm to fire the purple shot, then angled the other as far from your head as he could without losing his grip considering you were starting to go down again and fired the green shot.

With the purple and green smoke trailing high in the air, you instinctively wrapped one of your arms around Levi as you started to fall, angling your body and firing another grapple into the trees, branches cutting at your face on the way down until you saw the safehouse again, grappling the two of you back to the safehouse.

As soon as your feet were steadily on the ground, Levi slipped out of your grip, heading inside without looking back at you.

“You’re bleeding.”

Your hand raised to your face to see if any of those branches had cut deeper than you’d thought, but you didn’t come away with any blood. The bandage on your arm, though, was freshly red.

Shit.

You’d forgotten about your arm injury while carrying him.

Cursing your carelessness, you headed inside the safehouse, spotting Levi leaning partially out a window and looking out over the forest to give you the chance to change your bandages without the blood bothering him as much.

He must have been getting thirsty again, if all that blood you’d given him had somehow been used up faster while he healed. Not that he was going to let you offer again, if he was up and walking around unimpaired again and you were both simply waiting to be recovered. He would definitely wait until you were back behind the walls before he went looking for a drink, and it wasn’t going to be you he tapped into.

Once the bandage was carefully wrapped around your arm, Levi turned back into the room, walking over to the bunk opposite yours and sitting on its edge.

“If you’re going to be involved in all of this, there needs to be ground rules,” Levi suddenly said, gaze boring down on you with intense seriousness. Your heart, however, leapt up in hopeful excitement.

“What are you thinking?” you asked hesitantly. Surely whatever he asked of you for the ground rules, it would be worth him finally relenting and letting you help him.

“You stop pushing your idea to have me drink from you. I don’t want to hear it again,” he said curtly. That one you could have predicted, so you simply nodded your head. “I don’t want you anywhere near the dangerous stuff if it can be helped. Any experiments Hange conducts about my diet, anything that will include this hunger taking precedence, I don’t want you near it if it can be helped. Don’t ever follow me when I go hunting again, either.”

Levi’s gaze was hard as flint, but you understood his motivations for these kinds of rules clearly. With how much he was afraid to hurt you again, how drawn to your blood he seemed to be, he didn’t want you in any situation where he might bite you again if he lost control--not if it could be helped. At least he was willing to negotiate under extraneous circumstances.

“I can agree to those terms,” you said with another small nod. Levi looked away, finding dirt on his hands from where it had touched the edge of the bunk and brushing it away with disgust, getting to his feet again.

“I’ll tell Hange and Erwin when we’re behind the walls again.”

*Kenny’s POV*

Normally, Kenny didn’t bother himself much with what was going on in the Underground anymore. He had far bigger things to concern himself with, far more important thinks. Anything that might have brought him to the Underground these days had either died or left.

But, that didn’t mean there wasn’t the occasional occurrence that piqued his interest and was worth turning a few filth-covered rocks over in the darkest corners of the Underground.

Kenny had heard a rumor. One he normally would have ignored, if it hadn’t been for one glaring detail that had rubbed him the wrong way.

Everyone with their ear to the ground and the properly placed contacts knew that there was a rash of killings happening in the Underground--more than usual, and done by the same person. Of course, the Underground was the perfect place for fostering serial killers, as he should know. It would have been passing information that Kenny eventually forgot if it hadn’t been for the nickname they were giving this guy.

The Ripper.

Give me a break...

That was supposed to be his moniker, one he’d earned from his earlier years and had transformed his name to legend. Now some newbie was taking that badge out from under him. He couldn’t have that, now, could he? He had a reputation to maintain.

First thing’s first, he had to find the guy. No one was really paying much attention to his victims, since they were mostly the low-level thugs and scum of the earth kind.

Kenny, however, knew how to look at a body and a crime scene and know what kind of a killer he was dealing with. This guy’s targets already helped narrowed the kind of person he was dealing with, but he wasn’t settling on any stereotypes until he’d seen several of the bodies and got a real feel for how this guy killed.

That would be even more revealing than the targets, in his professional opinion.

One thing he’d been quick to find out, was that the official number wasn’t accurate, because all the bodies hadn’t been found.

For example--Kenny was currently in an abandoned house, crouching down beside the hole in the floor that served as a dump site for one of the many uncounted for victims. After seeing that several of the counted bodies were in dark corners and back alleys that were rarely frequented, it wasn’t hard to deduce that there was at least some effort put into hiding some of these bodies.

But looking at this guy, it was clear that some of the worst were going to be the hardest to find.

The body was long dead and in a state of decay, but it was still clear that it had been soaked in blood and ripped into. The head was almost torn off of the neck that had been ripped almost completely through in jagged, unclean tears, like something had bit into both sides in a manner more befitting a starving wolf. The rest of the body, save a few bites along the lower neck where neck met shoulder, was left alone. Judging by the state of the guy, this had to be one of the first.

Kenny frowned, looking over at the rug that had been hiding the hole, now rolled aside by Kenny to reveal the body beneath. The wounds didn’t quite match the effort to hiding the body. These wounds that were more befitting a mauling in the street of a rabid animal, yet they were contrasted by the intelligence of this body being so well hidden that the remains had only been found by someone looking for them.

Though he could definitely see how people might be tempted to dub him a ripper after seeing this sap and some of the found bodies. Always going for the neck, usually ripping it right out…

A flash of white cut through the darkness as a thrill went through Kenny at the game of cat and mouse he already saw being set up in front of him.

This was going to be quite a show.

He was looking forward to the chase.

Next Part---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo

Investment Tags: @regalillegal @cecldcecld @soft-levi-girl-blog @kitomashi @hurwen-calaeril @doragonraitoningu

Vampire Levi Tags: @thesilencebeforeastorm @mysteriousmagicx @super-peace-fangirl @psychiccvampire

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