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#boots and clothes aren’t as easy as I thought they’d be
blueboobi · 3 years
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This is the first time in YEARS. And I say YEARS!! 7 or 8! That I have drawn a full body. And I am beyond proud of this. It can only get better with practice and you know what. I think I found my drive again 😊 (I’m still not too good with faces or hair) I’ve got a picture of the reference I used and how exactly I used it. It was fun!
This is my girl Aria💙 She loves wearing comfy sweaters and skirts and it’s often what she wears to practice. Feel free to ask me more about her!
Please follow my new art Instagram!! You can find me at rangoontoonballoon96 ! I’ll be posting warm up doodles and other things there that I don’t post here! (Yes the name is silly but I love it)
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pillage-and-lute · 3 years
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Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!
Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*
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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.
It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.
Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.
There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.
When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.
Damn.
See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.
And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.
Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.
Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.
“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond. 
“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.
“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”
Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.
“Have you told him that you love him?”
“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.
“Why ever not?”
“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”
“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”
“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”
Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”
Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”
“But he said no?”
“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”
“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”
“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”
“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”
Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.
“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”
She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.
Well.
The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too. 
“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”
Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed. 
He looked at Geralt for his opinion.
Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white. 
A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.
“Wow,” Jaskier said.
“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered. 
“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.
“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”
“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”
Geralt said nothing.
Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.
“We should go,” he said.
And they went.
The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.
The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.
It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.
They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.
“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”
“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”
Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.
“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans. 
Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight. 
“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.
“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.
The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement. 
Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.
Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.
“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”
And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.
“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”
“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.
“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.
“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.
“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.
Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music. 
Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.
“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.
“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.
“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.
“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.” 
Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.
“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”
The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it. 
Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”
“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”
They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.
The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume. 
He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”
People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.
“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.
“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”
Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’ 
And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.
Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still. 
It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”
The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache. 
Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.
Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind. 
Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow. 
Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking. 
He felt a little like doing so himself. 
The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.
More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.
“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”
“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.
“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.
“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.
A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.
“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.
Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home. 
“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.
“What?” Jaskier hissed.
“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”
Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.
Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.
It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.
They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth. 
There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.
“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”
It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?
He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.
Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.
“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.
Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”
“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.
“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”
“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”
As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.
“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.
“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said. 
“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.
“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.
Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.
To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier. 
Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.
Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.
“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.
“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.
“I danced with you though.”
Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”
Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”
It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.
“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.
“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”
Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.
“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.
“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”
He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below. 
Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life. 
“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”
“But-” Jaskier was cut off.
“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.” 
Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”
Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.
“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.
“I,” he said.
A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”
A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”
There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”
Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”
They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.
Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.
He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.
They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches. 
Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.
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It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense. 
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silversatoru · 3 years
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Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!
hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33
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levi ackerman x gn!reader
synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help
tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending! 
word count: 2.2k 
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Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have. 
Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.
You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you. 
You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern. 
“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge. 
“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed. 
“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”
“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse. 
“That’s an order, cadet”. 
His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety. 
Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.
That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine.  Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself. 
After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul. 
Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions. 
You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something? 
It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again. 
You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts. 
Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face. 
Things are feeling deplorable on your side — you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you. 
The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.
“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.
“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”. 
“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?” 
Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?
You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head. 
“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway. 
“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?” 
“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”. 
“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”
His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore. 
“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks. 
“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.
“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words. 
“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.
You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.
“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up. 
He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth. 
“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again. 
The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed. 
“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”. 
“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear. 
Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least. 
You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips. 
“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”. 
You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it. 
And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long. 
But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress. 
It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.
thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years
Text
SWAT Guy (Part 3)
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(Gif @a-profoundbond​)
Summary: Dean gets pulled out into a call and needs Sam for backup when some of his usual guys are out. But something isn’t right about the whole situation and is about to cause a world of trouble for everyone involved...
Masterlist
Pairing: SWAT officer!Dean x reader
Square: Dean Smith
Word Count: 2,300ish
Warnings: language, kidnapping, minor violence
A/N: For the purposes of this story, Sam is the reader’s brother. This was written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!…
_______
“Hi Sammy,” you said. He popped his head up from his desk and smiled. “I’m fine. Dean’s truck is in the shop so I’m picking him up today is all.”
“Lucky you. You get to deal with that hot mess on the way home,” said Sam, waiving his hand across the way. You turned and saw Dean in a suit, reading over a file at his desk. 
“Uh, what is he wearing?”
“He was deposed today,” said Sam. You turned back and cocked your head. “It’s like giving a witness statement kinda. We don’t always have time to go to the court house and not every case requires it.”
“He didn’t mention it.”
“I think he forgot. That’s my suit he’s wearing,” said Sam. You looked him over and noticed he was in his workout clothes, a smile crossing your face. “Shut it.”
“You guys are becoming friends,” you grinned.
“He’s a cocky asshole,” said Sam, flipping through some papers. “But he makes you happy.”
“Are his pants rolled up?” you asked with a smirk, catching site of the cuff at the bottom over his work boots.
“Oh trust me. We’ve been ragging on him all day long,” said Sam. “Staying over Dean’s again tonight?”
“Probably,” you said as you started to leave. 
“Y/N. Don’t you think you guys are going a little fast?” he asked.
“Sam. He’s been my boyfriend for nearly two months and I’m a big girl,” you said. He held up his hands and your walked around his desk, giving him a hug. “This isn’t another Lou incident.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again is all.”
“Dean’s different than Lou. Even you can know that.”
“You still fell for Lou.”
“I was in love with the idea of being in love. I didn’t love Lou.”
“Do you think you might love Dean?”
“I could see myself doing that down the road,” you said. “I gotta take Mr. Grumples home so he can get ready to have dinner at our place-”
“No,” groaned Sam, his head thrown back. “I just spent nearly nine hours with the guy.”
“He’s been over there all day and Dean’s downstairs is torn apart from the electrician right now. Come on. He hangs out for one night? Pretty please big brother?” you asked. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sucker.”
“You’re cooking,” he said. You hummed and headed across the way to Dean’s office, rattling on the doorway.
“Howdy handsome,” you said. He lifted his head up and grinned. “Look at your cute little suit.”
“I hate it,” he said. “God, stick me in my SWAT uniform any day over this shit.”
“You do look nice, even if the suit doesn’t quite fit,” you said, one of the guys from his SWAT team poking his head in the door. “Hi-”
“We got a hostage situation downtown,” said Henry, Dean jumping out of his seat. “Hey Y/N. Gotta run.”
“Y/N, I’ll see you at my place tonight, okay?” said Dean, ducking out of his office. “It’s gonna be a few hours probably.”
“Okay,” you said, walking forward and grabbing his hand.
“Y/N, I gotta go get suited up,” he said. 
“I know,” you said, leaning up and kissing him. “Be safe.”
“Always am,” he said, someone else from his team he recognized jogging down the hall.
“Dean! Hold up!” he called as Dean started to leave. “Micky’s out sick today.”
“Shit. Steve’s on vacation too,” said Dean. “Who’s on the roster?”
“Gary but I know he and his wife are driving up to the lake this weekend. He took a half day. He’s an hour out,” he said. Dean scanned his eyes and looked around the room, biting his bottom lip. “Weston!”
“What?” shouted Sam from his office.
“Dress. Now. Hughie, get him suited up. I want him on strictly surveillance. It’s all he’s cleared for,” said Dean as Sam jogged out of his office. “I said now Weston!”
“Dean,” you said as he started heading down the hall. 
“I’ll keep him safe. I promise. I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.”
Four Hours Later
“Oh my God,” you said as Sam walked into the house, still in his SWAT gear. “What is going on? A cop showed up an hour ago and said I couldn’t leave. He’s been parked out front all-”
“Y/N,” said Sam, showing in another man you recognized from their work. “This is Officer Todd. He’s Dean’s supervisor and he’s responsible for the SWAT organization in our department. He needs to ask you some questions.”
“Where’s Dean?” you asked. Officer Todd stared at you and took a deep breath. “Where’s Dean?”
“I need to-”
“Is he dead?” you asked with a thick swallow.
“We don’t believe so,” said the officer. 
“How the fuck don’t you know the answer? Either he is or-”
“An erroneous situation happened and we will all yell and place blame at another time. But if you want to help Dean, I need you to answer anything I ask of you and I mean anything,” he said. 
“What happened to Dean? Where is he? Is he stuck on your call you-”
“Y/N, we don’t know where he is,” said Sam. You stuck out your neck and Sam shut his eyes. “It was a trap and we fell for it.”
“It was a hostage situation. You-”
“It was a mistake. We believe Dean was the real target. We’re unable to locate him. Now I need you to answer my questions. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find Dean, alright?” asked Officer Todd. You nodded and sat down on the couch, the officer pulling out a notepad.
“Hey,” said the cop that’d been parked in the driveway, Sam and officer Todd long gone. You lifted your head up from the couch where you watched late night TV, the cop giving you a smile. “Can I use your bathroom quick?”
“Around the corner to the left. First door on the right,” you said. He waved and stepped inside, ducking around as you let out a sigh. You tugged your blanket up over yourself, bolting upright when you heard a thud. “Officer Hendricks? You okay?”
You got up and looked around the corner, two men in masks standing there. You turned and bolted for the front door, a foot tripping you along the way, smacking you straight into the ground. You rolled and stared up at them, one of them squatting down close to you.
“We need you to get something for us,” he said. “It’s at the police station. If you get it for us, you can have back your boyfriend.”
“Look at this,” said the other guy, taking a picture off the wall. “She’s with a cop.”
“That ain’t Smith,” said the first guy, looking around the room and spotting a picture of you and Sam from when you were kids. “It’s her brother.”
“He could get it and we bring her with us.” They stared down at you where you’d backed up next to the end table. “It might keep Smith more complacent. We’re gonna need that password eventually and she’ll get us that password.”
You reached into the basket and pulled out the gun hidden there, both men more in awe than anything else.
“No I don’t think you two understand how this works,” you said, standing up. “You tell me where Dean is and maybe I don’t shoot your dicks off if I like the answer.”
“She wouldn’t-” You pulled the trigger and shot the shorter one in the thigh, the other guy jumping.
“That was a warning shot. Now where’s Dean?”
Three Hours Later
You spun around in the office chair you’d been sat in for over an hour, slumped down and checking out of the door every few minutes.
“Hey,” said Sam, suddenly in the doorway. You turned and he was smiling, looking to his right. “Got somebody who says they owe you one.”
Dean smirked as he stepped into view, a black eye and scuffed up cheek but he looked relatively okay. You got up and gave him a hug, Dean laughing to himself.
“So you can cook and have that level of marksmanship? You’re the full package, aren’t ya,” said Dean, squeezing you tight. 
“Are you okay?” you asked.
“He’s fine. A few scrapes. Bigger issue is what these guys wanted,” said Sam.
“I’ve got the security code to our SWAT arsenal. It’s located near the back so it’s pretty easy to get in and out if you have the code,” he said.
“So it wasn’t you they wanted?”
“Just the info I had. The electrician at my house the past few days wasn’t a real one. They were snooping through my crap, trying to find it written down somewhere.”
“There’s a lot of stuff in that room that we don’t want on the street,” said Sam. “This is my case now. Something bigger is going on we don’t know about yet.”
“It’s highly unlikely they’d try that method of getting access again,” said Dean, glancing to Sam. “But Sam and I think it might be a good idea if I stayed with you guys for a while, until this settles down.”
“So you’re the one that gets kidnapped and I stop a kidnapping and save you yet I’m the one that needs protection,” you said. 
“God no. I want you watching my back,” said Dean. “I’m the wimp around here.”
You smiled and he gave you a kiss, wincing a little as you noticed the split lip. 
“If that’s okay with you that is.”
“Yeah,” you said, Sam ducking past you into his office. “Hey. When were you gonna tell me you signed up for the backup squad?”
“I thought it might help me look at things from a different perspective,” said Sam.
“You just wanted to wear the pants. They do make your ass look great I gotta say, Sammy,” teased Dean.
“Can you go get kidnapped again or something?” said Sam, stretching in his seat. “I gotta write up my report. Take him home Y/N. They’re leaving a few officers just in case.”
“I can do that,” you said. “Don’t stay too late, Sam.”
“I won’t,” said Sam, Dean leaving your side to head into his office.
“Y/N,” said Sam quietly. “Keep an eye on him. It might be a rough night for him.”
“He told you.”
“That he’s got PTSD? Yeah when we debriefed him he told me,” said Sam. “So keep an eye on him.”
“You tell him you do too?” you asked. 
“No. Someday,” he said as Dean came back with his backpack. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Later Sammy,” said Dean with a wave.
“I’m regretting this already.”
“Ouch,” hissed Dean as you put a new bandage on his writs at home. “That hurts.”
“You’re supposed to change them every few hours and your other ones were all bloody. This cream is supposed to help you not scar,” you said, undoing his other wrist. He pouted as you removed the roll, his right wrist as torn up and scabbed as the left was. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and he yanked it to his chest. You held up your hands and he offered it back slowly. “It’s alright.”
You tried to be more gentle as you put on the cream, carefully wrapping up the wrist again. Dean put his hands in his lap while you put the rest of the first aid stuff in your bathroom. You found him still sat on top of your bed when you returned, Dean picking at the bandage on his ankle.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” you asked. 
“I’m sorry I put you in danger.” He kept his head down and you sat beside him, tucking your knees into your chest.
“You didn’t put me in danger. Bad people did. If it wasn’t you it would have been your supervisor or someone else that knew that code. They thought you were the easiest to get to was all. Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
“Hold onto me tonight?” he asked. 
“That I can do.” You wrapped your arms around him and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not tonight. But I will. I’ll tell you about the other stuff someday too.”  
“Okay,” you said. “It’s pretty late. How about I get you some of Sam’s clothes to sleep in?”
“That big hoodie over there looks pretty nice,” he said, nodding to the one draped over your chair. You slid away and got up, helping him into it, tugging it down. 
“Looks good on you,” you said. You turned on your corner light and hit off the main switch, pulling back the covers for both of you to get under.
“Y/N?” You hummed as you tugged the blankets up and wrapped your arms around him. “Be careful. Sam was right. Whoever wanted those weapons is still out there. They want to do something bad.”
“I will be. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to steal some guns.”
“It’s not just guns in there. Maybe you got a point. Maybe they want something else in there,” said Dean. 
“We’ll bring it up tomorrow. Tonight let’s try to relax okay?”
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.”
“Tomorrow’ll be better Dean, I promise.”
_________
A/N: Read the final part coming soon!
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novelconcepts · 3 years
Note
The night Dani sees Peter Quint, a blackout happens during the storm. The officers say that it's not safe to stay there in the middle of a storm and without a way to talk to the police if necessary. Hannah and the kids go to Owen's house. Jamie offers a ride, her little flat, clothes and a bath (since crazy Dani decided to run after Peter during the storm).
There's just one bed prompt. Maybe a small couch or chair.
They listen, which is frankly more than Dani expected when Hannah insisted on calling the police. She suspects it has less to do with the Peter Quint of it all, and more to do with the lightning strike, the cataclysm of rain, an old house plunged into deep black. No phone lines, the officers point out with weary expressions that say they are not certain Peter Quint is truly a danger--but Lord Wingrave is not without a certain amount of authority around these parts, and if any further tragedy should befall his niece and nephew, these men would find themselves overloaded on unpleasant paperwork and worse press. 
Bad reasons, Dani thinks with a scowl. They ought to have gone into this field to help people, not scoff at Hannah’s fear and Dani’s unease. They ought to be doing something, not simply waving them off the property for the night. It’s listening, sort of, but it isn’t hearing. 
She glances at Jamie as the officers speak--directly, she notes, to Owen, as though as the only man among them, he has defaulted to de facto lord of the manor. He looks uncomfortable, rubbing a hand through wet hair; Dani remembers him saying, I was born in Bly, wonders if he went to school with either of the men in slick uniform. 
Jamie doesn’t look uncomfortable. Jamie looks angry. There’s a fire burning in her Dani suspects never entirely went out after this afternoon’s rose debacle, one that might have been tempered if they’d been able to track Quint down outside. But he’s in the wind, the product of long legs and a better awareness of the terrain. Dani, giving chase into a fresh downpour before she could think better of her choices, is still itching at the memory of his long coat vanishing into the dark. 
She’d run into Jamie, instead--full-force, a bone-rattling collision that had sent them both tumbling into the sopping grass. It might have been funny, if not for the echo of Quint’s footfalls dying away.
“If he’s here?” Jamie asks now. “Quint. If he’s still here? What then?”
The officer in charge gives her a brief look, barely long enough to register detail. “If he’s here,” he says boredly, “all the better that you aren’t.”
Jamie grinds her jaw. She seems barely to be containing herself, resisting the impulse to explain in no uncertain terms that this is their home, this place Quint is intruding upon. Their home--Hannah and the kids and Dani, at least--where Quint would be trailing slimy fingers. The idea of that smirking face going through the bedrooms makes Dani shudder. It seems to press Jamie toward an unwise argument. 
Without thinking, Dani reaches out, lays a hand on her shoulder. Jamie’s hair is still dripping, her jacket sodden. Her eyes, catching on Dani’s face, widen a little, her teeth unclenching. 
“You have somewhere to go?” the head officer reiterates, glancing back toward the door as though dreaming of a warm car, a comfortable house far from the manor. Owen nods in Hannah’s direction. 
“Mum won’t mind. Can have a little sleepover.”
“Yes!” Flora perks up. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet, leaning against Miles’ side, but her whole face switches on like a lantern now. “A sleepover!”
“How’s about it, Miles?” Hannah taps him lightly on the head. “A little evening adventure.”
He looks uncertain, but when she ruffles his hair, a slow smile creeps across his face. Dani’s relieved to see it--she’s started to believe Miles is thirty-five in a ten-year-old frame, the weight of so much loss bearing him down like an anchor. He deserves a little fun. 
“And you,” Hannah adds, looking to Dani as if reading her mind. “What do you say to a night off?”
Dani blinks. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necess--”
“Chased a man into the storm,” Hannah interrupts. “Not a decision I’d approve of twice, but it was quite brave. And, forgive me dear, but you look like you could use a proper rest in the aftermath.”
That might be, Dani thinks absently, the nicest way of saying you look like shit I’ve ever heard. 
“I’ll just get cleaned up real quick,” she says, “and then I’ll be perfectly fine to--”
Hannah raises a hand. “I insist. Let Owen and I handle them for the evening.”
Dani opens and closes her mouth several times. What’s the alternative? Is Hannah expecting her to stay here? Here, in a house they’re all carefully not admitting feels much bigger in the dark, huddled around the glow of policeman flashlights? 
“Can crash at my place,” Jamie says, almost gruffly. “If you don't mind the company.”
Hannah looks unsurprised by this offer. Dani feels a little light-headed at the idea. 
“I--I’m all muddy.”
Jamie makes a show of looking down at her own clothes, caked in wet clods of grass, soaked nearly to the skin. She raises her eyebrows in Dani’s direction as if to say, Any more sterling arguments?
Dani has none.
Jamie doesn’t say a word as they load into her truck, Dani trying her best to shrink down to inhabit as limited a space as possible. Her legs ache with the effort of holding her feet aloft, her thighs pressed together to prevent staining the whole seat with grime. Jamie glances in her direction, pulling carefully out onto the road, and Dani could swear she’s trying not to smile.
“Know what I do for a living, don’t you?”
Dani nods. Jamie clears her throat.
“Then should go without saying you’re not the first to track mud into the truck. Relax.”
Embarrassed, Dani does as she’s bid. From the corner of her eye, she sees Jamie’s mouth twitch again--sees Jamie’s hands resting comfortably at ten and two, Jamie’s shoulders slightly rounded as though by holding her posture firm, she can punch a hole through the sheeting rain. She doesn’t seem nervous in the least to be driving through this mess with Dani huddled beside her. 
Jamie, Dani is starting to think, doesn’t get nervous.
Well, that makes one of us. 
She has nothing to be nervous about, is the thing. Chasing a strange man into a storm, racing after him with nothing but a fire poker and a hot protective impulse--that should have made her nervous. Should have scared the shit out of her. And it hadn’t. She’d felt bizarrely well-equipped for the decisions she was making, at the time. Peter Quint, she’d been certain, should have been the nervous one.
But now, sitting with wet hair and mussed clothes beside a woman she’s held barely three conversations with, Dani feels distinctly out of her element. No kids. No easy warmth of a carefully-sewn-together family opening its arms to let her in. Just a truck, rattling along a slick road on its way to a tiny town she’s never set foot in before.
And a woman with wet curls plastered to her forehead, stealing tiny glances at Dani like she’s not quite sure what to do with her.
“Flat’s small,” Jamie says, as if apologizing, as she parks outside a pub that looks older than any establishment in Dani’s hometown. “Don’t need much. But there are no screamin’ kids.”
Flora and Miles aren’t much for screaming without reason, but Dani thinks she takes Jamie’s point all the same. Quiet, Jamie is trying to say. Dani can properly rest here, Jamie is trying to say. Jamie doesn’t mind offering up her space.
“Ready?” The rain is still coming down in a torrent. Jamie’s hand is positioned at the doorhandle, Jamie’s posture strung tight. “Make a break for it on three. One--two--”
They run, damp clothes made soggy all over again, and Dani is surprised to hear herself make a whooping sound of joy as she splashes through puddles. Jamie, she thinks, could move faster--Jamie’s got a runner’s stamina when she puts her mind to it--but she’s jogging along at an easy pace, refusing to leave Dani behind. Her hand catches once on Dani’s sleeve, pulling her to the stairs behind the pub, guiding her up to a door at the top.
“Storms like these,” Jamie says when they’ve tumbled breathlessly into her home, “remind me of bein’ a kid. Sitting in school, hoping the power’d go so they’d send us home early.”
“Did it ever happen?” Dani wraps her arms around herself, trying not to shiver, trying not to drip too expansively across the scored floorboards. Jamie grins.
“Once. I was seven. Spent the whole day out in it anyway, caught the worst cold of my life. Best goddamn day a kid could want.” 
She looks so at home here, as Dani watches her pull off her boots, drape her jacket lazily over a chair, stride around turning on lights. At the manor, Jamie is casual enough, rarely inclined to rush or worry, but here, it’s instantly clear she knows every creak in the floor, every stubborn lightswitch, every inch of a domain that is entirely Jamie. 
A domain she has, for no reason at all, opened up to Dani tonight. The reality of it crashes home all at once, landing hard. Jamie barely knows her, and still is willing to give Dani a place to stay. Jamie barely knows her, and still is holding out a gray towel and a bundle of clothes, her smile crooked.
“Thought you might like to get out of those.”
A spike of warmth makes its way up Dani’s spine, settling somewhere around her ears. She crushes it down, forcing herself to accept the sweats and t-shirt with a grateful smile of her own.
“Thank you. Honestly, you didn’t have to do any of this--”
“The rain,” Jamie says easily, “is the fun part. The cold, not so much. Bath’s this way.”
Bathroom, Dani assumes she means--until Jamie gestures at the little tub, barely big enough for a woman her size. She looks marginally embarrassed for the first time, but it’s a resolute sort of embarrassment, as though Jamie has little patience for it. 
“Not much,” she says. “But still better than catching ill. Take however long you like.”
Dani watches her back out of the room, a tumble of unfamiliar emotions in her chest. Someone offering up everything--home, clothes, bathtub--without asking for something in return is strange. Someone doing that much and then leaving, peaceable as the turn of a new day, is unheard of. She hesitates, waiting at the closed door for signs that Jamie will change her mind--or knock, having thought of something else Dani might need--and nothing comes. This room has become, so long as Dani wants it, her space. Jamie will take it back only when Dani’s finished. 
Unwelcomely, she tries to imagine Eddie doing this very thing. Eddie, who only refrains from haunting her European adventures with postcard and phone call because he has no idea how to find her. Eddie, who would think the offer of clothes and a hot bath automatically come with other perks, and who would smile as he stepped in to collect like he couldn’t imagine her wanting to be left alone. 
She shakes her head. Eddie is gone, and she is here, and Jamie isn’t him. Is so unlike him, in fact, it’s hard to imagine them standing in the same room.
And why, some little part of her pipes slyly up, are you comparing them in the first place? 
She shivers, turning on the water, letting it run as hot as possible before sinking in. She leans her head back against a wadded-up washcloth, surveying the simplicity of the bathroom--single toothbrush, single cup for water, a minute assortment of hairbrush, hair ties, sunscreen. There is a dried rose framed beside the door, a small bunch of purple-and-white flowers she can’t name in a tiny windowsill vase. 
It’s all very discreet, all very Jamie. To look at it with this much freedom, to be trusted alone in a space that has belonged to no one else, makes her heart pound.
She’s only being nice. And so what? What does it matter? 
It matters. Even if she never says so, even if she never lets it out of her heart, Dani can’t deny that it matters. Like it mattered watching Jamie walk into the kitchen earlier this week, glancing at her with an easy raise of brows like she was thinking, Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us. 
Jamie, calling her Poppins, telling her she’s doing great, offering her flat without a second’s pause. None of it warranted. None of it asked for. All of it so incredibly welcome.
She stays in the bath until the shivers ease out, carefully soaping her hair with the little bottle of shampoo on the windowsill. A different scent and brand than her own, and as she’s rinsing clean, she realizes she will smell like Jamie now. If for only a night, her hair--and the clothes Jamie gently pressed into her hands--will hold just a little bit of the gardener’s influence. 
The warmth she’s beginning to attribute to Jamie sweeps through her again at the idea. That, and the awareness that these are Jamie’s things hugging her body. Jamie’s belongings, offered up like she feels not the least bit possessive about her living space. Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us. 
“Warm?” Jamie asks when she finally steps back out of the bathroom. Her hair is still wet, though she’s changed into a clean white shirt and sweatpants of her own. Dani nods, confused when Jamie grins. 
“What?”
“I think,” Jamie says placidly, “this is the first time I’ve seen you out of pastels. Suits you.”
Dani glances down. The threadbare black t-shirt bears a jagged white London Calling in peeling letters. She can’t help smiling.
“Maybe I’m a secret punk fan.”
“Are you?” Jamie sounds interested. Dani shakes her head.
“Sorry, no. Always open to learning, though.”
Here it is again: that funny, twisting feeling in her stomach that says she is at home��with Jamie. That Jamie is easy and warm, despite the anger simmering somewhere deep down and a tendency toward cropping her sentences with swear words. That Jamie has opened her home to Dani only because Jamie has opened to her, on some level neither of them is entirely sure how to approach. 
“Thank you,” she says, because it’s easier than putting this feeling into words. “For all of this. You didn’t have to.”
Jamie shrugs. “Wanted to. You haven’t had an easy couple of days. Sometimes, a little quiet goes a long way.”
She’s seated on the arm of the couch, bare feet dangling an inch off the floor. Looking at her, Dani can’t entirely wrap her mind around the idea that she’s only known this woman for a couple of days. That she doesn’t, in fact, know much of anything about her at all. 
And still, when Jamie rises and begins arranging pillow and blanket on the couch, Dani’s stomach performs a backflip she’d never come close to feeling with Eddie.
“That’s really kind of you,” she says, the words a blind effort to distract from her trembling hands. “I really don’t need much, you don’t have to go to any trouble--”
Jamie glances over her shoulder. “No trouble. Bed’s just that way.”
Dani turns to look. Sure enough, behind a pulled-back curtain, she can just make out Jamie’s mattress and frame. “I--I mean, I won’t be bothering you, if that’s what you--”
“What?” Straightening, Jamie frowns. “No, I mean, it’s yours. Take it. I sleep on the couch half the goddamn time anyway, it’s no--”
“I am not,” Dani interrupts, “taking your bed, Jamie.”
Not since her last argument with Miles has she been engaged in such a standoff. Jamie, still holding a pillow, looks ready to chain herself to the couch. Dani, heady with the inescapable awareness of Jamie’s shampoo rinsed out of her own hair, can’t have that. It’s too much. Clothes and space and ride--all of that, she can accept. But foisting Jamie from her own bed?
“I’m not doing it,” she says. Her arms are folded, her mouth pulling into a smile she can’t for her life shake. “I’m told I'm very stubborn, so you might as well just let me have that couch now.”
“I--” For the first time all night, Jamie seems to be at a loss. “I’m--aiming for chivalry, here, Poppins.”
“You’ve been nothing less,” Dani assures her. “A white knight, really. But I’m afraid this is where I have to draw the line.”
“I sleep on it all the time.”
“So, it’s my turn.”
Jamie’s whole face seems on edge of some kind of collapse--though into laughter or upset, Dani can’t begin to guess. She has a brief flash of possibility, the two of them standing on either side of the couch all night, arguing well into daylight over who ought to take the proper night’s sleep.
“You’ve got kids to handle in the morning,” Jamie says reasonably, proving her point.
“You spent all day working in the sun,” Dani volleys in return. She thinks for a moment, then adds, “Also, I knocked you into a puddle earlier, and you didn’t get a nice warm bath.”
“Didn’t need one.” Jamie looks exasperated. “Poppins, come on. This doesn’t have to be a big bloody deal.”
It doesn’t, Dani agrees. It really doesn’t. All Jamie has to do is step out of the way, step behind that curtain, put herself to bed where she belongs.
Or, alternatively--
It’s coming out of her mouth before she can stop it. Before she can run through all the reasons not to suggest this very thing. Before she can pin down the butterflies having a dogfight in her stomach and make a decision based in good judgment. 
“Look, if you’re that committed to making me sleep in the bed, come join me.”
Jamie nearly drops the pillow. Her calm has utterly vacated the flat, leaving behind a woman who looks--if Dani isn’t much mistaken--much nearer to frantic than she’s ever seen Jamie before. Much nearer to the kind of nervous Dani had been on the ride over. 
“I,” she says. “That--I shouldn’t--”
“It’s the best compromise,” Dani says, trying to sound reasonable. Trying to sound as though the invitation to share Jamie’s bed isn’t making her entire body run with sudden electricity. “Neither of us is very big, I’m sure we can fit.”
“I’m--sure we can.” Jamie is grimacing. Jamie looks pained. If she had an elegant way out, Dani would take it back simply to erase that look from Jamie’s face, a look that says Jamie would rather sleep in her tiny bathtub than wherever Dani is. 
Elegant way out, she can’t find, and she’s tired. Tired, and buzzing with nerves, and somehow, the au pair wins out over all possible variants of Dani Clayton. “It isn’t that bad an idea,” she says, her voice steady. “I don’t even snore.”
This breaks something open between them. She can’t put her finger on just what it is, or why, but suddenly Jamie is laughing, and Dani is grinning, and she knows the stalemate is at its end. It’s been too long a night. There’s just no point.
“Here,” she adds, settling at the edge of the bed, watching Jamie switch off the lights and creep closer as though trying not to startle a skittish animal. “I’ll lay right on the edge, you won’t even have to know I’m here--”
“Don’t be silly,” Jamie says. She hesitates; Dani wonders if she’s giving a final chance for Dani to shoo her away, to choose a night spent alone after all. She thumps the bedspread with a flat palm, staring meaningfully at Jamie until the mattress sinks beneath the weight of au pair and gardener alike. 
“See?” she can’t stop herself saying. “We fit.”
Jamie stares at her, a lingering gaze Dani couldn’t decipher on her best day. She opts to ignore it, stretching out under the rumpled covers. Beside her, Jamie slides a hand beneath her head, staring up at the ceiling. 
“Not so bad,” Dani says, wishing she could shut up, wishing she could stop thinking--about Jamie’s head on the pillow beside her, about Jamie’s scent sunk into this pillow, about the indent of Jamie’s body in this old mattress where maybe no one else has ever lain. Jamie makes a low sound in her chest. 
“Long day.”
“So long.” Was it only this morning Dani was having a small panic attack, the strain of a new job on top of familiar guilt too heavy to bear? Was it only this afternoon she’d grabbed Jamie’s shoulder, pulled her back from storming off to skin Miles alive?
Was it really only this evening she’d stalked out after Peter Quint, crashed headlong into Jamie, listened to police officers warn them all away from the manor in a blackout?
Jamie clears her throat. Dani’s starting to think it’s a nervous habit--Jamie seems to do it only around her. Why on earth would I make her nervous? “Comfortable?” she asks the ceiling. Dani nods. 
In the dark, the bed seems smaller. The pillows are touching, the blankets bridging the brief gap between Jamie’s right leg and Dani’s left. In the dark, Jamie’s breath is audible, the smell of rain and shampoo and clean clothes twisting together into a single knot. 
In the dark, Dani thinks, they could be anyone. Not gardener and au pair, but anyone, bound by a single unpredictable night. 
She wonders if they should talk--about Peter Quint, about the tension of the evening, about the kids, or the roses, or any number of little odd moments around the manor. She wonders if Jamie expects her to ask questions--who Quint is, what he was to Rebecca Jessel, what he might be doing skulking around the house. 
She can’t quite find it in her. It’s too warm, too soft, the silence as inviting as the rustle of Jamie’s borrowed clothes against her skin. Laying in the dark, Jamie’s foot nearly touching her own, listening to the storm pound the windowpanes, Dani is breathing easier than she has in months. 
“I’m glad,” she says quietly, “you’re here.”
Jamie’s head rustles the pillowcase, turning to look at her. “Yeah?”
Dani smiles. “Yeah. I can’t explain it, but I feel...safer.” Something sharpens behind her ribcage, something that begs her to add, With Hannah, with Owen, with the kids, too. She doesn’t. It’s true, but it’s also not really what she means. 
“He doesn’t know where to find you,” Jamie says, and for a moment, Dani wonders how she could possibly be talking about Eddie. Then Jamie adds, “I hate that fucker. So does Owen. Everyone is safe tonight.”
Right. Peter Quint. Of course. “I’m glad,” Dani repeats. She feels the mattress shift as Jamie carefully settles in. “Jamie?”
“Mm?”
Too many things to say. Too many questions to ask. Too many of those butterflies winging around as Jamie’s elbow bumps her, as Jamie’s breath brushes her cheek. She shuts her eyes, the simple image of Jamie’s gaze inches away too much to handle. 
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Poppins,” Jamie murmurs. And though Dani’s heart is racing, though her skin is hot, though the storm outside is brutal and Jamie’s bed is much smaller than she’d thought--she finds herself relaxing. Finds herself thoughtlessly shifting to a more comfortable position on her side. Finds herself, even, leaning in toward Jamie’s warmth as the sound of her breathing shallows. 
For the first time in what feels like years, Dani Clayton sleeps.
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Companions React: Sole Finds Their Pre-War Teddy Bear
The set up:
Scavenging wasn’t as easy of a job as some made it out to be. Sanctuary was running low on spare materials and had searched for someone willing to go out into the junk piles of the wasteland and bring home materials that could be turned into something useful.
That’s how Sole and their companion found themselves picking through piles of what appeared to be garbage, climbing over refrigerators long out of service and cracking children’s toys. Skeletons of lives past, remnants of individuals who wouldn’t be remembered in a world that left them behind. Sole stood at the top of the pile, a hand over their eyes to scan the wreckage, when they spotted something they thought long gone and took off running.
Cait:
Though she’d refuse to admit it later, Cait started when Sole took off, scrambling down from their perch at the top of the junk pile, dead set on a goal she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Their vision had locked onto something and it appeared they weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted. “Hey! Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?” Cait scrambled after them, boots slipping over car parts and rusted metal as she fought to keep up.
Her shout didn’t stop Sole, though they did skid to a stop at the bottom of a pile, tossing scraps of metal aside without a care in the world. Cait kept her distance to avoid being caught in the crossfire and only stepped forward when Sole straightened up, something clutched tightly in their hands. Nearly slipping and grouchier than before, she picked her way through the mess to stand in front of Sole and rolled her eyes. “Ya really nearly killed yourself over that garbage?”
Sole looked up, their expression vulnerable and a little bit guilty. Gently, they brushed some dirt off the teddy bear they held, though it didn’t do much to fix it’s battered appearance. Somehow Sole looked even more haunted, like they were seeing into a world Cait had barely a grasp on. “This is mine.” They whispered.
“What?”
“It’s mine. From before the war. I didn’t think… how the hell did it survive?”
Cait’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fockin’ hell, that thing’s more durable than most people.”
Sole laughed, though their mind still seemed so far away as they traced the edge of the teddy’s ear with the tip of their finger. Cait moved closer to them, swearing harshly when she nearly slipped and fell again. One of its eyes was missing and the threads were coming loose from it’s face, but there was something about Sole’s affection for it that made Cait see something cute. “It’s survived, I’ll give it that.” Her tone was begrudging, but deep down, she knew if someone ever tried to take that thing away from Sole, there’d be hell to pay.
Curie:
Curie’s worry spiked when Sole nearly slipped and fell. The potential for injury was great amongst the piles of garbage; who knew what laid under a poorly supported tarp. Concern running high, Curie climbed her way after her runaway companion, carefully testing each place for proper support before putting her weight on it. The going was slow and by the time she reached their side, Sole had already found and dug out what they were chasing after.
It was a teddy bear, covered in grime and layers of dirt from being out in the Wasteland. “I’m sorry, Mx, but what is the significance of this… thing?” It was difficult for her to hide her distaste at the object, which could barely be seen past the filthiness.
“It used to be mine. Still is, I guess. I never thought I’d see it again.” Sole’s voice was barely above a whisper as they cradled the stuffed animal like a child.
“The garbage?” Curie was confused.
“It’s not-” Sole pressed their lips together, suppressing their distress.
The possibility of their teddy surviving the war was unbelievably low, and yet both of them had managed to beat the odds. They were overcome with a wave of emotion. Something so fragile and seemingly insignificant to everyone else had managed to survive and they had never identified with something so much since they had awoken in this nightmare.
Curie managed to pick up on the mood despite her confusion and folded her hands together. “There’s a river just down the hill if you’d like to clean it off.” She stated quietly.
Sole nodded, smile a little watery, and looked up at Curie. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Lead the way, Curie.”
Danse:
“Soldier! Don’t be so reckless!” Danse shouted after them, struggling with whether or not to go after them. Climbing in wreckage wasn’t the easiest in power armor.
He watched them charge down the side of the garbage pile, skidding to a stop at the bottom and beginning to rip the piles apart with no regard to how it may affect the stability of what they were standing on. Danse huffed, having never seen them acting like that, and began making his way over to them, careful to place his weight in stable areas, lest he become part of the metal scrap in the piles. He was beyond astonished to see them bent over a teddy bear that seemed to have gone through the wringer. “Is this what you took off over.” He scoffed in disbelief.
“This belongs to me.” They whispered, still crouched over it, nearly shaking.
Danse failed to understand what they were saying until they looked up at him with teary eyes. It didn’t just belong to them, it belonged to them before the war. He suddenly understood their reaction, and was flustered at the way he’d reacted. He should’ve known Sole wouldn’t take off over something insignificant, especially without communicating to him. He looked over to the horizon before glancing back down at them, where they were stroking the teddy bear’s fur, mesmerized. “Put it in your backpack. We still need to work while we have daylight.” Too harsh, he thought. “We can clean it up when we get back to Sanctuary.” A little better.
Sole grinned up at him and wiped a stray tear off their face, inhaling as they stood and hugged it tightly to their chest. They muttered something to themself before swinging their backpack to the side and adjusting the teddy bear “comfortably” in it. Danse looked away to suppress the affectionate smile that crept across his face.
Deacon:
“Oh, shit. Why are we taking off, Boss?” Deacon was a little alarmed at their sudden movement.
In an attempt to keep up he nearly slid and ended up on his ass. He waved his arms comically for a moment to keep his balance and remain upright before charging after them just as recklessly. He wasn’t one to question why someone was running. The wasteland was a run first, ask questions later type of place, and he’d survived so far with that policy.
When they skidded to a stop and began digging, he stumbled to slow down and came to a stop behind them. He couldn’t quite see over their shoulder, but when they let out a victorious shout and the scraps stopped flying, he leaned forward. They were clutching a teddy bear. “We aren’t gonna get much spare cloth from that garbage, I’ll be honest, Boss.” He said skeptically.
They stood and whirled around, a broad grin on their face as they held the teddy bear out. “It’s mine!” The joy on their face was contagious, but he was still confused.
“What do you mean?”
“From before the War! I can’t believe it survived.” Their tone turned to one of wonder as they rubbed their thumb over where one of its eyes had fallen off.
Deacon couldn’t help his chuckle. “It is cute, I do have to admit. Let’s get it cleaned up though.”
Gage:
“What the fuck?” Gage’s head snapped towards where Sole had taken off, tracking them through the crumbling piles of garbage that scattered under their weight.
He groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the sky. He’d sworn they were smarter than the last Overboss and yet he could almost predict them slipping and breaking their neck over whatever they were chasing. God knows it couldn’t be that important. With a huff, he dropped his cigarette and began slowly following after them.
Maybe it was the way they were desperately tossing junk aside, or the fact that he’d never seen Sole act like this, but he was almost wary of coming up behind them. He wasn’t trying to take a shard of glass to his good eye. He waited for them to stop scrambling before he came up beside them and caught a glimpse at what they were holding. “A fucking teddy bear? Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes, trying to find patience somewhere in the back of his brain.
“I… Gage this is mine.”
“You- what?”
“It’s mine. From before the war. I’ve had this since I was five.”
“How the hell did this fucker live longer than most people do?”
Sole laughed and hugged the teddy bear tightly. Then, they held it up next to him, Gage dodging to avoid being touched by the filthy stuffed animal. “You guys look exactly the same. Teddy bears covered in dirt.”
“You better move your ass before I kick the shit out of you.” He grumbled, pushing past them to hide the slight flush on his face.
Hancock:
“Hey! Sole!” Hancock was frozen in place, mildly stunned by their reaction to whatever they’d seen.
Yanking at his coattails as they got caught on a sharp piece of metal, he began the trek to catch up to them. Luckily, they stopped not far from where they’d taken off, kneeling in a pile of discarded clothing. Pieces of clothing were tossed behind them carelessly before they stopped and grabbed something. Hancock caught up to them shortly after, boots slipping against the slimy hood of a car before he made it down to stand next to them. “What’s going on Sole.”
They turned and stood and began looking between him and the teddy bear expectantly. “You could’ve cracked your head open runnin’ over here, Sunshine. For a piece of grimy trash?”
Sole shook their head and flipped over a tag to show him before they looked back up, even more expectant. “It was mine!” The tag on the bear’s ear was nearly shredded, but once pushed together, had their name in smudged handwriting.
Hancock felt like an ass for calling their teddy bear a piece of trash, but to be fair, they had never argued when they saw previous teddy bears laying on the side of the road as they travelled. He sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry about calling it trash, Sole. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay, I get it. I probably would’ve too.” They laughed, their fond gaze still turned to the teddy bear.
“Hey! We should get a matching hat for the bear. It can be the mascot of Goodneighbor.”
Haylen:
Haylen groaned, struggling to keep up with Sole once they’d taken off. She already was slightly behind, on the other side of the mountain of trash as they scrambled their way down, and was fighting to not get her foot caught and go tumbling down into the piles. She managed to get to Sole’s side without major incident, though she was sporting a new scrape on her palm by the time she stopped next to them.
The sun was already starting to set, but it wasn’t hard to see what Sole was holding so cheerfully in their arms. A teddy bear, covered in dirt and God knows what else. “Christ, Sole. You could’ve gotten hurt and I can’t carry you back home. Why the hell did you do that for garbage?”
“It’s not garbage. Haylen, this is mine.” Sole looked up at her with an expression Haylen had never seen from them before.
“What do you mean?” Her tone softened.
“It’s mine. I had this before… before.”
“Oh, Sole.” She sighed, kneeling and putting her hand on their shoulder.
They blew out a shaky breath, turning the teddy bear over to examine it carefully. Haylen reached over and brushed some of the loose dirt off in an attempt to clean it despite the obvious staining. It didn’t do much, but Sole turned and smiled at her appreciatively. “Put it in my backpack so it gets home safe, okay? We have to keep moving, though.”
MacCready:
At least they weren’t standing at the top of a hill, possibly the worst place to be when a trained sniper could be looking for a target. However, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head as they took off towards wherever, seemingly blind to possible danger. With a grumbled “I don’t get paid enough for this” he started to go after them.
It was a bit of a hike and by the time he reached them, he was sweating. Once he stopped he leaned against a rickety storage cabinet, fingers mentally crossed it wouldn’t topple over and take him with it, as he stared down at the teddy bear in their hands. With a huffed breath, “What was that.”
“Sorry, I just-” Sole stared in wonder at the little bear. “I thought this was gone forever.”
“What do you mean?”
“This was mine. Pre-war. I… it was a gift for my third birthday and I thought I’d never see it again.”
Something about the look on their face made him pause in his distaste for their impulsivity and the tattered cloth bear that rested in their grip. He sighed and dropped into a crouch next to them and took the teddy bear from their hands. He turned it over, examining the damage, and began brushing what he could off of the bear. It was disgusting, but salvageable. “Alright. I’ll get the sewing kit out once we get back to Sanctuary.”
Nick:
“Hey, kid!”
He watched them take off in disbelief, alarmed at what could be going through their head to go charging off so quickly. It was difficult to navigate the wrecked landscape but he managed to make his way across the landfill and get to where Sole was cradling something in their arms. With a reluctant curiosity, Nick leaned over and took a look. “You’re holding garbage, Sole.” His voice was unimpressed and confused.
“It’s not garbage.” They protested, meeting his glowing, yellow eyes. “It’s my teddy bear. I’ve had it since I was young!”
Nick tilted his head, trying to picture what the teddy bear could look like before the war had taken its owner too far away to take care of it. Despite the layers of grossness, he could see something Sole would label theirs affectionately. That thought stuck with him as he spoke. “Look at you, always finding those that need you. Should we go get it cleaned up?” 
Old Longfellow:
“What- ah, damn’t. Where are you takin’ off to, cap’n?” Longfellow’s voice was gravelly, carrying across the wasted landscape.
Sole paid no mind and kept running, determined to reach their destination at any cost. He felt his knee creak as he climbed over the rusty parts and pieces of pre-war buildings, remnants of lives past. He cursed under his breath, but kept climbing after them, hoping the creaking, shabby structures would hold together as he moved. Eventually, he got to them. “Really? For a piece of trash, Sole?”
Sole shook their head vigorously. “This is my teddy bear. From before the bombs. I… Jesus.” They looked up at him as if they’d had the breath knocked out of them.
Longfellow looked at it carefully, understanding that now wasn’t the time to be so brash. They reached out for a hand up and he gave it to them, gripping their arm tightly as they stood, careful not to lose their balance on the shifting scraps. Once they were properly balanced, they reached out, teddy in hand in front of them. “I want you to hang onto it for now, okay?” It was hard to say no to them when they looked at him like that. With grumbling reluctance, he took the teddy and settled it in his backpack.
Piper:
“Blue?! Be careful!” Piper yelled after them, preparing to follow them by heaving the strap of her backpack further onto her shoulder.
She’d spent more time than ideal dodging traders as she chased after Nat when they were younger, so she’d gotten skill in quickly finding the best footing. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace as long as she didn’t stay on one leaning piece of discarded trash for too long. Nimble as ever, it wasn’t long before she was stopping at Sole’s side.
They had dug in the pile of junk, dirt coating their hands with tiny flecks of rust for decoration, and pulled out a weak looking scrap of cloth. No, not just a scrap of cloth. It was a teddy bear, well worn and overdue by way too long for a good washing. “Sole, I can’t believe you ran like that for trash. What’s going on?”
“It’s mine.” Their voice was hushed, as if they were sharing a secret.
“From… no way.” Piper got a good look at it and yeah, it certainly looked like it had been around for hundreds of years.
“Yeah.”
They looked up at her in awe, a childlike grin on their face, reminding her of her own baby sister. With a reassuring smile, she patted them on the back. “No worries, Blue. We can get it back home and fix it up in no time, I bet. I’ve got some old recipes for stain remover we can try out, if you want.”
Preston:
“General? General!” He shouted after them, quickly moving into action to keep up with them.
Preston was never more than a few steps behind them at all times, and that wasn’t going to change now. Despite things sliding out from under their feet, Preston managed to continue finding the footing to leap after them, nearly colliding with their back as they slid to a stop and kneeled at the base of a pile. He got to his knees next to them to see what they were doing.
When they began prying something out from under a scrap of metal, he lifted it to ease their way, despite his confusion. They yanked out a teddy bear that may have been light at some point, but was now coated in just about everything you could find in the wasteland, and missing it’s tail. Sole let out a disbelieving laugh, their jaw dropped from the shock. “What’s going on General? What is this other than garbage?”
“It’s mine! Holy shit, I can’t believe it survived!”
“From before the war?” Preston’s own eyes widened.
Sole nodded eagerly, the joy from this miracle evident on their face. He’d never seen the General so elated and took it in stride. “Sturges should be able to work his magic once we get back to Sanctuary. We’ll keep it safe until then, okay?”
Travis:
“S-Sole?” Travis was hesitant to take off after them, unsure if any part of this was safe.
His steps were probably even more cautious than they needed to be as he made his way across the landfill, cringing every time metal slid against metal once he’d shifted his weight off of it. It was a good bit before he got to where Sole had launched themself towards, and by then, they’d already stood and clutched whatever they were holding to their chest. Upon further examination, he realized it was a teddy bear. “Uhm, is that… supposed to be a teddy bear? It looks like trash, to be honest.” 
Sole’s gaze caught him off guard when they looked up at him with excitement shining so bright it could rival the stars. He sucked in a deep breath and looked away, examining the teddy bear again. “It’s mine! Travis, I had this before the bombs dropped!” 
“Oh… oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call it trash-” He became flustered with himself, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushed red.
“Don’t worry about it.” Sole laughed quietly. “It does look pretty bad, doesn’t it? We should be able to fix it up, anyway. Nothing’s past saving.”
Travis relaxed in relief when they brushed off his comment and returned a small smile. 
X6-88:
“Mx. Mx!”
They’d taken off without a word after an already pointless mission. Impatience was thrumming across his body, all the way down to his fingertips, which twitched on the handle of his baton. Lips pursed in annoyance, he moved to follow them, taking his time, considering they’d stopped by the time he got moving. Sure, he was going to protect them, but if they were going to get themself into dumb situations by taking off recklessly, they could handle themself until he got there.
Once he’d made his way closer he started looking for what had set them off so badly. He couldn’t see anything of significance amongst the discarded trash. The urge to reprimand them rose in his throat, but he suppressed the insult. “What’s going on?”
“I found it! I can’t believe it’s still here!” They laughed, looking up at him with bright eyes.
When X6-88 looked down he found a tattered, nasty teddy bear looking back at him; seemingly the perfect representation of how he viewed the wasteland. “Mx, I don’t think this is an appropriate use of our time.”
“Six, you don’t understand. This was mine. Before the war.” Their tone pushed him to understand.
He paused. It definitely needed some help, but obviously this was something important that he was somehow struggling to understand. He really wasn’t one for anything sentimental, but he’ found that sometimes entertaining these ideas would play in his favor. This must be one of those times; Sole may get upset if he were to dismiss their determination to make him understand. “I’m sure we have something at the Institute to… repair this.”
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amerrierworld · 3 years
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Babysitter (pt 10)
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Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Summary: You and Tony have a discussion as Hela and Loki sneak around. 
Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Loki, Tony, Steve, Rhodey
Word Count: 1,813
Warnings: nothing? feels!
The New Avengers Facility was by far the most luxurious hideout you'd ever encountered. It was also incredibly large and perfect for aimless exploring. 
The Avengers, though concerned for you once you arrived, quickly lost focus of you as they began flitting about their machines and computers to see what the hell was happening around the world. 
You were given your own room, fully furnished with a well-stocked mini fridge. There was a camera situated outside by the door, so they’d know if you went in or out.
Normally you would’ve protested the house arrest, but you couldn’t be bothered suddenly. You were numb. 
The Facility was massive. It varied from small cozy lounge areas to large open spaces for training, meetings, and all sorts of experimental engineering. 
You were curled up in one of the tinier corners on a brown leather sofa. The rest of the place just seemed so pristine and neat and horrifically modern, no offense to Tony’s design tastes. There was a digital fireplace and heater, yet the 3D projection of the actual fire made it seem real. Only thing missing was the smell of burning wood. 
“Thought you’d have run off by now,” grunted a voice behind you. Tony had come into the lounge. You kept looking at the fire.
“I have no where else to go, Tony,” you said bluntly. Over the past few days you’d been reading up more and more from the news, contacting people you hadn’t talked to in ages. There were a few distant friends and relatives who’d been taken by the Blip, and your heart ached at the ones you hadn’t been able to see one last time. 
“Besides,” you sighed, breaking your gaze from the fire as Tony came to sit across from you, “none of you would have let me leave even if I really tried.”
He leaned back, stretching his body nonchalantly, and you noticed how weary  and thin he actually looked. Dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers seemed to be twitching or twiddling consistently.
“What happened to you?” you muttered. “Why do you look like shit?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, waving his hand, “spent some merry time in space, that’s all. Wasn't planning on being stranded there, but here we are.”
You didn’t ask anything else. Instead you got up, walked to the near sink and pulled out a kettle from the cupboards to make yourself some tea. 
“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Tony said in the silence, twisting in his seat to watch you, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “How on earth did you end up falling head over heels for a psycho?”
You snorted, grabbing a teabag and a mug, “you could ask Pepper the same thing.”
Tony clutched his chest in mock offence, “Ouch. Cold-hearted.”
Grinning, you steeped your tea, and turned around to look at Tony, “it’s not that simple, Stark.”
“No, I think it is,” he said.
“Well fine,” you sighed, slightly exasperated, “she was in my house with me alone, for days. At some point we ended up talking and actually getting to know each other. She opened up to me, and I to her and.. that was it.”
“And how do you know she wasn’t lying to get a way out?”
“She wasn’t. She’d never.”
“But how do you know? Wasn’t it you who always thought you had to give things time? She’s lived for thousands of years, Y/N. You’re a fruit-fly compared to her.”
“Why has this turned into an interrogation?” you snapped. He held up his hands, 
“I’m not interrogating. Just trying to understand.”
“Why did Jane fall in love with Thor, huh? At the time he was a ridiculous, self-absorbed and mindless God who didn’t know how the hell this world worked. Why did Pepper fall in love with you? A narcissistic millionaire playboy who loves to play games and doesn’t take anything seriously?”
You paced the floor as your tea cooled down, fuming,
“Why the hell does anyone fall in love with anyone, huh? Who gets a fucking say in how they feel? And why do you guys have so little faith in me to trust what I feel? I’ve kept secrets for you, I’ve hidden you in my home, I’ve been a part of so much secrecy, and suddenly when I get a little heart-eyed at someone, you act as if I’ve been brainwashed.”
Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. When you met his eyes, they were a little wider than before, looking at you questioningly. 
“In love, huh?”
You blinked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Uh-huh, you did.”
“N-no, I didn’t, I said I-”
Your face became red, fumbling over your words.
Tony got up from his seat and clapped his hands as he sauntered over to the exit.
“Let’s go sparring, hm? Haven’t done that in a while,” he offered. You tried to cool your cheeks, forgetting about your tea steeping behind you.
“That’s cause I always lose,” you retorted. “You guys work out like your life depends on it. Which... it does.. I guess.”
“Yeah, but look at the state of me,” Tony spread out his arms and did a spin. “I’m feeling like trash. You’ll take me down no problem.”
You doubted that, but followed him anyways. 
-
“Ah, fuck!” Hela swore as another branch tugged at her helmet.
“Will you shut up?” Loki hissed, crouching down and peeking through the trees. “God, you’re even more infuriating than Thor!”
Hela was breathing heavily, aching, grumpy. 
“You really are a pain when you’re not around Y/N, aren’t you? You’re not going to massacre all the Avengers just because you’re peeved, right?”
“Be silent, filth,” she spat. Her brother only rolled his eyes. “What do you see?”
“I thought you wanted me to be silent.”
Hela whacked the back of his head and he grimaced, 
“Alright, alright. Look yourself, it’ll be hard to get in undetected.”
Hela peered over his shoulder. He was right; there wasn’t a lot of hiding spaces or shadows. Well-lit with open spaces, the modern-style building looked quite distasteful to Hela. She pulled a face, both in annoyance and disgust,
Loki chuckled, “I’m glad you hate it too.”
“Shut up,” Hela hissed, before scurrying off further into the trees to explore the perimeter. 
“Where are you- Hela!” Loki whispered hoarsely, hurrying after her. 
She was looking for weak spots, places with no cameras, a spot to sneak in. But she also had no idea where you were, and with the vastness of the buildings she worried if she’d even find you on time.
“Hela,” Loki hissed. She shushed him again, eyes searching the upper floors.
“Hela!” 
“What?”
“Look,” Loki pointed downwards. A little further in the distance outside, surrounded by well lit lights, stood you and that iron-armoured man, both with wooden sticks in your hands, the length of a short blade, thick enough to wrap your whole hand around it.
“Come on, let’s go back, before they see us,” Loki hissed, grabbing Hela’s shoulder. “At least we know she’s here.”
But Hela couldn’t move. You were wearing dark grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, and sturdy boots. You looked tired, but were a vision to her. The man with you wasn’t wearing his armour, and suddenly looked a lot less threatening.
Loki watched, amazed, as his sister’s armour shimmered. The horns disappeared from her head and her cape faded until she was only in black, blending into the darkness.
She dared another step closer.
“Widen your stance,” the man said, waving the stick around. “Now try to attack.”
Hela watched you practice, your grip a bit clumsy and your stance a bit wobbly, but you were determined. She recalled the day she pulled a fork on you as a weapon, and winced a bit at the memory of the fearful, defenceless look in your eyes.
“Like that?” she heard you say, bending your knees and lowering your core.
“Good, but stay light on your feet, otherwise you can’t dodge.”
Your voice was like music to her ears, and hot tears prickled at her eyes. She missed you. So much.
“Stark, what the hell are you trying to do?” two more men had appeared. One blonde, and large, wearing a tight shirt and jeans. The other, dark, dressed in similar casual clothes.
“Gentlemen! Welcome to this exclusive defence lesson.”
“You’re by far the worst defence teacher out of all of us, Stark. Y/N won’t learn shit from you.”
“You wound me, Captain.”
Hela watched you shake hands with the other.
“Oh, Y/N, this is our friend Rhodey, also known as the War Machine.”
“Pleased to meet you, despite the.. unideal circumstances,” the newcomer shook your hand respectfully and flashed a smile. Hela flared with jealousy, and subconsciously bared her teeth.
“Easy,” Loki whispered.
The four of you paired up, you against Tony, but watching Captain’s instructions as he sparred with Rhodey. 
You were not held under lock and key, and Hela worried a moment. Did you go willingly with them after all? Did you forget about her? Was it foolish to even attempt a rescue?
Your laugh rang into the night as Rhodey tackled a distracted Steve, and both dread and joy filled Hela’s heart.
“Okay, try again,” Tony encouraged you. You swung at him a few times as he blocked and dodged. 
Then, you saw her in the darkness. A flash of green eyes, and Tony took your distraction to his advantage, swiping your leg from under you and you fell to the ground with a thud.
Hela nearly shot out of the tree line to protect you if Loki hadn’t stopped her. Then she heard a groan and chuckle coming from you,
“I told you I’d lose.”
“Don’t get distracted then, kiddo.” Tony held out his hand and hoisted you up. Hela growled at the camaraderie and slunk back in the shadows. “What were you looking at?”
He began to turn to follow your eyeline, and you paled,
“N-nothing! I- I was daydreaming.” He looked back at you.
“Not a good idea to daydream while fighting, Y/N,” Steve said.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not used to this, you know?”
“It’s about time you were taught,” Tony clapped your shoulder. 
“You want to learn anything from the War Machine himself?” Steve asked, nodding at Rhodey.
“Oh, I-I’d love to. But, maybe tomorrow?” you suggested, desperately trying to avoid looking at Hela in the distance. “I’m quite.. tired.”
The men seemed to agree and chatted as they headed back into the building. Tony swiped at Steve as they walked, who promptly tugged the sparring stick from him. 
You hurriedly looked around into the darkness, wanting to see another glimpse, hoping you didn’t imagine it. But when you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you worried if you really had gone insane.
Steve called after you, and your heavy feet carried you back inside to settle for the rest of the night.
A/N: Life is fucking INSANE. only a few chapters left for this!! Don’t ask me about the timeline alterations because me trying to make sense of the canon and trying to make it all fit is making my brain explode!! I hope you like it, love you all!!! Stay safeee
tag list: @midnight-lestrange​ @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill @gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901 @marvels-writings @jadewestwriter​ @thisisanexistentialcrisis​
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sourmochii-v2 · 3 years
Text
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Hahaha how crazy would it be for someone to write a short Kyalin fic where Kya is actually the one who’s scared to get emotionally attached because throughout her years of traveling, everytime she’s gotten attached to someone, they’d leave or she’d go to another place hahahaha how crazy...
Hahahaha...
How crazy....
Would that be....
Yall....
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)....
CW: Drug use and sexual content
  Words: 3,148
     The lights were bright and colourful, and the music was loud. "I can't believe I let you brats drag me here." Lin said to Korra and her friends. "Come on, Lin, it'll be fun!" Korra said. "I doubt it." Lin folded her arms. "And look at how good you look!" Asami gestured to Lin's outfit. She wore a dark green button up with the sleeves rolled up. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black jeans. She kept her metal boots though. "You know what would make it better?" Asami said to Korra. Korra raised an eyebrow, then watched at Asami unbuttoned the first two buttons on Lin's shirt. "Hot damn, you're right." Korra looked Lin up and down. "Can I go home with you tonight, Chief?" Korra joked. Lin scoffed at the two before looking around at the scene. "Ooh, Opal! Let's dance!" Bolin said. "Be careful." Lin said at they walked past her. "Oh, ease up, Aunt Lin. We come here all the time." Opal said.
     Lin maneuvered her way through the crowd of people, trying to find Mako to take her home. She hated being out like this. Instead of Mako, however, she ran into a woman who was taller than her, spilling her drink all over her. "Oh- uh- I'm so sorry, I was just uh-" "It's cool! It happens all the time." She bent the water out of her shirt. Lin locked eyes with the woman. "Kya?" Lin said losing her breath. "Oh. Lin!" Kya said nervously. "How- how long have you been back in-" "Please don't tell Tenzin." Kya said. "Oh my spirits, Kya.. are you high?" Lin asked. "Uh-" Kya rubbed her arm. "No?" She said. "Your eyes are red, Kya. Don't lie to me." Lin said. "How long have you been back?" Lin asked. "A month or so now. I've just been kinda living here, staying away from the family." Kya said. "Kya, are you coming out back?" A guy asked from behind her. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." Kya waved him away. "Sit down, let's catch up." Kya lightly grabbed Lin's hand. "I was actually trying to find Mako to take me home.." Lin looked away. "Lin," Kya squeezed her hand tighter. Lin looked back at Kya and sighed. "Alright." She said. They sat down in a small booth, and Kya asked one of the many people she knew at the club to bring them a couple of drinks.
     "So.. were you gonna tell us you were back?" Lin asked. "Oh, of course. I was just waiting. I didn't want to have to listen to Tenzin's bullshit at eight in the morning as soon as I got here." Kya giggled. "We're you gonna tell me?" Lin asked. Kya's smile faded a bit as she looked down at her drink. "Yeah. Eventually. I've missed you a lot." Kya said. "Yeah well, all the letters you wrote to me sure proved it." Lin said sarcastically. "Lin.. listen, I-" "It's not a big deal. I'm just being a bitch." Lin said with a smirk. Kya nervously giggled. "Don't you have friends waiting for you outback?" Lin asked. "Oh! I do, don't I?" Kya said with a smile. Her and Lin stood up from the booth with their drinks in their hands. "Hey, how about you come out there with me?" Kya smiled. "Not to jump to conclusions but, wouldn't they just run when they saw me?" Lin asked. Kya let out a laugh. "Lin, you're practically unrecognizable without your uniform on." Kya lightly grabbed her hand. "And you look pretty damn good without it too." Kya looked at Lin's attire. Lin tensed up before letting Kya drag her through the crowd.
     They walked into the alley behind the building where, sure enough, was Kya's group of friends, standing in a circle, passing around a lillyweed joint. "Kya, there you are." One of them said. They all seemed younger. Older than Korra and her friends, but younger than her and Kya. Kya put the joint to her lips. "Really, Kya? Right in front of me?" Lin said in a whisper that only her and Kya could hear. "What are you gonna do, arrest me?" Kya asked with a smile. They talked with each other some more, and soon Lin felt a nudge on her shoulder and the joint in her face. "Oh- uh- no thanks." Lin said. Kya reached over and grabbed it. "What, you don't wanna loosen up a bit? I know how stressful your job can be." Kya said with a smirk. Lin took a deep breath in, looking between Kya, and that joint she was holding. "Alright then." Lin said. Kya smiled before handing it to Lin, letting her take a hit.
     Kya and Lin sat on the sidewalk in the alleyway. "Lin?" Kya looked over at her. "Hm?" Lin looked back at her, making Kya bust out laughing. "What's so funny?" Lin asked. "Your eyes are red." Kya smiled at her. "Yeah, well, so are yours." Lin let out a light laugh. "I never thought I'd see the great Chief Beifong stoned." Kya said. "Enjoy it while it lasts, cause it's not happening again." Lin chuckled. "Trust me, I'm enjoying it." Kya said. “Remember the last time I got you high?” Kya asked. “Yeah.” Lin chuckled. “Oh to be sixteen again.” Lin said. “Spirits, that was.. what? Thirty something years ago?” Kya said. “Thirty Six.” Lin said. Kya chuckled before looking at Lin. "You're pretty when you're high." Kya smiled lightly. Lin's face became red as she struggled to look for a reply. How is it that a single woman can make the Chief feel like this? And how it is that the Chief has been able to hide her feelings for decades? It's simply eating her up inside. So much that she couldn't stop herself from leaning in and kissing the water bender. Kya pulled away in shock, and looked at Lin. "Did you.. did you just kiss me.." Kya asked in disbelief. "Yeah.. I hope that's alright." Lin scratched the back of her head nervously. "That's- that's fine." Kya said. Kya's nerves were through the roof. Her hands were getting sweaty. "Can I kiss you again?" Kya froze in place. Can I kiss you again? Is that what she said? Kya looked back over at Lin, and nodded her head. Lin leaned in and kissed her. It started easy, but it became heated within a matter of seconds. Lin pulled back slightly and laughed. "Spirits, I'm so bad at this." She chuckled. "No you're not." Kya reassured her. Lin leaned back in, connecting their lips. Kya could feel Lin's smile against her lips.
     "Chief?" Lin heard behind her. Her and Kya stopped in their tracks. Lin turned around and saw Mako. "Oh- uh.. hey, kid." She said nervously, avoiding eye contact. "I'm gonna go wait outside." Kya whispered to Lin. Lin nodded her head, and Kya walked away. "Who's that?" Mako asked. "Just an old friend." Lin said. "I came to find you to ask if you wanted me to take you home. I know big public places like this aren't really your thing so-" "Actually I'm going home with my friend." Lin said. Thank Raava for the dim lights. I really don’t need Mako seeing me in this state. "With your- your friend?" Mako said. "Yeah. Is that a problem?" Lin asked. "No, not at all, Chief. I just didn't expect this kind of thing from you." Mako said. "Spirits, Mako, I'm not going to hook up with her." Lin rolled her eyes. "No no! That- that isn't what I meant- I- I know you're not that kind of person! I just-" Mako became flustered. He stopped for a second and took in a deep breath. "Just be careful, Chief. And call me if you need anything." Mako sighed. "Thanks, kid." Lin said before going outside. "Ready to go, Chief?" Kya asked. "Yeah. Are you okay to drive?" Lin asked while they walked to Kya's Sato-Mobile. "I can drive perfectly fine when I'm high. I do it all the time." Kya said. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Lin said.
     "Apartment, sweet apartment." Kya said as they walked into her place. "This is nice." Lin said. "Thank you." Kya said. "The bedroom is nicer." Kya said. Lin started getting nervous as she followed Kya back to her room. Lin sat down on Kya's bed as Kya lit an incense. Kya flipped the light switch, then used a remote to turn on the two lamps on either side of her room, both lighting up red. Kya stood in front of Lin and placed her arms around Lin's neck. Lin smiled nervously at her. "Everything okay?" Kya asked. "Yeah, everything's fine. I've just uh.. I haven’t done this kind of thing in a minute." Lin chuckled. Kya smiled at her. She leaned down and kissed Lin a couple times before pushing her back and climbing on top of her. "Trust me, Lin." She smiled at Lin before kissing her again. Lin let her hands glide under Kya's shirt to rest on her bare sides. Kya slowly unbuttoned Lin's shirt as she kissed down her neck.
     Kya unbuckled Lin's belt after leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach. Lin sat up on her elbows and watched as Kya pulled Lin's pants off her legs. Kya kissed Lin above the hem of her underwear, and started sliding them off. When Kya looked up and made eye contact, she smirked, and Lin's breath hitched. "You're obviously really nervous, Lin. Just relax." Kya said in a low voice that sent shivers down Lin's spine. Kya tossed the last piece of Lin's clothing down on the ground.
     Kya placed a hand on Lin's shoulder before pushing her back down on the bed, kissing her in the process. Lay back, Lin. Relax." Kya said. She kissed up Lin's jawline and lightly bit down on her earlobe, "Let me make you feel good, Chief." Kya whispered in Lin's ear. Lin felt Kya's hand slide down her stomach as Kya kissed and sucked on her neck. "Kya.." Lin breathed out when she felt two fingers inside her. "Yes, Linny?" Kya teased. "Don't- don't stop." Lin's breath started becoming faster. "Oh trust me, I don't plan on it." Kya said with a smirk before pumping her fingers faster. Kya saw Lin biting her lip to keep from making noises. Kya pulled her fingers out, causing Lin to gasp. "Why'd you stop?" Lin asked, breathless. "Don't sound so needy, Beifong." Kya said in a low voice in Lin's ear. "I'm just taking my time. You're so easy to get worked up. I love it." Kya chuckled and dragged her fingers along Lin's inner thigh while she sucked on her nipple.
     Lin lightly gasped when she felt Kya's tongue in between her legs. "Ah~ spirits, Kya.." Lin moaned quietly. "Don't be afraid to get vocal, Chief. I'd love to hear it." Kya said as she inserted her two fingers again. Lin almost lost her breath feeling Kya's mouth around her bud, and her fingers inside her working together. "Kya!" She moaned louder. Lin tangled her hand through Kya's hair, her breathing pattern rapidly increasing. She was close, so close. "Kya.. I'm- I'm-" Lin heard a sinister chuckle come from Kya. Kya curled her fingers inside Lin, then started pumping faster. "Ah~ ah~" Lin now how a grip on the handful of hair.  Kya's tongue moved faster, a smile forming on her face as she heard the small moans Lin made while she finished. Kya leaned up and roughly kissed Lin, a hand still tangled in her hand. Lin kissed her back, moving her hand from the back of Kya's head and to the side of her face. "I never would have took you for the hair pulling type, Beifong." Kya remarked. Lin chuckled before flipping Kya over. "There's a lot of things you probably wouldn't have taken me for." Lin said as her hand slowly wrapped around Kya's neck, squeezing the sides.
     Lin came out of the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and her sports bra. "Are you sure it's okay that I wear these?" Lin asked. "For the last time, Lin. Yes, it's fine." Kya said with a smile. "And you're sure it's okay that I stay tonight?" Lin sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yes." Kya laughed a little. Lin didn't say anything after that. It was quiet for a couple minutes before Kya spoke up, "Is everything okay, Lin?" She asked. "Yeah, everything's alright. I just feel like things are awkward now." Lin chuckled. "Why? Because we had sex? We're things awkward with your other sexual partners?" Kya asked. Lin slightly tensed up a bit. Lin wasn't the kind of person to just go out and hook up with people. She chuckled. "All of them but one." Lin said. "Well, lay back, and relax, cause I'd like to be number two." Kya said. Lin looked back at Kya and saw her smiling. Lin smirked a bit before moving next to her and leaning back.
It was five in the morning. Lin was trying to get her clothes on as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Kya. However, "Lin?" She heard a quiet voice from behind her. "Uh- sorry for waking you." Lin said. "No don't be, it's okay." Kya sat up a bit. She still didn’t have clothes on from last night. "Do you want some coffee before you go?" Kya started to get up. "Oh, no, no, no. I don't need coffee. Lay back down and get some more sleep." Lin sat down on the bed next to her and stopped her from getting up. Kya laid back down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Lin couldn't help but stare at her. "What?" Kya asked in a raspy voice. That voice. "Nothing." Lin said. "I'm gonna go." Lin said softly. "Mhmm okay." Kya was almost half asleep. Lin went to get up, but she paused. She looked back at Kya, who's eyes were closed. She leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, then left.
Two weeks later
They haven't spoken to each other since that night. Well, Kya hasn't. Lin, on the other hand, had been trying to message her and get ahold of her. But since she's had no luck for the past two weeks, Lin went to her apartment. She was worried about Kya. What if something happened? What if she isn't okay? Did I do something to upset her? Did she only want me for that one night.. Lin's mind raced with thoughts. That was until she saw Kya's surprised face open the door. "Lin, what're you doing here?" Kya asked. "Making sure you're okay, given that I've been trying to get ahold of you for the past two damn weeks, Kya." Lin pushed her way past Kya. "I'm fine." Kya said in a monotone voice as she closed the door. "That's not the point, Kya. I-.. I was worried about you.." Lin said that last part quietly, hoping maybe Kya wouldn't hear her. "Well, stop worrying about me." Kya said. "I didn't hear from you for two weeks. I'm allowed to worry about you. Why weren't you talking to me?" Lin said. Kya shrugged her shoulders, no expression on her face. "Damn it, Kya, I want and actual explanation-" "Because, Lin, I fucking like you, okay?" Kya said.
Lin had to admit, she was sort of taken back by Kya's sudden outburst. She never yelled.. at least not at Lin.. "Well... I like you too." Lin said. "I know that! That's why I refused to talk to you." Kya said. "Why? Why do you have to stop talking to me?" Lin asked. "Because if I don't, then I'm just gonna like you more, and then you're gonna leave me." Kya said. "What're you talking about, Kya-" "Everyone I've ever been in a relationship with has ended with her leaving, or because of my traveling." Kya had tears in her eyes. "I have been left time after time, Lin. I can't handle anymore leaving!" Kya said. "Kya.." Lin said in a soft voice. She grabbed Kya's hands gently and sat her down on the couch. "I don't want you to leave me, Lin." Kya sniffled. "I'm not, Kya. I'm not gonna leave you." Lin said. "I care about you too much to do that to you." Lin said. Kya sniffled again, but this time a little laugh came out. "I never thought I'd see Lin Beifong talk about feelings." She said. Lin chuckled and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"Lin?" Kya said quietly. "Yeah?" Lin looked at her. "What if I decide I wanna go traveling again. Then what?" Kya said. Lin looked down at the floor. "Would you.. would you wait for me?" Kya asked, causing Lin to smile a bit. "What's so funny-" "Kya.. I've waited thirty six years for you." Lin said, her eyes still focused on the floor. "There'd be no harm in waiting a little longer." Lin said. "Do you really mean that?" Kya asked. "Of course I do." Lin said. "Kya, if you don't want to be in a relationship, then we won't be, and I'll leave you alone. But if you do.. just know I don't plan on getting into it just to leave you." Lin said. Kya leaned over and kissed Lin's cheek. Lin's eyes widened slightly and her face became red. "You're too sweet, Beifong." Kya said. "Don't go telling people that. I like my rookies scared of me." Lin joked. They were quiet. Neither of them knew what to say to each other. "I um.. I should probably get going-" Kya pulled Lin into a kiss. Just a short one. "Don't go." Kya said when she pulled away. "Do.. do you want me to stay?" Lin asked. "Yeah. I do." Kya said. "I want you to stay for awhile." kya said. "How do you mean?" Lin asked. "I want a relationship, Lin. I'm willing to give it a shot.." Kya said. Even though Lin tried to hide it, she was smiling. "Are you smiling? You know how to do that?" Kya joked. "That's it-" Lin stood up and walked towards the door jokingly. "No, Lin, wait!" Kya laughed as she ran to Lin and wrapped her arms around her from behind.
     They laid in Kya's bed, wrapped up in each other. "Are you gonna put clothes on?" Lin mumbled into Kya's neck. "I might." Kya chuckled. Lin took a deep breath, inhaling Kya's scent. Kya pushed Lin away from her a bit and kissed her. "Thank you for giving me a chance." Lin smiled at her. "Well after that, i'm glad I did." Kya smirked. Lin chuckled before kissing Kya, running her fingers through Kya's hair.
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yrbutchgf · 3 years
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sorry if this is a weird question but do you have any advice on starting to present masc? for about a year now I’ve been really wanting to but my parents aren’t all that supportive and literally all of my clothes are feminine so I don’t know what some good basic masc items would be
not at all a weird question! i'll answer as best as i can.
my parents were pretty supportive when i came out and started experimenting with masculine presentation, so i asked the butch/femme server i'm in for tips. here's what they told me.
before the tips, i should specify that there are plenty of different ways of presenting masc depending on what you like or you're trying to do. wanting to look butch/gnc/generally masc without minding what gender you're read or wanting to be read as a masculine woman are both very different from if you're trying to pass as a man, for example.
basic items:
cargo pants and shorts, jackets, plain and patterned button downs and tees. long-sleeved shirt with oversized tee was one person's go-to pre-transition. oversized graphic tees can be an easy buy, since tht's a style that isn't just associated with men anymore you can buy it and just say you like the fit better or are going for a "skater" look.
big jackets -- not necessarily oversized but BIG, heavy, thick jackets -- will give a more top-heavy silhouette and broaden your shoulders
army-style pants or joggers are great for a casual and easy masc silhouette
unisex sneakers or leather shoes/boots; anything cut like a vans, converse, classic sneaker style or dress shoe/chelsea boot/doc martens in a unisex cut or that has a square or round toe rather than pointy -- a good pair of work boots will also last you a long time!
for a more classy look, a watch and gold chain is a great option. generally thicker-banded jewelry and belts are seen as more masc, but just wear what you like honestly
generally neutral and/or dark colors
i will say that if you want to get gender-affirming clothing but are worried about your parents' reactions, i would recommend finding a buddy with more accepting parents that wouldn't mind receiving packages for you (e.g. binders, thrifted men's clothes, etc) and changing into them after you leave the house if you have to. i knew a few people in high school tht did this. it's not ideal obviously but it can work!
making use of old/women's section clothes:
you can style women's cut buttondowns to look more masculine by leaving them unbuttoned with a crew neck tee underneath and rolling up the sleeves
some butches i've spoken to from less accepting houses have said they've worn women's tees backwards (just turning them when out of sight of their parents) and the neckline will look better. same thing with tanks. obviously this only works if you're layering.
women's section bermuda or linden shorts will be longer and tend to have a less form-fitting aesthetic than other cuts. you can also get basketball shorts for this purpose if you want a more casual material (or an excuse to buy them -- say you wanna work out more).
if you can't buy pants from the men's section bc you're worried about getting comments, straight-leg women's pants will be your closest equivalent to the men's cuts. "boyfriend" style clothes are similar.
shop at thrift stores if you're worried about money! bring lgbt friends if you have them to help hype you up. if you can't go to thrift stores irl bc of covid or otherwise, check sites like thredup.
on hair: specifically if you're trying to pass as a man you can go for a variety of men's styles but this person recommends avoiding the buzz cut. because buzzcuts are commonly associated with butch women people will likely read you that way. if you want to change your hair but can't cut it, pushing your hair out of your face with no bangs is a pretty masc look. pulling it into a low bun or ponytail can also feel pretty masculine, if it's on the longer side/just pushing it behind your ears won't cut it. a single straight braid with no bangs can also have a similar vibe.
this isn't a tip for clothing, but a lot of transmasc people get gender euphoria from working out in certain ways. i recommend looking into this if you have the chance! it's more of a mental trick than it is a physical one, but for some people strength training can really help. the endorphins you get if nothing else may raise your spirits.
this got long, sorry! but this is all i can think of at the moment. if you have any other questions about specific gender strategies or style tips or like anything feel free to follow up, i really don't mind and am happy to help. if anyone following me has any additional tips they'd like to share, feel free to leave a comment or a reblog with your thoughts.
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platypanthewriter · 3 years
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At the End of his Rope
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Day Three of Harringrove AUgust, prompt:  Kink AU.  Billy thinks he's not welcome at the Harrington house for anything but sex, until Steve ties him to the damn couch and convinces him otherwise.
Billy had lingered, after they fucked, and Steve wasn’t used to that. 
He sat cross legged on the foot of the bed, studying Billy’s sleeping face, and watching his fingers curl, and his eyelids twitch.  
There were bruises on Billy’s forearms—fingermarks—and Steve didn’t know when they were from, or where, but he kept thinking he’d have seen them in the showers if they’d been there in school, and he knew Billy’d driven straight home.  
Billy’d given Max a ride straight home, Steve told himself, clenching his fingers in the blanket, and then he’d called from the gas station to ask if he could come over.  The gas station by Steve’s house.  Steve bit his lips hard, imagining Billy dialling, afraid Steve would say no.  
The bed creaked as Billy’s feet twitched again—he’d put his clothes and shoes back on before he’d sat down, glancing at Steve’s face.  He’d said he was going, and then slept through the night, shivering on top of the blankets.  Steve got up and pulled the comforter over him, and sat in the desk chair, wondering whether he dared go out and get them some bagels, or something, something that wasn’t canned chili for breakfast.  
He suspected Billy would be gone before he got back. 
Billy rolled over, kicking a leg out, and nearly fell on the floor as Steve muffled a snicker and pushed his legs further onto the bed.  
Steve had tucked Billy in again, and he was leaning on his desk, watching Billy’s eyebrows knit as he mumbled, when his hand brushed the boot laces he’d bought to replace the ones in his ski boots.  Steve considered, a grin creeping across his face, and then tied one of the bootlaces in a bow around Billy’s wrist and the bedpost.
When Steve returned with coffee and bagels, Billy was yelling from upstairs.  
“What the hell, Harrington,” he shouted, and Steve ran up the stairs with breakfast, grinning.
“Good,” he said proudly, “—you’re still here.”
Billy was still under the covers, holding his arm so the bow hung loose, and frowning at it.  “What is this.”
“I was hoping you’d still be here when I got back,” Steve told him, holding out a coffee.  To his amusement, instead of untying the shoelace, Billy pulled his other hand from under the covers to accept the coffee, smirking.
“I’m still here.  Is that ‘cause I’m a good, good boy?”
“You could just untie it,” Steve told him, laughing.  
“I dunno, does that mean I have to leave?” Billy asked.
“I could tie you up downstairs,” Steve offered, his face reddening at the bizarre conversation.  “Tie you up so you stay.”
“You’ll have to untie me first,” Billy said, tugging lightly at his wrist, and Steve grinned wider, because even one-handed, it would have been so easy for Billy to yank the lace loose.  
“Don’t run off, now,” Steve told him, reaching over to untie it.  “I got you a bagel.  Poppy seed.”
“...you’re gonna leave my hands free to eat the bagel, huh?” Billy asked, his ears as red as Steve’s felt.
“Yeah, you’re free until you’re done eating,” Steve declared, thinking as he chewed.  “After that I’ll tie you to the couch,” he said, daringly, and Billy snorted a laugh, grinning around his bite of bagel.  
 As soon as they were done eating, Steve crawled up the bed and kissed him, yanking at his clothes until he had Billy naked, sprawled across his bed, jacking himself with a smug grin.  
Steve yanked his own jeans off and scrambled on top of him.  
 When they finally rolled apart, sweating and panting for air, Billy swung his legs off the bed and started gathering his things.  He pulled his button-down off from where it had caught on the thumbtack holding the car poster on the wall, and raised his eyebrows at Steve.  
“Mind if I grab a shower?” he asked, and Steve waved him towards it, barely awake.  He rolled to watch Billy’s ass as he walked towards the bathroom, cataloging things he’d noticed, like how Billy’s grin was wider before sex than after, and how when Steve tried slowing his hand on Billy’s cock, drawing it out, Billy squirmed and swore, but didn’t complain.  
“Don’t you want me to hurry?” Steve had asked, but Billy had shaken his head, gasping for breath.
“Take your...time,” he panted, like no teenager ever, Steve was fairly sure.  “I can...last.”
 “You should stay,” Steve shouted into the bathroom.  “It’s the weekend, you can just stay.”
“You don’t want me around forever,” Billy laughed, and Steve firmed his jaw, rolling over to swing his legs off the bed.  He wiped the jizz off himself fast in the bathroom sink while Billy asked whether Steve was gonna get pissy if Billy stole some shampoo.
“It says you’re supposed to shampoo twice and then condition,” Steve told him, buying some time, and Billy laughed.  “Do it right,” Steve commanded, and Billy waved over the top of the shower stall.
“Yeah, yeah, as you wish, shithead.”
 While that kept Billy busy, Steve ran down the stairs to rifle the garage for the bright white rope he used to tie things to the roof of his car.  It was pretty soft, he thought, rubbing his thumb on it, and flushing as he imagined Billy squirming to test his knots.
When Billy wandered down, Steve grabbed his shirt by the collar, and kissed him.  “D’you really have to go,” Steve asked, and Billy shook his head, panting.  
“I just,” he said breathlessly, biting his lips.  “There’s probably shit I should do around the house—”
“Do you…” Steve pulled his other hand from behind his back, with the rope in it, and threw a loose loop over Billy’s head, pulling it tight around his shoulders.  “Do you want to go,” he asked, and Billy’s ears reddened as he stared back.
“No,” he whispered, grimacing, and Steve tugged him into the front room, and pushed him down on the couch.  
“I was serious, before,” he said, and Billy laughed, grinning disbelievingly up at him.  
“What, you want me here?  All damn day?”
“Longer than that,” Steve told him, rolling his eyes as he tossed the rope end around the back of the couch, and crawled to grab it and pull it under.  
“I bet your neighbors wouldn’t even hear me if I screamed,” Billy said, squirming, with a considering look on his face.  “Nothing I can do.  Gee.”
“You don’t wanna scream,” Steve snorted, wrapping another loop around Billy’s wrists, and grinning as Billy took a shaky breath.  “You didn’t even untie the shoelace.”
“And you didn’t even praise me,” Billy told him, rolling his eyes.  
“You got a treat,” Steve told him, unable to keep from snickering.  He leaned in for a kiss, and got lost in kissing Billy’s grin, and feeling the heat in his cheeks.  
The rope around Billy’s upper arms and chest was against bare skin where his shirt was open.  Steve ran his finger along it, feeling it for roughness, and watching Billy flush clear down to his waist.  Billy’s arms worked against the loop around his wrists, testing the strength of Steve’s knots, but Steve had tied many a mailbox and street sign on the roof of his car in a hurry, and he just waited as Billy’s muscles flexed.  
“You want out, tell me,” Steve said, and Billy snorted a laugh, shivering.  “Until then, you’re right where I want you,” Steve told him, pulling him down so his head was lying in Steve’s lap. 
“...wait, you aren’t gonna fuck me?” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I know you’ll stay for that,” Steve told him.  “It’s after that I need to tie you to the damn furniture.”
“...okay,” Billy said, watching him, and Steve ran a finger over his eyebrows, exploring his face, since they had the time.  
“Maybe later I’ll fuck you like this,” Steve suggested, grinning, and Billy groaned, rolling to bury his head against Steve’s stomach. 
“If I’m a very good boy,” he muttered, laughing.
“I mean,” Steve said awkwardly, feeling like he was talking to a dog, “—you always are.”
Billy laughed shakily, his breath warm through Steve’s shirt.  He was heavy, but he was getting more comfortable as he slowly relaxed.  
“You’re doing good,” Steve told him, his mouth on cruise control as he stroked his fingers through the soft curls around Billy’s bright red ears.  “You’re so good for me.”
 Once Billy was dead asleep, Steve untied him, because it looked uncomfortable, but when Billy awoke, he felt for the ropes.  
“You done, I guess?” he muttered, and Steve grabbed his head and kissed him.
“Dumbass,” Steve told him, and Billy snorted a laugh.  Steve sighed.  “What, I gotta keep you tied up forever, or you’re gonna run?  Fuck you too.”
“No,” Billy said, grinning kinda softly.  “I just…”
“Gonna have to learn to lasso you I guess,” Steve groaned.  “Like a cow.”
“Shit, yeah,” Billy breathed, and Steve burst out snickering, yanking him closer.  Billy laughed too, shaking his head, and Steve rolled them against the back of the couch so their legs flailed.  Billy was warm and heavy, shaking with laughter, and his ears were hot against Steve’s cheek.
 He didn’t come back for nearly two weeks, until he banged on the door at nearly midnight, and Steve opened it to see bruises, again, more than one, all up the side of Billy’s face.  
“What the hell,” he breathed, yanking his boyfriend inside.  
“Fuck,” Billy said, panting.  His eyes were shiny with angry tears, and Steve pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.
“What happened,” Steve whispered.
“Not your problem,” Billy said flatly, and Steve set his jaw.
“Okay,” he said.  “You...you hungry, or anything?”
“No,” Billy snorted.  
“You gotta piss?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows, and Billy cocked his head, frowning.
“I’m not a fucking toddler—”
“Good,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s wrist and hauling him upstairs.  He pushed him down on the bed—Billy laughed, startled—and then knotted the rope around his wrists and the bedframe.  “Okay,” Steve said, trying to sound sure of himself, as Billy stared at him, his face starting to flush.  “You’re gonna do as you’re told in that, right?”
Billy yanked at the ropes, reddening further, and nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll be good,” he said hoarsely.  “You got some punishment for me, Harrington?”
“Tell me how you got the bruises,” Steve ordered, and Billy tensed.  “You said you’d be good,” Steve reminded him, and Billy squirmed, his eyes going red and wet again.  He was also hard as a rock, Steve could see where his jeans bulged, but so was Steve.  He told himself to ignore it, and ignore the way the muscles were working in Billy’s arms, and the way Billy’s back arched as he yanked harder at the ropes.  
“I’m just disappointing,” Billy gritted out.  “Indiana was supposed to be a new start.  New Billy Hargrove.  I can’t...make it stick, I guess.  I’m still Billy fucking Hargrove,” he said, with a forced laugh.
“What happened,” Steve pressed, reaching out to squeeze Billy’s hand, and he stopped yanking at the rope, taking a shaky breath.
“I’m rude, and disrespectful, and dumb as—” he started, watching Steve’s face, and Steve lunged closer and clapped a hand over his mouth, before he could say anything else.
“Billy,” he tried again, “—what happened to your face.”
“I’m telling you,” Billy hissed around Steve’s fingers, pulling his knees up and curling more on his side.
Steve shook his head.  “Tell me how your face got banged up,” he said, and then, tentatively, “Be good and tell me what happened.”  Billy watched his face, swallowing.  “Somebody hit you,” Steve prompted.  “Who?  Was it...your dad?” Steve asked, unable to imagine the faded woman who answered the door raising a hand to Billy, or Billy letting Max smack him around.
Billy glared back at him, and Steve sighed.
“Stay here,” he said.  “Just—just stay.  Bring your shit.  All of it,” he said, as Billy stared at him, his breaths coming faster.  Steve scooted closer, and kissed him.  “Come on.”
“You want me to...move in here,” Billy said, flatly.
“Move in here,” Steve repeated, nodding, and Billy took a long shuddery breath, watching his face.
“Are you serious,” he hissed.  “Are—are you—you don’t fucking want me here, Harrington—”
“I do fucking want you here,” Steve growled back.  “Get your shit, dipshit.”
“Jesus,” Billy whispered, staring at him.
“Not gonna change my mind,” Steve said.
“I’m not eighteen,” Billy breathed.  “I’ve got a month—”
“Bring your shit here,” Steve told him.  “If he pitches a fit, we’ll work it out.”
“...gonna just...order me around now, huh,” Billy said, shifting against the ropes, and licking his lips.
“You gonna do it?” Steve pressed, and Billy laughed shakily, nodding.  
“You gonna tell me I’m a good, good boy?” he asked, trying to smirk, even though he had tear tracks on his cheeks.  
“Yeah,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.  “Yeah, yeah, I sure will.”
My other Harringrove stuff!
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andypantsx3 · 4 years
Text
war paint | 5 | hot water
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pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader
length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters
summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)
tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert
warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut
You laid low over the next few weeks, avoiding Captain Bakugou to the best of your ability.
You didn’t make eye contact during your drills, shifting behind Kaminari and Sero’s shoulders when you could. You kept to your bunkroom when you weren’t on duty, and ate quickly in the mess halls, leaving as soon as you were finished lest he come dine with his battalion. You left the palace grounds only to post your wages to your family, and hurried back quickly in case Bakugou came looking and found you gone.
You also steered clear of Nishimura and his idiot friend Hasumi, taking alternate routes when you saw them on the training grounds and saying nothing about the animals and bugs you continued to find in your sheets.
Your only relief was your continued patrols, especially when you were assigned to Sero or Kaminari. Kaminari in particular was good at getting you out of your funk, tripping over himself to make you laugh and forcing you to socialize with all his palace favorites like Hagakure the laundress or on one notable occasion, Ochako Uraraka, companion to the princess-to-be and wife of the prince’s trusted valet, Izuku Midoriya.
His favorite stop, however, continued to be Mina’s workrooms and you found yourself getting quite comfortable with her, relaxing into her bright and cheery presence. She kept you well entertained with easy humor and palace gossip.
“I heard Captain Bakugou told the prince he’ll have the thief in chains before the wedding,” Mina said one evening as you and Kaminari finished up your rounds. “But it’s hard to know where he’ll strike next. There’s no discernable pattern in the rooms he targets or the things he seems to take.”
“Wow, never thought anyone would be able to stump that guy,” Kaminari said, kicking his feet up on Mina's worktable. Mina growled, shoving his muddy boots off the bright fabrics. Kaminari overbalanced and only just managed to stop himself from face planting, grabbing her chair tightly.
He shot Mina a dirty look but continued. “Bakugou’s basically like a bloodhound. I thought for sure he would have sniffed the thief out by now.”
Mina sighed. “I know! And it’s giving the servants ideas now, too. One of them stole Lady Yaoyorozu’s best gown right out of the laundry rooms last Sunday. The housekeeper’s had a right time of it trying to track down the culprit.”
You thought back to your own patrol on Sunday, but it hadn’t taken you anywhere down near the laundry rooms. Nishimura and Hasumi’d been on that route and you wondered if the theft had occurred right under their noses, the pair of fucking idiots.
“If I were the thief,” Kaminari said, “I would steal an entire tray of those little cinnamon buns cook Rikido makes.”
You laughed. You had yet to try one, but from the way the other soldiers waxed poetic about them, you didn’t doubt they were worth stealing.
“Ooh, I would pilfer those sweet cakes he does,” Mina said longingly. She looked as though she was thinking wistfully of a long lost lover.
You thought to yourself. If you were any kind of thief, you’d steal money, most likely, to send back to your family. Or maybe something of the captain’s to burn. You wondered if he cared enough for anything that you could get him to beg you for it back. You quite liked the image of him on his knees before you...
A chuckle from Kaminari brought you out of your fantasy.
“Maybe we should take up a life of crime,” he said.
Mina eyed him. “Think of how fast Bakugou would figure you out and say that again. He’s the smartest person in this entire castle.”
Kaminari winced. “On second thought, protecting and serving is my passion. I’ve never so much as looked at a stolen pastry. If someone approached me with one I’d report them straight to the captain.”
You’d heard from Mina exactly how the prince’s future bride had bribed her way into the mid winter ball, so you weren’t buying it.
“In other news,” Mina said, “The new servants' baths are finished. You lot might get to try them! I heard they’re only waiting on an inspection from the steward to open. Hagakure said she already snuck in for a dip in the ladies’ baths and just about melted.”
Your interest piqued. You hadn’t had more than a rushed scrub down in weeks, and if the baths weren’t open yet, your chances of being disturbed were few.
“Where are they?” you asked, trying not to look as interested as you felt.
Mina described their location and dropped the tantalizing fact that they’d been built over a natural hot spring just south of the castle. Mentally, you could feel yourself rubbing your hands together with glee. Maybe tonight you could soak away all the stress from the past few weeks.
Kaminari yawned in disinterest. “No wonder you’ve got such a girly face, L/N. You’re basically as bad as Mina.”
You scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with being clean.”
He raised a golden eyebrow. “You even sound like Mina.”
Mina patted your arm sympathetically. “Denki was born to repel women, L/N, don’t hold it against him. A woman likes a well groomed man. Keep it up and you’ll have your share of ladies hanging off you when you grow up.”
You stifled a laugh. You certainly hoped not.
Kaminari, however, looked absolutely incensed and he bit out a retort at Mina, storming out of her office and bodily dragging you with him. You suppressed a smile and followed him through the rest of your rounds, trying to look appropriately chastened when he told you off for not defending him.
You felt lighter than you had in ages, though, and you looked forward to an evening spent in the baths.
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Late that evening, hours after everyone went to bed, you crept out of the barracks and followed a worn path to the south of the castle. The baths proved tricky to find in the dark, but soon enough you stumbled upon the entrance. In case Hagakure was around for another illicit dip, you stuck to the men’s side, not wanting to explain to the laundress why her friend the soldier suddenly had sprouted a pair of breasts.
You lit a match and followed its light into the steamy heat of a dark room. You pressed it to a set of sconces set into the wall which, when lit, revealed an open pool sunk into the floor of the room. The light wasn’t enough to see the bottom of the spring by, but you could see steam curling off the surface of the water and you shivered in delight.
You quickly undressed, leaving your clothes and your breast bindings in a neat pile by the side of the pool, and climbed into the dark water. The heat instantly loosened your shoulders, and you could feel what must have been months of tight knots unraveling within your muscles.
You let out a sigh and sank in up to the top of your head, letting the water sluice over your shoulders and hair. You grabbed for your soap and washed down thoroughly, luxuriating in a feeling of total cleanliness that you hadn’t felt in months.
Then you let yourself float, feeling near ecstasy in every single nerve where the warm water touched your skin. The gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool and the steam curling up around your face lulled you into a stupor.
Until the scrape of a boot at the entrance reached your ears. Cussing, you ducked back down in the water, swimming over to press your chest up against the side of the pool, your heart beating frantically like a frightened rabbit.
Your stomach dropped when light caught on a lock of unruly blonde hair, and Captain Bakugou slipped into view.
“Interesting place for me to find a soldier who’s supposed to be in their bunk,” he said, smirking. His eyes were bright in the torch light.
You wanted to rush out of the baths and leap into your clothes, but you could only hold still in fear as he stepped closer. He looked like he’d come from his own bed, only wearing a loose linen shirt over a pair of soft breeches, his usual uniform conspicuously absent. You tried to ignore the peek of a well defined pectoral through the low collar of his nightshirt.
“Captain,” you said quickly, “I, um...I couldn’t sleep.”
He moved to the edge of the pool, staring down at you. “And you think that means you can just defy my orders, pretty boy?”
You flushed. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
He looked you over, scarlet eyes running over your wet hair and shoulders. “You look awfully comfortable in there. Not gonna get out?”
Your heart shot into your throat. You couldn’t get out, not in front of him. Not if you didn’t want this whole charade to be ruined right here, right now. You didn’t know if Bakugou would knife a woman, but you didn’t want to take your chances and find out.
“I’m, um, embarrassed to, Captain,” you said by way of explanation. You stared at his boots, not daring to look up into his handsome face.
“Well aren’t you delicate, princess,” he quipped. His boots shifted and all of a sudden his face was in front of yours. You startled, shooting back from the rim of the pool, water sloshing loudly around you. You covered your chest protectively -- you didn’t know how well he could see in the low light of the torches but you didn’t want to test it.
A gleam of interest came into his eye and his gaze picked over you again. He looked disconcertingly curious, his head cocked to the side, like a wolf considering which part of the prey to tear into first.
To your horror, his hand moved to his shirt. Before you knew what he was doing, Bakugou grinned and pulled his nightshirt over his head. You had a glimpse of strong arms and a defined chest with a mouth watering set of abs before you panicked and whipped around, staring hard at the opposite wall.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out high and squeaky.
“The fuck you think I’m doing, shrimp?” he asked. You heard the mortifying sound of his belt being undone and the scuff of his boots as he stepped out of them. “I’m testing something.”
“C-captain,” you said. “You’re not coming in here.”
You heard a low chuckle. “Don’t wanna share, princess?”
“Th-that’s not it!” you gasped, spine locking up as you heard his pants hit the ground. There was a slosh and water rushed over your back in a small wave. “Captain, this isn’t right.”
His rough voice was coming too near. “It’s a communal bath. We’re communally bathing. You some kind of pervert or something?”
You certainly felt like one if the way your eyes had tried to stay stuck to his chest was any indication. “And if I am?” you asked.
There was another low chuckle, this time right by your ear. “Awful shy for a pervert.”
You stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Your thoughts raced wildly from one topic to the next. What did he think he was doing? How were you going to get out of here without him figuring you out? If you pushed him, could you make it out of the baths before he caught you? If he caught you, what would he do?
A broad, hard chest pressed right against your back and your brain froze completely. You stopped breathing.
What was this? This was beyond teasing. What was the captain trying to accomplish?
“Still embarrassed?” he rumbled in your ear. A shiver went through you and your arms tightened around your chest, praying he couldn't see anything over your shoulder.
“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” you blurted. You tried to will your mind to disconnect from the nerve endings in your back. He was so, so warm.
He snorted, and there was a moment of hesitation before he sloshed away from you again. You sighed in relief as the heat of his body left your back. “Not counting you getting your ass kicked in the mess hall.”
Irritation flashed through and you would have rounded on him if you could have turned around. “I wasn’t getting my ass kicked.”
There was a splashing sound from behind you. “Oh, were you only pretending to be losing spectacularly?”
You clenched a fist under the water. “Look, why are you here?”
There was a beat of silence.
“You ain’t the only one who can’t sleep,” Bakugou admitted roughly, surprising you. You chanced a look at him over your shoulder, only to whip back around, shame-faced. Yep, his abs were still there.
“W-why can’t you sleep?” you asked for something to say, voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat.
“Why can’t you?” he asked.
You frowned. “I asked you first.”
He let out a low chuckle. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
You could feel your cheeks heat, and you tamped down on an indignant so are you. A soldier didn’t talk to their commander that way, nor a peasant to a marquis.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me, princess,” Bakugou said. His voice sounded smug, like he knew what retort you were clamping down on.
You thought for a moment on what you could tell him. You couldn’t exactly admit to waking in the middle of the night to bathe without having your gender revealed. You could be vague, though, and still tell the truth.
“My family,” you said. “There were some things that, uh, led me to the kingsguard, and I was thinking about that.”
Bakugou seemed to accept that. “I was thinking about how I'll kill that thief nice and slow when I get my hands on him.”
You shivered despite the warm air of the bath house. The thought was unsurprising, but Bakugou being kept awake by it was. “You’re more bothered about this than I would have guessed.”
A loud, gusty sigh echoed from the other end of the spring. “They’re fucking with my territory. And they’re bothering the shit out of Shouto and his dumbfuck valet.”
“The prince?” you asked, surprised.
“He’s a...friend,” Bakugou admitted. You were somewhat shocked by the admission that Bakugou had anything like friends. You wondered what the prince was like, to be so unbothered by Bakugou’s rough manner. Or maybe Bakugou didn’t try his usual tack with a member of the royal family.
“I’ll kill anyone who fucks with him,” Bakugou growled quietly, “Or that green-headed little snot rag.”
You guessed he meant Midoriya, the valet. He sounded oddly protective for someone he called a name like snot rag. You wondered wildly if, despite the disturbing terms in which he spoke of them, he considered the prince and his valet something like family. It would explain why he was so bothered by the thief when he was normally so unflappable.
“I hope you find them,” you said, the sincerity in your voice surprising even you.
“Oh, I will,” he promised darkly. You shivered again.
A loud splashing from his end of the spring distracted you and you looked back over your shoulder, only get an eyeful of a very chiseled butt leaving the pool. You yelped, covering your eyes.
“What are you doing?” you gasped.
Another low chuckle reached your ears, along with the rustle of fabric. “Leaving. Didn’t you want that, princess?”
You took a breath. “Well--yes.”
There was more rustling. “I’ve had my fun with you,” he said, and you heard the scuff of his boots as he pulled them on again. “Don’t let me catch you out of your bunk again or I’m fucking discharging you.”
You nodded, heart beating wildly. Had you really gotten away with this? “Yes, sir,” you answered dutifully.
Bakugou let out another derisive snort. “Get to bed,” he said imperiously, and then he was gone.
You turned to stare after him, listening to the tread of his boots grow further away. Finally, as the sounded faded, your knees gave out and you sank back under the water, feeling horribly relieved, and yet more confused than you had ever been before.
You'd escaped, but...what the hell had just happened?
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doomstypewriter · 3 years
Text
The submersion | Intrulogical Mermaid AU
Future intrulogical.
Follow up on this animatic. | AO3
Words: 1728.
Summary: Remus has fun in his submarine. A giant barracuda disagrees.
CW: Dark humour, skeletal remains of a rat, drowning, deep ocean (if there's anything else do tell), death, sexual innuendo.
The submersion
It was cloudy.
And cold.
But that was to be expected when one’s in the middle of the Atlantic.
“Remus Prince, you dunce, how are you dressed like that?”
Remus turned around to see Ella Da Villa, the captain of the ship he was on, and an old friend. Her short afro was stuffed inside of a beanie, she held onto her sides through her huge puffer coat.
“I know you’d just rather I take it all off, but, honey, I need to at least wear something”.
She laughed.
“What you need is to make sure you don’t get drenched or--”
“First of all, I look amazing all wet. But if that’s what you’re so worried about, hey, I took care of that” he answered pointing at his green rain boots.
The crew looked at them in amusement as they moved the equipment, preparing everything for the submersion.
Ella took off one of her gloves and smacked Remus’ head with it.
“Ow! I thought you were against violence!”
“I never said that. But I am against animal abuse, that’s why I didn’t hit you hard. Now go and put on a coat, you dumbass”.
“Sure thing mommy, you know how to be commanding” he winked.
“It’s captain for you, now go!”
His boots squeaked against the flooring of the deck as he ran to get into the guts of the ship. He managed to hear Ella swearing under her breath.
“How did he even graduate? Going out in short sleeves…”
Ella was a funny one, Remus thought. It was easy to get under her skin, she also liked to play along which made it even better.
One of the people going up the metal stairs almost tripped against him, there wasn’t that much room, after all. Remus jumped over the railing and fell onto the lower level without a scratch.
“Oh my god! Are you okay?!” said someone.
A younger guy with spectacular hair held onto his forearm to check on him. Oh, this was the newbie.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any lungs”.
“Wha…” he looked half perplexed and half horrified.
“You know, we all get it done since we’re going to end up sleeping with the fish anyway”.
He stood up quickly and mutely apologised. Remus enjoyed the view of his ass going upstairs as fast as possible. New meat was always hilarious.
When he entered the room his cupboard was already open. He liked to leave the sliding doors that way so he could see what was inside, otherwise, he’d forget about it. In a ship, that meant ending up with all of one’s clothes on the floor, but as long as Remus could see where they were he wouldn’t misplace anything. Object permanence was a bitch.
Messy floors did have an advantage, the coat on top of the pile was good enough to satisfy Ella and easy enough to grab quickly.
The backswing of the glove against his shoulder caught him off-guard.
“Ow! What did I do now?! This coat is fine!”
“The coat is fine, yes, but the new guy is shaking like a leaf. What did you tell him? He keeps saying stuff about drowning”.
“Hey, I’d never mention drowning when I’m about to get into a submarine”.
“Yes, that’d be very poor taste, sadly, you have it worse so you must have said something terrible. I expect you to fix this, or we’ll have to arrange you drowning”.
“You know I love choking on wet things”.
“Then your last moments will be pleasant. Consider me the best friend one could have”.
The new guy was holding onto the railing of the ship, staring at the water in concentration. Probably about to throw up or something.
“Hey!”
“Ah!” he screamed.
“Do you have a name?”
“Uh… yes… um…”
“Great! I have one too, it’s Remus” he introduced himself with half a bow.
“I’m Nathan… sorry… I’m just anxious… it’s the first time I go on one of those” he gestured at the submersible held by the crane of the ship.
“First times are always awkward, don’t worry”.
Finally, Nathan let out a laugh, it was a nervous one but it would suffice.
“You know what I said earlier was a joke, right?”
“Oh, yeah, it just caught me by surprise. You’re the head biologist here, right?”
“Yup. Guess you could say I’m the dom of this study”.
“Darn it, here I was expecting to be more active”.
Remus smiled in surprise. It was always nice when people had similar humour to his.
“Oh, you’ll have to be. I expect it”.
“You wouldn’t expect we could go for some coffee after we get into…” the date proposition vanished into a look of fear at the submersible.
Remus put a hand over his shoulders. The drowning jokes would have to wait until they were emerging.
“Don’t worry, my thicc ass has been there tons of times! It’s just a lot of water”.
“While it’s true he’s been there more than you, he’s overplaying his own ass. It’s kind of droopy” a heavily accented voice said
“Who are you calling droopy?”
They turned to see a tall blond woman smiling smugly. Erika Engström, oceanographer and the operator of the submersible.
“You, obviously, do you have water in your ears?”
“Not yet, but we’ll see if…”
Nathan held his breath.
“Nah, I don’t”.
“He either thinks you’re cute or he’s afraid the captain will throw him off-board if he keeps bullying you”, Erika told Nathan.
“I wasn’t bullying anyone”.
“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re always bullying people, you don’t know how else to flirt”.
“Then I would be flirting with everyone”.
“Aren’t you?”
“Okay, yeah”.
“Come on, I have to set up things. Give me a hand, rat skull”.
“At least give me a knife or something”.
“You can chew it through”.
One last look at Nathan before following her.
“Well, I’ll leave you to stress out, if I don’t help her we’ll dro…” oh right, no drowning jokes. “We’ll…”
“Flirt with me when we’re back at the surface”.
Remus smiled.
“Will do!”
-----
The light was beginning to fade out. The flickering of the few rays coming through a swirl of silvery fish would be their last glimpses at natural lighting for a while.
It was wonderful.
How the underwater landscape changed, morphing into something out of a nightmare. Never ceases to amaze him. People would say it was all just blue getting darker and darker, and it was! But it was also a thick fog from which anything could come out. He always looked forward to seeing the weirdest fish appear.
There wasn’t much room behind the giant acrylic viewport. Despite being stuck so closely together, Remus could feel a chill as the air within got cooled by the deep water. His coat lay forgotten at the back of his chair still.
Once the lights of the submersible switched on, a delicate dance of white dust shined just like it would on a sunny day. This was no room dust. But there was just as much beauty in seeing the marine snow surrounding them. Teensy tiny pieces of dead fish falling all around, making the nicest shapes.
“It’s so quiet” Nathan observed.
“Wait until you hear a whale. The first time I did I thought my skull would pop”.
“Which one?” Erika kept her eyes on the water, but he could see the reflection of a smile curving onto the surface of the acrylic.
“Well, the small one. I know you’d hate to have to scrape my brains off your console”.
“If you had any I would”.
“There would still be plenty of blood”.
The ship carried on with the descend, soon, they’d be at twenty thousand feet. Nathan leaned in.
“Hey, what did she mean by which one?” he said in a hushed voice.
“Oh! Right”
He pulled on the string of his necklace to get it from under his shirt. Remus held it in front of Nathan’s face.
It turned, revealing the empty sockets and the front of what used to be a snout.
“I have this rat skull as a necklace! Erika teases me because that’s how she copes with the fact that she hates it!”
“Anyone would hate it. You wear that thing everywhere. It’s creepy” Erika pointed out.
“Where did you get it?” Nathan asked.
In the dim light, Remus’s smile cast shadows, giving him a grim vibe.
“I used to have a pet rat. When it died it sucked, my brother and I buried it in the backyard. It was there until three years later when we got a heavy storm. The bones peeked through the mud. So I just yanked a bit on the spine and got it. The skull was already defleshed anyway, so, aside from cleaning it a bit, I didn’t have to do any of the work. I really like this necklace. I got into marine biology because I began looking at fish skulls and I wanted to see more”.
“That’s…” Nathan began to say.
Suddenly, the submersible turned violently.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know, I couldn’t take a good look”, said Erika.
Her frown told Remus something was seriously wrong.
“Guys, we’re picking up really weird signals from here. Are you all okay?” the sound of Ella’s voice through the radio distracted him from his train of thought.
“It’s all under control, but I am going to begin ascending” Erika replied.
“We haven’t taken all the samples”, Nathan said.
“We’ll have another chance. Right now I’m worried that---”
Erika did not have time to finish talking.
Its needle-like teeth loomed over the viewport. This creature was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Part of him felt excited at how terrifying it all was. Sadly, he had the feeling they were all about to die. This fish looked like a giant barracuda and an angry one.
The creature snapped its jaw closed, cracking the viewport.
Seemingly, it didn’t find it tasty enough and it swam away even moodier than before. The very least it could have done was eat them.
If you’re going to kill them might as well finish the job.
Remus’ body floated into the dark abyss as he struggled to breathe. Covering his ears tightly, he screamed in pain. The pressure was unlike anything.
Well, it had been fun.
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The continuation will feature Logan and another animatic!
Taglist: @lemonyscented , @emsiemaefander , @sunflower-avo-tea , @nadiestar , @amber-da-toon , @gabseliblack , @everythingisstardust
@trash-bastard , @under-the-blue-moonlight , @willowaudreykeyes
@queerly-a-hisssstory-momster​
@theyluna-womoon , @subterfugespecialist
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rosesupposes · 3 years
Text
Navy Eyes Dark Enough
Or, five times Geralt didn't realize Jaskier was a witcher and one time he did.
Inspired by this post. Read on AO3 here.
-
Most witchers move among humans with some difficulty. People want them around for their skills but they’re hardly considered good company. Their swords, their eyes, their medallions all give them away for what they are and inspire fear in the humans around them. Jaskier passes much more easily as a human than any other witcher he’s met. A pretty face and prettier words go a long way for a witcher and he’s been blessed with both. He’d been called a pretty boy since his earliest days at Gorthur Gvaed and the mutations had been kind to his looks, leaving him baby faced into adulthood and granting him navy eyes dark enough to hide the shape of his pupils from anyone who didn’t look too closely. His teachers hadn’t necessarily approved of his interest in poetry and prose but they didn’t mind him tearing apart the library for all the fiction he could find, so long as he was reading the nonfiction as well. He’s unafraid to leverage this advantage while on the Path. He gains a town’s trust faster than his brothers and is rarely underpaid because of it. He’s never found himself short of romantic partners. He’d talked himself into Oxenfurt because it sounded like fun. He spends his time as a traveling bard, taking contracts only when he’s low on funds or his brothers ask it of him. It hurts, sometimes, to keep his twisted Viper medallion hidden under his clothes but it makes it easier to hide in plain sight. For all he leverages the way he blends in with humans, Jaskier had never expected another witcher not to recognize him.
1. 1240 Jaskier has traveled alone for most of his time on the Path. There was the string of contracts almost two decades back when he’d helped Letho and Auckes but that was before he’d left Nilfgard and the South behind almost entirely. After a week of traveling with Geralt, he’s starting to realize that he’s missed it. Traveling the Path with someone else is different than the traveling Jaskier does in caravans as a bard. Despite their unfamiliarity with traveling together, they fall into an unexpectedly easy routine when it comes to setting up camp. Geralt, a Wolf to the core, insists on doing the “hard work” of it all and Jaskier isn’t going to complain about leisurely picking berries and filling their waterskins. By the time Jaskier makes it back to camp with their waterskins full, Geralt is usually finishing setting up their fire after having set a few traps nearby. He lights it with Igni, of course, like any witcher worth his Signs would. It isn’t until their second week of traveling together that Jaskier beats Geralt back to their camp. The area they’re in, despite being filled with berries and freshwater, was suspiciously devoid of game. Jaskier had suspected magic at first but his medallion is too silent for the kind of magic that would require. If it’s a monster though, it’s leaving them suspiciously alone. He debates the likelihood of various possible monsters while he builds their small fire. He’s not nearly as skilled at the technical aspects of fire building as Geralt but a Sign can level a playing field and he has it started in no time. Geralt enters their small clearing only a moment later. “That was fast,” he grunts as he moves past Jaskier. Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve always been better than my brothers at it,” he explains, moving his hand in a general approximation of the Sign. He’d always preferred his magic lessons to swordplay at Gorthur Gvaed and he’s a bit jealous at the way he’s seen Geralt so easily use his Signs while he fights. The double shortsword style of Jaskier’s school did not lend well to Sign usage while fighting. Geralt gives the fire what Jaskier supposes is a thoughtful look and then grunts, moving away to set up a small tent. 2. 1244 It is not often that Jaskier finds himself caught up in the habits ingrained in him during his training. He’s decades removed from his trials and, for the most part, he has kicked the habits that Ivar and the other Viper Masters beat into him. His posture is a wreck. He doesn’t keep a journal in the way a witcher should. He takes his medallion off more often than most witchers would deem advisable. Perhaps most egregious to other members of his school is his chosen weapons. He still dual wields while fighting but these days he favors daggers to the traditional Viper shortswords. They’re much easier to hide. He keeps a stiletto in each boot and two in his lute case. One habit he cannot break is the way he cleans and sharpens his daggers after every use. He has two silver and two steel because he is a witcher, even if he’s a witcher who rarely takes contracts. They rarely need cleaning, especially when he travels with Geralt, but when they do, Jaskier is almost religious about it. His latest kill is a pack of drowners outside Murivel, as he’s lazily making his way through Redania and towards Ard Carraigh after completing his obligations at Oxenfurt. He finds no contract for them in town, which is frustrating after he ruined this season’s traveling clothes in the fight, but he gets some decent prices for some of the alchemy supplies he was able to harvest. When he makes it to an inn, it’s a bit before the midday meal, just enough time for him to clean himself and his daggers before he sings for his supper and his room. The innkeep is gracious enough to give him the room first, because he remembers Jaskier and knows he’ll be good for business. He lays his daggers out in a corner of the room and sits on the floor in front of them with a small bowl of water and a cloth. It isn’t long before he loses himself to the familiar motions. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Polish the blade. Unwrap the leather. Oil the leather. Rewrap the leather. Repeat.  It doesn’t take very long, given how much smaller the blades are than his old shortswords but he takes longer than most men would bother with. A blade ill-treated is unlikely to treat you well in moments of need.
He goes downstairs to sing a bit for the midday meal. He’s debating the merit of playing through Geralt’s song cycle without Geralt himself present when the door swings open and the witcher himself enters. He nods at Jaskier when he sees him and then goes to speak to the innkeep. Jaskier finishes his song and wanders over to Geralt as he plucks at the strings of his lute, playing but not singing. 
“He’ll join me, my good man,” Jaskier declares after he hears the innkeep tell Geralt there’s no available rooms. The inkeep shrugs and shows Geralt to Jaskier’s room while Jaskier continues to play.
It’s another hour before he joins Geralt, who is making notes in his journal. Jaskier brings two bowls of broth and some bread with him and they share a pleasant meal after spending almost half a year apart. 
“You’ve bought more daggers,” Geralt says as they’re finishing, gesturing to where Jaskier had left his blades out after their rather thorough cleaning.
“Not new,” Jaskier clarifies, “just clean. They were a little too useful on the way here.”
Geralt snorts.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks him, with no real heat. 
“What use would you have for a dagger, other than the one you carry on your belt sometimes?”
Jaskier rolls his eyes and gathers the bowls, immune to Geralt’s teasing for the most part. It is just like the other man, to consider the fighting style of another school inferior to his own. “Not all of us are trying to compensate for something with our gigantic swords.”
3. 1247
Jaskier manages to get his pants tied and his doublet buttoned as he runs back to the inn he and Geralt are staying at. He finds Geralt whetting his silver sword by the fire.
“Hello, Geralt,” he says, as casually as he can manage. “If you wouldn’t mind departing just a bit early, I think now’s a wonderful time to leave.”
Geralt grunts. “The room is paid until tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Jaskier says, moving quickly towards the table he’s been using as a desk to pack the papers he’s spread across it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to lose out on that coin. C’mon. Chop, chop. Pack your things.” Jaskier moves onto his small pack of clothes in the corner.
“Don’t forget your weird necklace,” Geralt grunts, shoving Jaskier’s Viper medallion into his hand and Jaskier remembers taking it off before going looking for a lay for tonight, trusting Geralt with it before trusting a random lay wouldn’t steal it.
Jaskier pauses for a second, offended. The Viper medallions aren’t the same heavy stamped discs the rest of the schools use- they were forged individually into various twisting shapes before they’d been enchanted. Jaskier finds them more attractive than the other schools’ medallions and more practical, easier to hide. “Excuse me, as if yours is better.” 
“Let’s go, Jaskier.”
Jaskier shuts his mouth and returns to packing for a moment before he’s forced to retaliate. “Fine but don’t think we’re not discussing your terrible taste in jewelry later.”
4. 1251
Geralt’s White Honey is absolute shit and Jaskier knows firsthand because he’s borrowed it before. He’d replaced it after, of course, and he could tell when Geralt used the one Jaskier had brewed because it flushed the toxins much faster than Geralt’s usual swill.
Ivar would be very disappointed if he knew how long it takes Jaskier to figure out why Geralt’s White Honey is so poor in comparison to his own. As it turns out, Geralt is preparing both the honeysuckle and the white myrtle petals incorrectly. He’s managed to flip their preparations, crushing the myrtle petals and chopping the honeysuckle, when it should be the other way around. Jaskier thinks maybe it’s a Wolf thing but he’s not sure it matters because watching Geralt butcher his potions every time is getting old. 
Jaskier doesn’t bother to keep his potions stocked beyond a few that are easy to keep in his packs but he helps Geralt when the other allows him to. Mostly he prepares ingredients as Geralt directs but given how sick he is of watching the other witcher butcher his potions, when Geralt asks him to crush some white myrtle petals he takes the knife from Geralt’s hand and chops them instead. “Just give me that,” he says, reaching for the honeysuckle Geralt had been about to chop. “You always do this wrong. You’re supposed to cut the white myrtle and crush the honeysuckle.”
It doesn’t take very long for Jaskier to finish preparing the potion, though he stops short of the final mix lest Geralt actually murder him. He wipes his hands and picks up his lute, idly strumming.
“Where did you learn that?” Geralt asks as he takes the ingredients Jaskier has prepared to finish mixing them. 
Jaskier rolls his eyes because White Honey, for all it’s helpful properties, is a recipe shared almost exclusively among witchers. “Oxenfurt, Geralt,” he answers with a hefty amount of sarcasm in his voice. 
“Hmmmm.”
And doesn’t that pique Jaskier’s interest. That’s Geralt’s genuinely confused hum, not his ‘Jaskier, shut up, you’re not that funny’ hum.
 “Where else would I have learned it?” he prods. “I am a Master of the seven liberal arts, as you know.”
“Didn’t know they taught White Honey at Oxenfurt,” is all Geralt says as Jaskier strums lazily at his lute. Geralt is being serious, Jaskier realizes- he believes he learned how to make White Honey at Oxenfurt.
White Honey is not taught at Oxenfurt. White Honey, per rather extensive experimentation by the Viper School, is mostly useless to anyone without a witcher’s mutations. While Jaskier is sure someone out there has the recipe who is not a witcher, it is certainly not taught at Oxenfurt. Jaskier is sure Geralt knows this but the other witcher is taking Jaskier’s joke seriously.
Oh.
Oh.
Geralt, somehow, just over ten years into their friendship, does not know Jaskier is a witcher. It takes effort to keep himself from crowing with laughter. This is just- Jaskier would be hurt if he didn’t find it so funny. 
Oh, this is incredible. Jaskier is going to milk this for all of its worth.
5. 1251
Jaskier continues to insinuate in every possible way that he can think that he is a witcher without actually saying it. Geralt does not catch on. It is simultaneously amusing and frustrating though it gives Jaskier a lot of perspective on certain aspects of their relationship.
Geralt is always surprised when Jaskier lights a fire quickly because he hasn’t considered that Jaskier is using Igni. Geralt insists that Jaskier’s hidden daggers are for show because he doesn’t quite believe that Jaskier knows how to use them. Geralt dismisses Jaskier’s Viper medallion as an odd piece of jewelry because he doesn’t remember that not all the schools use the same stamped metal the Wolves do for their medallions.
Jaskier’s current favorite game is trying to find the subject of his knowledge that will eventually push Geralt over the edge because he can’t accept that Jaskier learned it at Oxenfurt. He hasn’t found it yet.
He’s trying the Wild Hunt today because there hasn’t been a reliable sighting in nearly thirty years and he knows very few humans who actually study the subject. All witchers know about it, of course, but the Vipers are most familiar. They were founded to study it, after all, and Jaskier’s knowledge on the subject is both broad and deep.
“They’re elves, you know. Not the typical kind, mind you, but they speak an off dialect of Elder. Some of my teachers think they’re from some other world. There’s unicorns there, apparently,” he says as they walk beside Roach. It’s a not-quite-bastardization of the various facts and theories but Jaskier’s not aiming for the truth, he’s aiming to confuse Geralt.
Geralt just grunts. It’s not quite as satisfying a response as Jaskier had hoped but he thinks maybe Geralt is confused.
“I think the unicorns are a little far-fetched, personally,” he continues. “It’s a nice thought, though.”
“The Wild Hunt is not a nice thought,” Geralt says seriously. Which, well, is true. 
“I’m well aware, Geralt. I’ve read an entire library on the subject. The Continent’s biggest, in fact.”
“The biggest library on the Wild Hunt was at Gorthur Gvaed. It’s been destroyed.”
“Yes. Well.”
The painful reminder stops Jaskier short. He normally doesn’t have much trouble separating his memories of Gorthur Gvaed from its destruction. He wasn’t there and if he doesn’t think about the raid he missed, it’s easy to pretend it never happened; that the keep, with its hidden passageways and winding rivers, is still standing in the mountains of Nilfgard; that his teachers are still there tending to the library; that his brothers are still out there and they’re narrowly missing each other as they travel their own winding Paths. The mention of its destruction brings his idealized fantasy crashing down. Gorthur Gvaed is nothing but ruins and he has maybe five brothers left. 
Guilt wells up in the pit of his stomach and he decides the Wild Hunt is not the topic that’s going to make Geralt realize he’s a witcher.
+1. 1251
Geralt feels hazy and slow as he wakes. There’s the dull ache of a pain in his leg and his blood burns. His vision comes slowly and when it does he takes stock.
He’s trapped under a pile of rocks. The tunnel. The kikimores. The cave-in. The pain in his legs and his ribs is dull, due to his potions, but he thinks his leg might be broken and his ribs at least bruised. He has a concussion but he doesn’t think he was out for very long. There are potions burning through his system, one for the dark, at least, but with his head pounding, he’s not sure what else.
He’s in a fairly large section of the tunnel system, with a small stream running through. There are four entrances to the cavern. He was caught as the fifth tunnel gave way and caved in.
He can see where his sword had landed and he might have enough time to clear enough of the rock to reach for it. He doesn’t like his chances of getting out of the cave on his own but there should only be one injured kikimore left and if it comes to him, he might be able to take it out. Jaskier will come looking for him once he’s been gone long enough and as long as the kikimore is dead before Jaskier enters the tunnels, the foolish bard should be safe.
Geralt closes his eyes, trying to listen for the kikimore, trying to gauge where it is and how much time he has. Not much, he realizes, after a moment of listening to the echoes of it’s skittering legs, but he can do it if he works fast.
His legs are still mostly pinned under the cave-in when the kikimore enters the cavern from one of the tunnels opposite Geralt. 
Fuck.
He’s free enough to reach for the sword, stretching his body as far as it will go and exacerbating the pain in his leg, still pinned, as he does. His movement attracts the attention of the kikimore. It’s beady eyes turn toward Geralt. It’s a smaller specimen, a worker probably, but pinned as he is, Geralt knows it has the upperhand. He braces himself, trying to find the position that will give him the most power. If he can time this right, he might be able to behead the kikimore before it pierces his chest.
Suddenly, there’s another body in the cavern, a blur of blue putting itself between Geralt and the kikimore, a dagger in either hand. The kikimore stops, eyes focusing on the new arrival.
“Jaskier, get the fuck out of here.”
“Can’t do that, my dear.” Jaskier lunges at the kikimore, leading with his blades. 
Geralt stops breathing. His only goal after the cave-in- to kill the kikimore before Jaskier came looking for him- is now impossible. He hasn’t been fast enough for the bard’s impatience and now the fool is going to die trying to fight a monster some young witchers struggle with.
Jaskier lands the first blow, a lucky hit against one of the kikimores legs. It’s not deep but it’s enough to put the kikimore off balance. It strikes at Jaskier who dodges and pulls away. He puts some space between himself and the kikimore and pulls a small vial from his pocket. It’s one from Geralt’s own stores, though he can’t tell which. It doesn’t matter. It would kill any human. It will kill Jaskier.
“Don’t!”
Almost faster than Geralt can see, Jaskier throws his dagger into the kikimore’s eye with deadly accuracy, stunning it for a moment. In almost the same moment, he downs the potion and pulls another dagger from his boot in one fluid motion. He dives back in to slash at the kikimore’s throat, digging into it with both of his daggers. The kikimore chokes on its own blood, a sick wet, gurgling sound, and then suddenly it is on top of Jaskier, stabbing down and obscuring the bard’s body from Geralt. Geralt can barely see any of it but the sick sound of flesh being pierced overwhelms his ears. Instead of trying to watch, he returns to freeing himself from the cave-in.
It isn’t long before the sound has stopped and the kikimore is moving toward Geralt again. He can sit up fully now but twisting away from his legs to look at the scene behind him pulls at his ribs. Jaskier’s body is motionless on the ground and Geralt is furious. The idiot bard.
He manages to free the rest of his legs as the kikimore approaches. It takes massive effort to kneel up, ready to strike, but he manages. He still does not expect to make it out of the cave system but the least he can do is bring the kikimore down with him in honor of his friend.
Just as Geralt is preparing to swing at the approaching kikimore, it sinks to the ground. Standing over its lifeless body, is Jaskier, once again holding his daggers. His eyes are completely black and the veins surrounding them are dark beneath his pale skin. The toxicity of the potion hasn’t killed him. It’s swirling through his system. Geralt knows his face looks much the same.
“Fuck.”
-
“Eleven years, Geralt,” Jaskier crows as he helps Geralt back to the clearing where Roach is waiting for them. “How does it feel to have traveled with another witcher for eleven years and never once known? While holding his medallion in your hand and drinking the potions he’s prepared for you? Hmmm, Geralt? How does it feel?”
“Jaskier.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
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No Worse Company
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gif credit: @holylulusworld​
Dean Winchester x Reader
Words: 2385
The Deal S2 E2: Series Masterlist
Summary: The reader copes with her return while Jody tries to get a hold of the boys. Cas deals with what Lucifer did while possessing him. 
Notes: Here’s the next part in Chapter Two of the Deal Anthology! I hope you guys enjoy it. This one feels a little like a filler, but I’m really excited for the next part. 
-
He couldn’t stop looking. After everything that happened- all of the pain and the anguish, all of it his fault- he couldn’t stop looking. He had to find Lucifer and he had to put him back in hell. He owed you that. 
Driving down the road in his stolen truck, Cas’ eyes fell on the passenger seat. He frowned. That drive to St. Louis didn’t seem so long ago anymore. Sam and Dean’s cries as they watched the hellhound tear you apart were still fresh in his mind. He had turned away. At the time, he thought it's what you would have wanted. For him to have his final memory of you be one of your smiling face, content with the family you had found. Now he felt like he had turned his back on you. Now he was cursed to see your screaming face forever. 
He had to find Lucifer. 
Cas glanced down at his cellphone and sighed. Multiple missed calls and unopened messages from Dean filled his screen. He couldn’t face them. Not until he found the Devil.
-
One Week Ago
The police officer that found you had found some clothes that were two sizes too big but you took them gratefully nonetheless. You were sitting at her desk, staring blankly at a photo beside her computer. Her big happy family smiled over a picnic table on a beautiful sunny day. You wanted to put your fist through it. 
“Alright sweetheart, I’ve got someone on their way to pick you up.” The officer gave you a small smile. 
“Did you find Dean?” 
“Not exactly.” She pulled up a seat across from you. “It’s a good thing I was the one that found you. I don’t know much about those Winchesters, but I know that if any other cop in this joint put them through the system, they’d probably take you in for questioning. Fortunately for you, I have a friend up North that told me to give her a call if I ever heard the names Sam or Dean Winchester.”
“Look, I appreciate your help, but I can’t stay here.” You stood up, but she blocked your path. 
“Well you’re certainly not going out there on your own.” Her expression was caring, but stern. “I don’t know what happened to you, honey, but I know that going out alone will only make things worse for you.” 
“Believe me, I can handle myself.” Nothing in this woman’s imagination could even remotely describe everything that had happened to you. Still, the officer stood her ground.
“Right now you’ve got two choices. You can either stay here and one of the other officers will take you to a hospital, or you can come with me and we can meet Jody half-way.” 
“Wait… Jody?” Your face softened, the idea of seeing a familiar face warming your cool exterior. 
“Yeah, Sheriff Jody Mills up in Sioux Falls.” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you know her?” 
Jody, even though she wasn’t much older, was like a mother to you. She helped you and boys out when you needed and had saved your life on more than one occasion. You pictured being enveloped in one of her hugs and a small smile crept onto your face. 
“I used to.” 
“Then let's get moving. We can get you something to eat on the way there.” The officer grabbed her keys and started towards the parking lot. As you followed her, something caught your eye. Your face reflected back at you in the glass of the window and a moment of panic nearly took you off your feet. Your eyes were black. 
-
Now
You could tell that Jody had been walking on eggshells for the past week. After everything that was going on, you couldn’t really blame her. When she saw you the first time, she tried to kill you, thinking you were a shapeshifter or some other kind of monster. When she realized that it was really you, she was speechless for the entire ride back to Sioux Falls. 
Jody had been trying to get a hold of Dean for the past couple of days, but to no avail. The longer you waited, the more and more you debated running away in the middle of the night. Could you face him? Jody said that you’d been ‘dead’ for three years. A lot had changed. You knew that you were his Y/N anymore. Maybe he wasn’t your Dean. 
“Coffee?” Jody offered, holding a mug in front of you. 
“Thanks.” You took the warm ceramic mug and held it between your palms. The heat spread across your skin as the smell wafted up to your nose. Who knew a cup of coffee could hold so many memories. Sitting across from Dean in the kitchen of the bunker or looking over a case with Sam in the middle of the night with only caffeine to keep you going. 
“I might be a little later at the station today. Do you think you’ll be okay here?” 
“I think I can handle a few more hours of daytime television and boxed mac and cheese, Jody.” You smirked. She shook her head with a light chuckle. 
“I have to say, I missed that snark of yours.” She finished her own coffee before putting on her coat. “Now you call if you need anything, okay? I’m going to try and get a hold of the boys again.” 
“Jody…” You started, but looking at her hopeful face, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Of course she would think that reuniting everybody would solve everything. She didn’t know what was lurking under your skin. You put on a smile. “Have a great day.” She put a hand on top of yours.
“You too, sweetie.” 
She glanced back at you with a flash of concern before the front door closed behind her. 
“I thought she’d never leave.” The voice made you jump out of your seat, the coffee mug sent shattering on the floor. A woman walked in from the hallway with a smug smile on her face. You lunged across the table, reaching for a knife from the counter. She grabbed your arm and pinned it to the table. With a single blink, her eyes turned jet black. “Boo.”
“Lavina.” You gasped, trying to yank your arm away. 
“Aw, you missed me.” She laughed, raking her nails across the back of your hand just deep enough to break the skin. “So how’s my little protégé doing back up top?” 
“How are you here?” She let you go and you examined the scratches. 
“What? You think the security in Hell is really the top priority right now?” She wandered around the kitchen, picking up the knife you had been reaching for and twisted it back and forth in the light. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you. That’d be too easy.”
“Then what do you want?” 
“I’m just checking in to see how you’re holding up.” Lavina flipped on the radio and laughed at the tune. It was just the last few seconds, but it still sent a chill up your spine. 
“You know that you’re the only one to say okay. But you’re motorin’ yeah motorin’.” 
“I remember this one.” Lavina smirked. “Didn’t this used to be you and dreamboat Dean’s song?” 
“Shut up.” 
“What? Aren’t you excited to see your sweetie-pie Winchester again?” She read the fear behind your glowering eyes and chuckled. “Or maybe you don’t want to see him. Maybe you know.” 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about you black-eyed bitch.” 
“Maybe you know that whatever soul you’ve got walking around in that meat suit isn’t all you anymore.” The song on the radio ended and you recognized the next song as Bad Company. “Man, this station is on fire this morning! There’s no worse company than yourself when you’ve become what you have.” 
You tried to block out her words, but you knew that she was right. So you turned away so she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing your fear. Your fists clenched at your sides. 
“Get out.”
“Sooner or later, you’ll be begging to come back to me. Begging to finally tear all of those souls apart. Begging to embrace what you really are. Let’s just hope you realize it before your precious Dean gets hurt.”
Bad, bad company til the day I die
With an angered scream, you grabbed a plate and hurled at Lavina’s head. She caught it and held it out in front of her. Clicking her tongue, she let it fall to the floor. The sound of the ceramic shattering made you jump. 
“Don’t worry. You’ll know how to find me.” The pieces cracked under her boots as she walked across the kitchen and vanished down the hall. 
You were shaking- from rage or from terror, you didn’t know. The image of your reflection back at the police station had been haunting your thoughts ever since. You had yet to look into another mirror out of fear of what you’d see. Lavina was right. Whatever Amara had brought back, it wasn’t you. 
-
Sam was surprised when Jody told him to meet her at the station rather than at her house. Maybe Dean was right. Something just felt off about this whole thing. Dean’s whole body was tense, his eyes scanning every part of the room, expecting to see a monster ready to pounce. 
“There you boys are.” Jody let out an exasperated sigh and pulled both Winchesters into a hug. Both could tell how freaked she was. Sam pushed back and put his hands on her shoulders. 
“Jody, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There’s just… there’s a different problem back at my house.”
“Is something wrong with Alex? Or Claire?” 
“No, no. It isn’t them. Alex has been taking a nursing course in Rapid for the past two weeks and god knows where Claire is.” She ushered them into her office and closed the door. “No, this is… weirder. It’d be best for you guys to just see for yourselves, but I wanted to prep you first.” 
“Prep us for what?” Dean asked, that deep feeling in his gut returning. Jody looked at him with sympathetic eyes. 
“For what you’re going to see.” 
“Jody, what are you talking about?”
“I can’t explain it. I don’t know what happened. One minute I’m dealing with a couple of pot-smoking kids and the next I’m getting a call from a friend of mine saying that…” She took a deep breath to keep from rambling. “Like I said, it’s better for you to just go and see her yourselves.” 
Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean’s forehead creased with confusion. 
“Her?” 
-
Cas stood alone, looking out on the vast lake before him. His search was getting him nowhere and nothing was helping with the visions. Everywhere he looked, he saw hands slick with your blood. Every car horn or singing bird was replaced by your screams. He was supposed to be your friend. Lucifer used that against him. 
“Cas, please I know you’re in there somewhere.” You cried, just earning another punch to the gut. 
“I’ve got to admit, you’re holding up a lot better than Dean ever did down here. Only took him 30 years to give in. It’s been, what, 300 for you?” He blew out a low whistle. “For a while, I liked having Crowley as my chew toy, but when I found out you were down here, man I just couldn’t resist.” He laughed as he ran his finger down your bloody arm. 
“Cas…” You pleaded, screaming when he drew a blade down your face, just missing your eye. Blood dripped from your temple, making it hard to see You were used to pain by now, but this was different. This was looking at the face of your friend and seeing only malice. 
“Lavina told you about good old Dean getting ganked by Metatron, right?” Cas’ gave you a fake pout. No, not Cas. Lucifer. “I mean, come on. Metatron? Of all the angels in heaven that’s the one that quote-unquote ‘Michael’s Sword’ bites the bullet for?” He laughed picking something up from the table. “I guess that’s not really the right expression, right? His death went a little more like this.” 
He shoved the angel blade deep into your chest and your mouth fell open, but no scream came out. He grabbed you by the hair and lifted you up so his lips were by your ear. 
“All of this- the suffering and the torture- was for nothing. You saved Dean only for him to die a few months later. You’re death meant nothing. You mean nothing.” When he let you go, you fell to the floor, held up only by the chains on your wrist. Your blank eyes stared back up at him. Not that it mattered. You’d be awake soon enough for him to start over. 
-
When they got to Jody’s house, Dean had one hand on his pistol and the other clenched at his side. Sam stood up a little too straight, clearly on edge from whatever lay beyond that door. Jody turned the key and the three went inside. When Jody got to the kitchen, however, her face fell. 
“Damnit.” She muttered, pulling out her own weapon. The boys joined her, looking down at the shattered plate on the floor. Sam and Dean went to search other rooms in the house while she cautiously opened the back door and peaked out into the yard. With a sigh, she holstered her gun. “Out here, boys!” 
Sam was first, but he froze on the spot. He just stared, eyes wide and heart pounding. Dean had to push past him to get out the door. When he did, that feeling in his gut made him sick to his stomach. The last time he saw that face, it was being torn apart. 
You dropped the whiskey bottle into the grass and felt tears welling up in your eyes. He was finally here. 
“Dean…” You gasped, wanting to reach for him, but you couldn’t move. You were frozen under his glaring eyes. It wasn’t until his pistol was aimed at your head that you snapped out of it. 
-
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dergonageloser · 3 years
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Content warning: Death, mild gore
N'wen Mahariel isn't an expressive person. They're often reserved with their thoughts, rarely speaking unless necessary. It's how they've always been, their guardians even bringing it up to the Keeper as a child. Children don't usually stare out into the forest or the sky just Watching. Always watching. The Keeper only said that N'wen had been blessed by the Creators with a keen eye and unwavering focus on their surroundings. What more could they ask for in a clan of hunters? What did it matter that they couldn't look you in the eye when you spoke to them, or constantly twisted anything like a rope or twig into rough braids?
Hunting for food is only the beginning. N'wen picks up tracking as easy as breathing. Even days-old trails becomed clear for them to read. It's like they see patterns invisible to even the most experienced hunters. When asked about it, N'wen frowns and, after a moment of thinking, says "It's not seeing what's in front of you as it is. It's seeing what it would be had our prey not gone this way."
Most people stopped asking.
Except, of course, for Tamlen.
"We stopped finding actual tracks ten minutes ago," he says as he follows N'wen downhill. At twelve, just a year younger than N'wen, Tamlen is still a scrawny thing with a pitchy, cracking voice. "The rain this morning probably washed everything away, what are you even following?"
N'wen doesn't glance back, watching instead the soggy earth beneath them. The incline of the hill had allowed water to rush down and form temporary rivulets in the mud. More mud than the usual rains brought. N'wen turns their head further east, where the hill steepened gradually until slopes became cliffs. The forest's numerous trees blocked their vision, but they nod to themself.
"I think there was a mudslide over that way," they say.
Tamlen pauses. "Wait, really? How can you tell?"
With a solemn expression, N'wen touches their nose and replies, "Smells different."
For a long moment, Tamlen considers. Then declares, "Halla-shit."
A small quirk of N'wen's lips is the only thing that gives them away. Tamlen laughs.
He stops laughing, however, when they find the mudslide. An entire column of the cliff had collapsed into the narrow valley below, forming a river of mud and clay and rock and burying everything in it's path.
Including, it seems, someone unfortunate enough to be in the valley at the time. A pair of legs stuck in odd angles out of a pile of debris.
"Is that--?" Tamlen gasps, a heavy sick forming in his stomach.
"Not ours," N'wen says, voice soft but firm.
Tamlen can't pull his eyes away. "How are you sure?"
N'wen considers, then points at the feet. "No one at home wore boots today."
The mud is so thickly caked on the person's feet that Tamlen can't even tell.
"Are they--?" Tamlen starts.
N'wen doesn't respond, simply picks their way down the sodden slope towards the body. Their bare toes sink lightly into the ground, careful not to shift anything too much.
Tamlen immediately follows, but not without concern. "There could be another mudslide."
They look towards the cliffs, scrutinizing it, as though reading it's broken face. It was eerie the way their eyes became both focused and distant at the same time. N'wen had tried describing it to him once. Something like, "Seeing everything at once, both as it is and as it was." It's sound tracking advice, used by the clans more skilled hunters, but N'wen seemed to be able to memorize every place they've been to down to the smallest detail. Tamlen imagines that they're comparing the image in their mind to what's before them.
So Tamlen is willing to believe them when they say, "There will be, but not for another few hours at least."
Still, he gives the cliffs a glance, peering for whatever N'wen saw. With a sigh he pads down after them.
N'wen scans the debris burying the unfortunate person. They circle around, poking at a few rocks and branches here and there. Tamlen watches them, figuring it best to let them do their work. He keeps an eye and an ear on the area around them, in case another part of the cliff decides to fall on top of them.
Or if someone comes looking for the nameless body.
N'wen's hand clutches at the edge of a rock positioned at a specific point under the rest of the debris, testing it. They gingerly step over the protruding feet to look more closely.
After a moment, they wave their hand at Tamlen, who quickly steps closer. N'wen pulls out a wooden training dagger and points to a few broken tree limbs about them. "Prop some of those up around here." They point in specific spots, each one looking no different from the last.
Tamlen wants to ask why for Creator's sake, but he's never been one to doubt N'wen when their brow has that certain tightness, their a certain rigid. They wouldn't be dissuaded from their task. So he follows their lead.
Once done, N'wen motions for him to step back. Then, they dig the edge of the wooden dagger between their chosen rock. It takes several long moments, and a few slips of N'wen's fingers, for them to dislodge the stone from under the pile of debris.
When it was almost completely loose, N'wen drops the dagger and pulls gently with their hands. It slides free, and they leap out of the way as all of the debris collapses and slides further down into the valley. The tree limbs block the largest rubble from covering the rest of the body.
It isn't yet uncovered, but N'wen's cleverness had removed the heaviest debris with the least energy. Tamlen didn't have time to be amazed before they were diving back towards the body and digging at the loosened earth with their dagger.
Tamlen glances at the sun. They need to be back at camp before it sets, and it's already begun it's descent to the horizon. The valley in particular would darken more quickly.
He pulls out his own training dagger and gets to work helping them.
It takes at least half an hour, but the two manage to finally uncover the whole body. Mangled, bloodied, broken. The mud caked on their skin and clothes cover any gashes or flesh wounds, but arms aren't supposed to bend like that. Neither are necks. The skull looks misshapen, their nose crushed and their jaw hanging loose.
N'wen reaches towards the head. Their fingers tenderly wipe mud from around the ears first. Round, but coming to a soft point.
"I don't know any half-elves," Tamlen offered, unsure why he needed to say that but saying it anyway.
N'wen doesn't respond, their fingers moving to where the eyes would be. Tamlen thinks about stopping them, but fears if he opens his mouth he'd vomit. The thick grains of rock and clay fall away from a pair of half open eyes.
As Tamlen considers turning to find a good place to toss his lunch back up, N'wen finally presses their hand over the corpse's eyes to close them.
Their face is impassive, relenting nothing. But Tamlen sees how they hang their head for a moment and knows that they're mourning. A stranger, most likely. But a stranger that had been alive just hours ago.
"Do you think anyone's gonna be looking for them?" Tamlen asks.
N'wen raises their head a little, looking deeper into the valley. They're quiet, contemplating their breath and how easily it can be taken away.
"Does it matter?" they murmur after a time. "The dead don't care what happens after they die."
Tamlen sighs and finds a rock dry enough to sit on. "It would matter to the people they left behind." He picks up his wooden dagger again and starts flipping it. His chest feels heavy. "If I went missing suddenly, even I died, I think... I'd want someone to find me. Just so no one's left guessing." One flip misses his fingers and catches roughly on his knuckles. He winces. "I don't think I could handle not knowing, if it was any of the clan. My mother. You. So yeah, I think it matters a little, you know?"
Tamlen looks up to see that N'wen, without him noticing, had moved to stand in front of him. They had that pinch in their brow. Their short, curly hair dusted with dried mud hung around their dark face. Their eyes, a warm gold, looked directly into his. So rare was such that he finds himself surprised at how intense their stare could be.
"I would look for you," N'wen tells him. Their soft voice even quieter now.
Tamlen let's himself hold their gaze for as long as possible. Then, he smiles, a sad thing though it is, and says, "I know you would. I'd look for you too."
They eventually make their way back to camp, only able to forage for whatever berries and mushrooms the forest offered since they'd missed their chance to properly hunt. Tamlen tells the Keeper of the body and describes where he and N'wen had dragged it; namely, out of the immediate danger of the valley. A part of him thinks most of the clan would have left the corpse where it was, but he and N'wen had wordlessly agreed otherwise.
The Keeper's eyes soften with sympathy, and she has a small party organized to retrieve the corpse. It wouldn't receive a Dalish burial, she tells them, but they would give it the respect the dead deserved.
N'wen doesn't speak of it again, but Tamlen remembers their promise as years pass. Every time they part ways, however briefly, he accepts the possibility of never seeing each other again, because sometimes it happens. Sometimes you're unlucky enough to be in the wrong valley at the wrong time. But knowing that no matter what, he and N'wen would always look for each other, eased the worst of his fears.
When they share their first tentative kisses, they seal the final anchor in each other's hearts. Tethered together to their promise. Hot breath and fluttering pulses prove their life. N'wen always finds him first, always sees when he needs them.
Reserved as they were, Tamlen sees the emotions the rest of the clan stopped looking for. The need to keep him safe. Their nervousness when they first tugged at his collar to press their lips to his. The quiet laughs they give when he makes stupid jokes. Their unwavering loyalty to those they loved.
He cares little about what his mother or clanmates might believe. N'wen likely feels love stronger than anyone, Tamlen included. He thinks that's what pushes them to become a scout, to ensure their clan's safety by using their talent to spot dangers before they occurred.
Knowing that he's earned the friendship and affection of the best tracker in Fereledan gives him confidence each time he left camp. It's written in his heart now, their promise, and he holds it close.
Even as the taint chokes his breath and poisons his blood, as he stumbles blindly from the cavern where his best friend lay unconscious. They'll survive, they were always the stronger one. His body moves beyond his own control and he weeps, he weeps knowing N'wen will never stop looking for him. He weeps, because they will find something worse than a corpse.
He weeps even more from the relief, the certainty that N'wen will be the last thing he sees.
Time becomes meaningless as an instinct not his own draws him to other ghouls and darkspawn. Sometimes he follows them. Sometimes they follow him. The sickly song in his head grows stronger each moment until it's all he can hear.
He holds on by a thread. A thought. He'd clutched viciously at it when the song of the Old God tears everything else away and strips him of his being. His own name fades under it's horrible voice. But not this.
N'wen will find him. Or he will find N'wen. And they will know.
And he does find them. After endless nights battling the urge to snarl and howl and tear throats out with his teeth. He finds them with strangers, and he sees the moment their golden eyes recognize his under his marred, rotting skin.
"Tamlen," N'wen chokes out.
He lets his name settle in his mind once more. He sinks into their hold, relishing their warmth even as the song urged him to sink his teeth in their flesh. They hold a dagger, a metal one instead of wood, steady above his chest despite their quivering mouth.
"I looked for you," N'wen whispers.
Tamlen closes his eyes. The dagger points downward behind his collarbone, the most direct way to his heart. His voice is barely a croak.
"I know you did, Lethallan."
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choco-mark · 4 years
Text
A Marriage of Inconvenience (2)
overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc
overall genre: angst | smut | fluff
warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, y/n wanting to kill jeno, jeno being an asshole, oppression of women, murder/homicide, jeno wanting to kill y/n
summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?
words: 4.8k
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requested by 🤡 anon
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18 April
It had been a few days since you blew up on Jeno, and thankfully he found you scary enough to stay away from you for a while. Mark had been visiting your room every now and then to send you messages from your fiancee (one of which had been ‘don’t go to the training room tomorrow,’ which gave you an extra reason to stay there longer than usual).
Today was the day of the mission, or at least, that was what Mark had told you this morning after handing you a box of battle clothing. You took one look at the color of the uniform, repelling it immediately before you realized the expense of the actual fabric and how protective it would really be.
Even the thin overcoat armor was bulletproof, as it was marked on the inner side of the jacket. The boots were heeled, making you a bit annoyed as you would’ve rather stuck with your own classic ones, but you couldn’t pass by the chance to step on someone’s very nice face for being an asshole.
As you were slipping on the last of your clothing, Mark came bursting in, nearly causing you to throw the nearest object at him. His eyes were blown wide open, darting around the room until he focused on you. “Is there anyone else in here?”
“No?” You placed down the glass vase back on the bedside table, walking towards him. “It’s just me. Are we leaving soon?”
Gulping, he nodded. “Yeah—we’re just missing a few people. They’re probably in the training room, or still getting ready. Um, you can come with me, though—Jeno wants to talk to you.”
You scowled at the sound of his name, wanting to do literally anything other than listen to the blond guy boss you around like he needed you to convince himself that he had power. You weren’t sure if he would ever get it; there was no way you were going to listen to anything he said, ever.
You walked down with Mark anyway, making sure to pocket your phone alongside you. Jisung had called you earlier, telling you quietly how he missed you and wanted to see you as soon as he could, and you had just chuckled, saying it would happen soon. It had hurt your heart, hearing your younger brother sound so broken over the call, but there was nothing you could give other than the empty promise of ‘maybe.’
Once you had reached the lobby, you noticed there was a line of Lee fighters, that were all (so surprisingly) male. Almost each and every one of them watched as you walked down the steps beside Mark, looking you up and down like you were some kind of specimen. It made you feel unknowingly self-conscious, having so many men stare at you without an ounce of remorse in their blood.
Jeno was in the corner, sitting next to an elderly but sharp looking man, talking intently with him until the man’s eyes fell on you. You wished you could have spat in his face from the way his eyes skimmed your body, a man who looked old enough to be your father. As you came closer, he stood up, giving you a slight bow, which you returned.
“Thank you for joining us, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, looking from Jeno to you, and then to Mark. “We’re glad to have one of the best soldiers in NCT Park for this mission, who is, I’ve heard, you? It’s an honor.”
Jeno gave an incredulous look to his father, looking at you with huge eyes that you thought they’d better burst from his sockets any moment soon. “Would you take a seat next to my son, miss?”
You cocked your head at the sound of formality, nodding slightly before sitting down stiffly beside Jeno, not feeling the man in front you had good intentions at all. Glancing over at your fiancee, you said, “I appreciate the deal you have fixed with my family; that is why I am here.”
The man nodded, looking up at Mark. “Your brothers are already on their way to the hideout, Mark, there’s no reason to go looking for them any longer. Get the cars ready, and make sure the system is set up before we arrive there. Okay, son?”
You had already found out from Mark that he himself was not a fighter, but a hacker instead. It explained why he always had an electronic device in his hands and why he had a notepad on deck every time he came to visit you; he was always ready, and dedicated to the cause. It reminded you of yourself.
He nodded, scurrying out of the room being followed by a few of the men. Jeno’s father leaned over, completely disregarding his son as he spoke to you. “We’re having you join Jeno’s team for this mission, so please effectively cooperate with him. Proper equipment is supplied in the van you’ll be taking alongside with the team, and if you need any assistance with weapons, my son will help you.” Jeno grumbled softly at the mention of himself, leaning back against the sofa.
“We are infiltrating the hideout for today, so we’ll only be providing blades for this mission. There shouldn’t be many people other than guards outside, and it will be an easy in and out mission for the treasure. Understood?”
You nodded. “And what of the mission? Is there anything I’m required to collect?” Jeno’s dad clicked his tongue at the sound of your voice, almost as if he disapproved of you talking. “Excuse me?”
“I understand you are a Park,” he continued, disregarding your question completely as he looked over to Jeno, who was sitting beside you. “And I am aware that your people raise their women as fighters, and I have nothing against it; any family shall wish to raise their children in any way they please. But in the Lee household, we do not condone any of the sort. You may have already realized that women are of a scarcity to the public eye, we like to keep it that way.”
Explains why your guys look at me like they want to eat me. You raised your eyebrow, scoffing internally at where this was going. What year are we in? Or rather, what century?
“Of course, I am sure my son has already informed you of your duties as his future wife, I believe?” The man pursed his lips, focusing steadily on Jeno. “And how to properly address all men with—well-deserved respect, of course?”
There was a flash behind your eyes, telling you that if you killed this man right now, everything coming out of his disgusting mouth would cease, but you had seen it coming anyway. The misogynistic nature of the palace, the way men looked at you like you were some kind of prey that should kept away like gold, it was very obvious.
But you plastered a smile onto your face, stopping Jeno as he began to speak. “Of course, sir. I am a Park after all, as you mentioned, so I believe it will take me some time before I can become accustomed to their new—expectations. My intention here is—well—to serve as you expect.”
Jeno’s father laid out a bright smile, showing that he believed your obedient antics as he stood up with a clap of acceptance. “I expected a bit of retaliation, as you are a Park, but you seem to have understood your position. I am glad, Miss Park, that you are able to fit our high standards.”
High standards my ass. You stood up shortly after, giving a small bow as he left, walking out of the room, presumably back to his office. With a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Jeno, who was standing next to you. “You assholes really are living in the 19th century, aren’t you?”
He ran a hand through his blond hair, glancing over at you in shock of how you had just spoken to his father versus himself. “You—what the fuck? You literally just said you’d listen!”
“Ignorant Lees,” you scolded, letting out a sound of pure disgust, thinking of the way his father had just spoken to you about women as if they were an object. “No wonder we hate you. Oppression of women like this is something you all should die for.”
But I can’t kill him yet. Jeno sighed at the sight of your defient figure, knowing that you weren’t about to give into the Lee ways. “You’re in our house now, might as well just act like a Lee too. Might make your life a lot easier.”
I need to know what they want from me first. I have to find out what their obsession with me is. “Life isn’t simple, Lee, and especially not mine. I will not ‘act’ like a Lee, and I will not hesitate to slice your ears off for being ignorant.”
“Can’t you just,” he rubbed at his temples, wondering how he was even going to control you during the mission, “act like a lady? Like a girl? Be nice and shit, you know?”
With a soft growl, you jabbed sharply at the man’s stomach, making him fall back into the couch with a loud thud, gaining the attention of the other fighters. You gave them all a little smile, waving them away as you turned back to the man you were supposed to call your fiancee. “You’re fucking crazy—”
You slapped both of his thighs, making all of the others look back at you as you straddled his lap, grabbing his neck between your hands. “Lee,” you said in a hushed tone, pressing a finger to his windpipe as he attempted to speak. “You’re young, you’re handsome, and you’re an absolute idiot. Use that brain of yours to think for a bit, just a little. Think of all the time women treated you so good, listened to you like you were their master.”
Jeno’s breath hitched as your grip on his neck tightened, his surprise turning to anger and then...arousal? “They were all on their knees for you, weren’t they? Giving you exactly what you wanted, when you wanted, making you feel like you were so in control. You liked that, didn’t you?”
“Women are not any less than men,” your tone was so soft now, but harsh in his mind as your hands grew hotter and hotter in his skin. “We never were. You are the same age as me, I am not any less important that you are and most certainly not because I am a woman.”
He didn’t know if he was supposed to be finding all of this so very hot, but he couldn’t help but want the grip around his neck to tighten. Jeno watched you with as steady eyes as possible, but you could see him faltering with your movements, letting you know silently that you had won this time.
“Watch your mouth, Lee,” you spat, a little louder as you got off of him, turning away to where Mark reentered the room, calling everyone out. “It could cause you some trouble in the real world.”
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“I don’t really get it either,” Mark said, gaining your attention. “I mean—I heard you talking to Jeno. I don’t really get why my father’s always so—stupid about the whole gender thing.”
You were sitting in the back of the van, beside Mark as he attempted to show you his interesting gadgets that he had set up very intricately. It wasn’t that you were necessarily interested in whatever he was showing you, but rather that there was a less likely chance of you wanting to kill him over the other Lees or Jeno.
You nodded slowly, glad that at least one person had a bit of common sense. “I haven’t—seen any women around other than my servant. Where even—are they?” The question was more to yourself than to him, the curiosity of where they were hidden in the palace intriguing you.
“There are women in the house,” he continued, typing into a laptop that was showing some corrupt-looking software. “I—have sisters. They’re in the east wing, though, away from everyone else. They aren’t allowed out of their rooms unless they want to talk with the others, and there’s an old drawing room where they all gather.”
“Men aren’t really allowed in the east wing,” Mark glanced over at you, shining remorse in his eyes. “Not unless they’re married to them. Or if—it’s their mother. I visit my mom sometimes, but I haven’t seen my sisters since—well, a long time.”
“I mean, I used to sneak up there when I was younger to talk to my sisters—and Jeno actually used to come with me, but our father found us one day and—he wasn’t happy. He gave us a long lecture about how men and women weren’t equals and whatnot, it was basically just bullshit.”
“I still go though,” he let out a short cough, avoiding your gaze. “I see my sisters in my mom’s room all the time, but other than that—I really can’t.”
Your eyes widened at his words. They don’t allow siblings to see each other? What kind of—oppression is this? Isn’t it too much? You thought back to your home, where you had grown up alongside your baby brother your entire life, caring for him so deeply.
It hurt to even think about not having a relationship with Jisung; he was probably the only other person that you truly loved other than your mother. “Are you—serious?”
“Yeah,” his voice was smaller, the clash of the keyboard masking the pain as he gulped. “Um, we’re almost there. There’s—blades in the front, and like—other weapons and stuff. I don’t think you’ll need that many, anyway, we aren’t expecting much resistance anyway.”
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“I will slice your arm off,” you hissed at one of Jeno’s teammates, scowling as they eyed you as if you were candy, but then widened their eyes at your harshness. “Which one do you want? I take requests everyday, you know.”
Jeno watched the scene from behind, stepping in to grab your arm and pull you away from them, sheathing the knife you had out back into the safety of your boot. You yanked yourself back, cursing at him for having such a tight grip, wanting to punch this man as well.
You looked so—confident, in Jeno’s point of view. Maybe a little too confident from the way you always stood straight and held yourself up as if you were more powerful than any other one of the Lees in the crowd currently, and he wanted to test it. He wanted to test to see if you, a woman, were just as confident as you portrayed yourself to the people.
“Why doesn’t Park go in first?” Jeno suggested out of nowhere, the sound rattling through everyone’s ears as they looked at him. “Unless, anyone else would like to volunteer themselves? You’re free to go.”
Silence rang through the air, making you look back at the men with an eyebrow raised, surprised that no one offered themselves. Mark scurried over to where Jeno was, whispering a short few words into his ear before his brother pushed him away, scowling. “I don’t really care.”
“—Is your friendly chatter over, Lee?” You asked with an amused expression, titling your head sideways at him as he glanced back over to you. “Shouldn’t you take the lead, as well, the leader of your unit? Or would you rather pass it down to a measly little Park?”
The last word was mockery, allowing a small smirk to break from your face as he stepped closer to you. “No, I’d rather test you. As the leader, I think I’d like to see what kind of skills my future wife supposedly has.”
Future wife. The title burned a fire inside your bones, urging you to move a step forward and stab him. Future wife my ass, fucker.
“If you insist,” you continued, turning around to avoid his stance. “I’ll move in first then, if it’s such a game for you Lees. The rest can follow.”
“Don’t order my men around.”
You clenched your teeth, shooting a sharp gaze to the blond man. “The rest can follow.” Disregarding his want to start another argument, you left him behind, moving past from behind the van to where the hideout was, guarded nicely by large guards.
You wished you had been given another weapon, because the knife inside your boot was not going to kill the two of them without adding suspicion to the other. Fuck Lees and their stupidass policies. They’re gonna get themselves killed.
Well lucky for them, they had you. The blade went soaring straight into the back of the first guard, a pierce to the heart as he fell a silent thud, making the other unaware as he was turned around. You made your move them, whipping your head back once before creeping towards the man, pulling the knife out as quietly as you could.
It didn’t seem to be completely quiet, however, since the other guard had whirled back to see you crouched over the now-dead man. He raised his glock, moving to shoot at you and missing as you sent the blade into the flesh of his shin, making him fall down.
Crawling over to the other man, you wrestled the gun out of his hands slipping it into your belt as you slit his throat with a quick motion, making sure to look away as you did so. As much as you had fought and killed all your life, the one thing you could never get over was the sight of a person loosing their life, no matter how horrible their deed was.
You stood up, looking back to where you had been hiding to see no one, your eyes rolling annoyingly. Jeno has most likely ordered the rest of his fighters to the back of the hideout, giving you absolutely no backup. Eithier he had full confidence in you, or he wanted you to die, and you knew it was the latter.
Moving past the gate, you scanned the area with a quick eye, realizing that there were no other guards to be seen. It was weird, even though Mark had told you before that many weren’t going to be there, but it was odd for a hideout to have less than ten guards. Perhaps, there were more in the back?
As you moved closer to the building, you hid on the side, pressing yourself against the wall as you eased closer to the door. Just as you did so, you felt a hand pulling the glock out of your belt, making your heart jump for moment before you put a hand over the gun and swiped with your other hand, hoping to get the person in the neck.
But a tight grip was met with your wrist instead, your eyes focusing on Jeno’s as he smirked in pride. The motion made you growl, twisting your hand out of his and raising your leg up quickly, giving him a hard blow to the abdomen.
“Fucking asshole,” you watched him collapse, groaning slightly as you stepped closer, and then took a step back. “Trying to play with me? Dangerous game, Lee. Stick to your gun play, maybe, I have better physical skills.”
Just as you turned your head, a hand was on your ankle, yanking you down harshly on top of the man. It was a slight miss, the knife skimming the end of his ear as you took account to what he just did. “Physical skills? Bullshit, Park. You’re weak.”
This wasn’t the place to do any of this, but you sat up hastily anyway, wrapping one hand around his throat as you did so. Judging from the way he liked it so much earlier, you expected that he would go limp when you did that, and the assumption was correct. Your knife pulled up from beside him, coming close to his face instead.
“I’m weak? You’re the one trying to kill me when we’re here for other purposes.” You were tempted to nick his gorgeous face, let just a drop of blood trickle down those sharp features. “All you have is strength, Lee. No brain, no logic, not even a bit of skill.”
Climbing off him, you watched as he shook himself back to his senses, the huge eyes being replaced by his rough ones. “Are you admitting to not having strength then, Park? Because I’ll have to agree with you on that.”
“You’re such a child,” you said for the second time, the words hitting him with a roll of his eyes. “No wonder all you Lees are so competitive, it must be a hereditary disease. The need to be the best, what a joke.”
Jeno’s eyes flashed with your mockery towards his family, his eyes moving quickly to a new guard standing behind you, aiming with a glock towards your head. He wasn’t sure if the guard even noticed him, but he definitely thought he didn’t when a bullet went through his head, marking his death immediately.
“You talk to much but do so little,” he looked over at you, grabbing you by the arm and shoving you forward. “You haven’t proved shit to me yet, then, and I don’t care if you think my family is competitive. We fucking are, and we like to win.”
“Start boasting about skill when you’re the highest family of NCT,” he nudged you towards the entrance. “I haven’t even seen the Parks on the chain, and you know why? Because you cannot win.”
The two of you were now inside the building, pressed against the wall as you tried not to screech back. “Not everything is a game, Lee.”
“Wrong,” the both you were now at the end of the hallway, his breath hot in your ear. “The entire world is a game, Park. We’re all just a bunch of players.”
The last syllable of his word ended with a loud clink to the front of the two of you, a grenade being thrown to end of the hallway. It burst almost immediately, and surprisingly, smoke covered the area instead, the disgusting scent filling up your lungs fully.
Jeno gave out a violent cough, covering his mouth as he attempted to see through the dark colors, his eyes straining as smoke filled his vision. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone inside, it was just the drugs that they were here for, stocked high in the hideout which was barely guarded.
But he knew something was wrong, when he reached forward with his hand to feel nothing but the air, your presence completely gone. “Park? PARK?!” Jeno stretched out both his arms, feeling around him as his heart sped up, his skin only meeting the cool brick of the wall.
Fuck, he had messed up. He had one job, and that one job was to make sure you were safe. It was supposed to be easy, a way to mock you through this whole mini mission, and he had promised his father that he would look after you. You, of course, were the prize after all.
Even Mark’s warning with bright in his head from earlier, the ‘she can’t get hurt, or else you know what’ll happen’ that he had ignored with a thought of ‘nothing will happen.’ “Park?! Fuck, Park! Where the fuck are you?!”
His voice was loud, almost an imitation of himself as he heard it echo through the hallway, not a person in sight or feeling distance. “Jeno!”
Jeno whipped his head back at the sound of his name, the sound being all too familiar as he saw a light at the end of the hallway, the door being wide open as he moved closer, his vision covering him from seeing anything. As he got closer, his knees bucked, almost making him fall before the owner of the voice yanked him out, pulling him back outside.
“Did you see who set it off?” Mark pulled his brother up, his eyes scanning the other’s as he coughed out the rest of the smoke. His mind was going haywire right now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or from the fact that he had completely lost you— “Jeno!”
He pushed off Mark from his body, making the other man stumbled back as he took a seat against the wall, leaning back as he rubbed at his eyes. “I fucking—”
Jeno closed his eyes again, thinking back only seconds ago to where he had just murmured into your ear, the bomb going off right as he finished. There was no way you had gotten out, he would’ve been able to at least see you make your way back.
Your presence had gone almost as quickly as it was there, like you had vanished in a single moment, as if you had never existed in the first place. He grabbed his hair in his hands, letting out a low snarl. “She was fucking—right there! Right there, Mark! She was right, fucking—in front of me. I w-was talking to her, and the bomb went off and she literally vanished.”
“You lost her?”
If only he had been more aware of what they were actually doing there, and the mission they had to finish quickly, maybe he wouldn’t have taken his time to mock you. But it wasn’t true, he would’ve done anything in his power to prove that you were less than what you seemed, and it was exactly what he tried to do, while loosing you in the process.
The smoke had dissipated after a few minutes, and a few of Jeno’s team came out the door, hands full of suitcases and bags. Even when inquired by him, they swore that it wasn’t them that set off the bomb, and that it must’ve been a trap that the owners of the hideout set up. But it didn’t make sense, when they told him that they searched the whole building and found no one; there was no fucking way that you could’ve gone away that easily.
“Maybe she ran away?” One of the men whispered to the other, making Jeno perk up to them. “That’s all girls can do anyway, fucking run away from problems like the filthy sluts they are. She should’ve stayed inside like a good girl.” The sound of degradation going to your name set something off inside of him, making him step closer to the batch of men as they chuckled heartily.
“Watch your mouth, soldier,” he grabbed the first one by the collar, pulling him up to his face. “I’ll make you bleach your tongue clean if I hear words like that coming out of you again, hear? You’re talking about Park Y/N, one of the highest ranked soldiers of NCT, and I expect some respect would go to her. Hear?”
Jeno shook of the guy, pushing him back as he turned to Mark, who was watching the scene with wide eyes. There was no way he had just defended your name, no fucking way he had just told his men to respect a Park. But that was what he did, and it had to be done; there was no denial that you were a better fighter than any of them there, even though he wouldn’t have admitted that only a few minutes ago.
And there was no way that you had run away, and he knew it. A Park never ran away from a fight, and regardless you, you were beyond any of the other Parks that he had met in the past. You sounded like you were of a higher breed, so much pride in your body that you wouldn’t have fled like a lower clan member. It was just all in the matter of where you had gone, or rather, who had taken you.
“Jeno, we have to go back,” Mark finally spoke up, his eyes trailing his brother’s as he looked up at him. “I know, I know, but we have to. Father will get—suspicious.” But he would get more suspicious when the team came back, the prized woman he was supposed to watch, gone from their hands in an instant.
He was right, the entire world was a game play, just filled with every human as tiny pawns that were unknown to the common world. But you weren’t a tiny pawn to the Lees, especially not to Jeno’s father, you were the queen on the large chess board, protecting yourself and everyone you. Yet he was wrong, wrong about your weakness, but his heart was bursting inside of him as he looked towards the ground.
“Let’s go, then.”
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well, part two!! so jeno’s not a COMPLETE asshole this time, but i think he still fits the POV. this took a while as well, so i hope y’all enjoyed and be rrrready for the next (and maybe final?) part!!
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