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aninklingof · 11 months

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A Ticklish Promise (Part 1)

This is part 1 of a 2-part fic! This part does not contain tickling (there’s a little but mostly exposition) The second part will be all tickling (I will link it here when I post it)

Warnings: angst, some dialogue like “do it kill him”, mentions of prison Dream, swearing

Enjoy!

~~~~~

Sapnap stared daggers at the bound sleeping form in front of him. How did this even happen? Am I fucking dreaming? He thought to himself as his thoughts barreled through his brain faster than he could comprehend.

It was supposed to be a normal day. He would go to prime path to visit a few people, get some building materials and ingredients for dinner, then head back to Kinoko Kingdom to work on some houses and cook for him and Karl and George (if the Brit even decided to wake up for food.) Yet here Sapnap was, in the middle of a forest with a sleeping Dream tied up at his feet.

He was confused, concerned, sad and angry. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he resting hidden in a cave or high up in the branches of the dark oak tree he’d found him slumped over against the trunk of? He looked so malnourished and frail, nothing like the man he once thought would be his friend forever.

Dream had escaped prison nearly a week ago and most of the server was still feverishly searching for him. The one day Sapnap took for himself to work on his kingdom, the one day he wasn’t meant to be looking for the dirty blonde man, he falls directly in his lap.

Sapnap’s own words from months ago replayed in his head, louder than the others that screamed and filled his mind with cacophony: “I'll kill you Dream. If you break out of prison, Tommy won't be the one to take your last life. I will. Remember that.”

The blaze hybrid summoned the enchanted axe— the axe that once belonged to a friend, that snuffed out countless lives, that Sapnap kept with him to prevent Dream from obtaining it— and raised it above his head.

Just one swing and it’ll all be over. All the pain and suffering he caused will never happen again. You can save everyone, the ravenhead repeated. He had to do it. He promised Tommy he’d protect him. Do it now, kill him!

Weakly Sapnap dropped the axe to the ground and collapsed on his knees, his shoulders shaking in quiet sobs he heaved into his hands. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. Dream was his brother, his best friend since day one— no matter how monstrous his actions he couldn’t bear to kill him.

After a few minutes of crying his breathing slowed into the occasional hiccup and he wiped his tears. Even if Sapnap couldn’t kill Dream, he couldn’t leave his actions unpunished. With his thoughts now more cohesive, he began to form an idea. A childish yet equally devious idea.

~~~

Dream woke with a shout from a firm prod to his chest, eyes wide and panicky yet unfocused from his sudden return to consciousness.

“Woah there, easy Dream,” a familiar voice hushed.

The ex-prisoner blinked rapidly to regain coherency, his wild green eyes finally focusing on the black haired blaze hybrid who knelt over him concerned.

“N-no, no—!” Dream exclaimed, bucking like an angry horse as he slowly came to the realization he was bound by his ankles and wrists by what felt like strong rope.

“Dream calm down, you’ll hurt yourself,” Sapnap said with an edge of worry to his words. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Let me go! Let me go!! I'm not going back!” The blonde continued to panic more and more. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Dream! Listen!” The ravenette raised his voice the smallest bit, scaring the bucking man into silence. He shivered in fear, looking like a wounded animal.

“There you go. Sorry I had to raise my voice. I'm not gonna hurt you Dream, but you’ll hurt yourself if you keep thrashing like that,” Sapnap spoke calmly.

“Y-you—“ Dream swallowed hard “You’re not?”

“No, no I'm not Dream. I'm just trying to check if you have any injuries on you. Your hands looked pretty cut up, I already cleaned and bandaged them while you were sleeping.”

“How l-long have I been out? And why am I tied—“the ex-prisoner trailed off, utterly shocked at how gentle Sapnap was being with him.

“You’re tied up cuz I knew you’d panic when you woke up and tried to run away,” Sapnap explained softly. “I don’t know how long you were asleep for, I found you under a dark oak tree over an hour ago.”

Dream mentally scolded himself for allowing himself to fall asleep while he rested out in the open. Before he could ask any other questions Sapnap spoke again “Do you have any other wounds anywhere I can treat for you?”

“M-my ankle hurts,” Dream said hesitantly. “I tripped on a rock or a branch a few days ago and it still hurts pretty bad.”

The blaze hybrid nodded and moved to Dream’s bound ankles. “I’m gonna untie your legs. Please don’t kick me or anything.” He said before fiddling with the knot. The thought had crossed the mask-wearing man’s mind, but he decided against it when he was called out.

“Left or right?”

“L-Left.”

Warm calloused hands examined Dream’s injured foot, he winced when they pressed into certain spots and he muffled a whimper when Sapnap experimentally tried to flex it.

“Looks sprained. I’m gonna wrap it so you can’t hurt it more.” Sapnap stated before reaching for a roll of gauze and wrapping Dream’s ankle carefully. “How’s that feel? Not too tight?”

Dream shook his head. “It’s good. Thank you,” he muttered.

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s the worst of it. Thank you.”

With a hum Sapnap scooted back up to be closer to Dream’s head, burnt orange eyes staring into green silently.

“Why are you doing this?” Dream asked.

“Doing what?”

“Helping me. I thought you said you’d kill me if I escaped the vault.”

Sapnap sighed and leaned back on his hands. “I couldn’t do it. No matter how sick and twisted your actions were, I couldn’t kill someone I trusted like a brother for so long.”

Dream didn’t answer for a moment, the words processing in his brain. “You’re not gonna let me go,” he stated.

“No, I can’t do that.”

“I don’t want to go back there Sapnap,” Dream rambled, his eyes flashing with growing anxiety again. “Sam and Quackity tortured me. I can’t go back, I can’t.”

“Relax, I’m not taking you back,” Sapnap hummed. “I’ll probably bring you back to Kinoko with me until I figure out what to do with you.”

“You’re… taking me to Kinoko? But I—“

“I know what you said. I’m still not sure if it’s the best option, but I don’t have much of a choice,” Sapnap interrupted, his jaw clenching slightly. “However, I’m not dumb enough to let you just waltz in there and do whatever you want.”

Dream stared silently into Sapnap’s fiery eyes, waiting for the hybrid to continue. “You’re gonna be kept in a cell. It’s not nearly as secure as pandora’s vault, so I know it wouldn’t be hard for you to escape if you tried. Which is why I have to give you….. incentive, to stay put.”

“Incentive…?” Dream repeated skeptically.

Sapnap smirked devilishly and placed a hand on Dream’s stomach. He grabbed the hem of his ratty hoodie and dragged it teasingly until it lay bunched against his sternum. “You remember back in the early days when it was just you, me and George wasting away our afternoons in the sun?”

Dream nodded, nervous at his new vulnerability. The air felt cool on his bare skin and his tummy quivered at the unfamiliar change.

“And you remember how George and I would tackle you to the ground and hold you down while we tickled you silly?” Sapnap was grinning now, lazily dragging his fingers over the blonde’s exposed belly. Just this simple action sent sparks of tickly electricity through Dream, his freckles cheeks flushing a warm pink and the corners of his mouth quirking up in a shaky smile.

Dream knew he was sensitive but he hadn’t felt a touch this soft in a long time. It seemed prison had made him more sensitive and probably touch starved. He resisted the giggles bubbling up his throat already.

“You loved it when we did that…. You loved it when we tickled you to tears….” Sapnap reminisced, fluttering his fingers a little as he continued. “I even remember your worst spot I think…”

Dream shook his head a little as his smile widened enough to show his teeth. “N-no, Sahapnap— y-you can’t—“

“If I recall, it was right here~” Sapnap’s devious fingers focused on Dream’s belly button, tracing circles around it teasingly. The blonde man giggled out loud at this, scrunching his face and wiggling his torso a little.

“Nohoho, yohohou cahahan’t behe s-seheherious Sahahapnap—“ Dream snickered and squirmed. “D-Dohohon’t t-t—“

“Naww~ still can’t say the word baby~?” Sapnap cooed, drawing louder giggles from the bound man below him. Dream’s legs started to kick a little so Sapnap tossed a leg over Dream and settled on his upper thighs.

“Nononono Sahahahap gehehehet ohohoff—“ Dream giggled frantically as he became even more immobilized, slowly realizing that the way his arms were bound behind his back left him utterly defenseless as well as arched his sensitive belly toward the tickles.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Sapnap started, drumming his fingers around Dream’s too-ticklish belly button. “I’m going to absolutely torment your little ticklish belly button as a reminder to be a good ticklish boy when I take you to Kinoko. Understand~?”

~~~~~

#seans tickle fics #but also not a tickle fic #part 1 #dsmp fic #Dream #c!dream #sapnap #c!sapnap #angst #tickles in second part #dsmp fanfic

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 3 years

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Trick the Trickster L.L

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Betrayed by the TVA you find yourself on the run with two deadly variants. Forced to bunk with the god of mischief, you find out just how mischievous he is.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ minors dni, just some downright nasty shit I suppose? cuddlefucking? Some possessiveness, p in v, degrading, dumbification, dirty talk?, Loki spoilers, Slyvie, a bit sad for one second, a bit of a fluffy ending I suppose?

Word count: 1.9k

A little note: Hey, just wanted to drop this here. Started off as an idea after I watched ep 3 of Loki many weeks ago and I’ve just found it in me to finish it so I hope you enjoy it, it’s 1:30am so I’ve proof read this with tired eyes sorry for any mistakes! I also wanted to add a massive thank you for the love on my last post, it’s really uplifting and although I don’t post as frequently as other blogs do, I really appreciate it so thank you from the bottoms of my heart <3

Gif credits @lokitvsource

Sylvie and Loki cut through last of the TVA agents, incinerating them to nothing with their own batons. A small part of you laments quietly for your fellow agents as you watch them turn into nothing, not even a spec of dust, but the way they broke your trust, your freedom, has you silently laughing in their nonexistent faces. Loki grabs your arm, practically dragging you along into a sprint, no time for careful footing across the unfamiliar terrain. Lamentis. At least that's what Sylvie had called it when the three of you fell blindly through the portal, however long ago. The pair run at breakneck speed, Loki's grip on your elbow never faltering, even in the exposing, open rocky plain, even as he sends Sylvie to scout the small cave whilst he mutters something about "lesser variant" and "more expandable". No, Loki keeps his hand firmly around your elbow, though you can't quite decide if it's to for your safety or his security.

You don’t dare break the silence between the two of you, almost sprinting forward when Sylvie proclaims that the cave is safe. In fact you would’ve, if the god of mischief hadn’t blocked your path the second you set one foot in front of the other, that protective hand sliding down to your hip holding you in place.

“Follow me.” A command soft and deadly.

You stalk quietly behind him, knowing better than to argue against him, knowing that your voice would fail you if you tried. So you stay silent and compliant, playing the role of the damsel in distress. Or maybe it’s not a role, maybe it’s who you are for you do not know. Your whole existence, your entire purpose was a lie and that somehow manages to scare you more than sleeping in a cave with these deadly variants. More than being on the run from the very organisation that disintegrated a man for a miss word.

A hand flies up over his shoulder, a command to pause, to let him scout ahead and remain in charge. Sylvie scoffs and mumbles a polite “prick” under her breath, smiling sarcastically when he turns back around. He scouts onwards, out of sight for a few seconds and returns to where he’d left the two of you.

"Sylvie's taking first watch,” He smiles at the variant, though it’s less than friendly much like her colourful response.

Once again his hand finds you in the darkness, settling on your lower back this time, and you wonder if its to calm himself rather than you.

“Try and get some sleep." A small ball of light appears in his palm and floats off into the air, acting as a tiny floating lamp in the vast sea of darkness. He nods towards the bedrolls he’d conjured from the stagnant air and you move towards them.

"What if the planet blows up from the inside out whilst we're sleeping?" The words bounce and echo off of the walls of solid rock, as does the scuff of your shoes as you sit on the thin blanket.

"She may be a lesser variant, but Sylvie knows these apocalypses like the back of her, my, our, hand. We’re safe for now. Sleep."

A nod is all you offer in return before you lay down, teetering on the edge of exhaustion yet kept wide awake by the fear curling around your neck as if to remind you that even in rest, you’re chased by death.

The uneven, uncomfortable ground seems to grow softer benaeath you, the bright flash of Loki's magic poorly concealed as he lays some feet away, unbothered by your presence.

You fold your arms in an attempt to preserve what little heat your body gave off, your teeth chattering quietly.

"What is it now?" Of course he’d heard your teeth chattering from so far away, maybe Sylvie was right, he is a prick.

"It's a little cold."

"What are you talking about? It's perfectly fine." But of course Loki couldn't feel the cold, his Jotun blood running cold every hour of every day.

Maybe he realises that, or is bluffing, either way a little while later his clothes rustle as he moves about, stills for a moment and shuffles once more until he's close enough to touch you.

"What are you doing?" You ask, “Loki?”

"Shush." He commands, shuffling even closer still. He's surprisingly warm and ridiculously close as he wraps himself around you, his much taller body enveloping your short frame. His warmth pulses around you, easing the chill from your bones ever so slightly, an so you shuffle about trying to find some comfort on the damned cave floor.

"Stop moving."

"Can't help it, m'still cold and uncomfortable.” Your frustration is evident when your voice raises a little in volume, a sudden realisation that the god behind you could snap his fingers, and end your life in less than a second soon has you quieting down quickly. Loki is silent for a few heartbeats before he speaks.

"Do you trust me?"

The answer was obvious, he's the god of mischief for heavens sake, so why did some small part of you want to say yes?

"Of course not, Laufeyson." You reply.

"Good." His hand snakes down from its position on your stomach in a slow, possibly even cautious movement, the thin shirt and slacks doing little to avoid a fire from igniting in their path. Seconds later he pops open the button on your trousers and comes to an abrupt stop.

"Need to hear you say it sweetheart," Loki’s voice is quiet and hot against the shell of your ear. The hard press of his toned abdomen is firmly pressed against your back, his hips still, the curve of his dick brushing against you.

"Please Loki..."

“Please what, dove?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he waits, taunting you with his proximity.

“Touch me.”

“Touch you? Here? Does that satisfy your needs?" His hand slithers back upwards, resting on your lower abdomen possessively, but you enjoy it. You enjoy his every touch.

"N-no.”

“Hmm, how about her little dove? Is this where you want me?” Loki’s hand is on the move once more, down, down into your panties.

You nod against his shoulder, grinding yourself onto his delicately working hands. Loki pauses, only for a moment, to remove your trousers and once again he’s touching you.

He’s gentle with his movements, alternating between circling your clit and your hole, begging for him to enter. He grinds himself against you as he pushes his two fingers in, long and slender brushing against all the right places. He pulls moan after moan from your body, simply with his hands and my god you’re so close to begging for him to never stop.

"For someone who's so cold, your pussy sure feels warm." He talks pure filth into your ear, feeling the way your pussy clenches around his fingers at the words he speaks so freely.

He shifts once more removing his fingers much to your distaste, his trousers coming down quickly. Loki pumps himself a few times, massaging the head of his cock against your dripping folds, pushing into your weeping hole and pulling away a few times until he’s thrusting into you, stretching you open even more.

"Gonna let me in, hmm? Gonna let me into this tight little cunt?" Loki pushes himself into you until he’s fully sheathed, groaning quietly as he waits completely still adjusting to the feel of your pussy hugging him.

Loki’s first few movements are slow and cautious, for being fucked by man is one thing, but by a god? He didn’t want to push you, until you start grinding your hips pushing for him to let lose. He picks up his speed with the next thrust, and the next, until he’s fucking you at a brutal pace.

His thrusts are calculated, each one deeper than the rest, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. It’s almost all too much and yet you want more, he’s fucking you relentlessly; until he’s not. Until he’s completely still, and in that moment you would’ve done anything he asked. You try take matters into your own hands, grinding yourself against his cock and he chuckles.

"God you're pathetic, pushing back onto me like a bitch in heat." A tease through and through, truly the god of mischief as he remains stationary for a few more long seconds. Then he moves so hard, so fast your eyes roll and your toes curl.

"Look at you, half way to ruined by your prisoner,"

"Oh god, fuck." Is all you can string together in the heat of the pleasure.

"That's right dove, you're being fucked by a god, how does it feel." His fingers grip at your jaw with little mercy as he claims your mouth, swallowing every moan, his tongue caressing your own, you were his and he was taking you. Taking you in and then taking you apart, by any means necessary.

Your legs tremble as invisible hands stroke your clit with such a speed, you’re unsure if you can hold off of the looming orgasm as Loki uses you. His fuck toy, that’s all you are. And he was going to ensure that he used you properly, to his satisfaction and your own.

“Please, My King, let me cum please. Need it so bad.” As if something snapped within him, Loki’s thrusts falter before his hips are driving into with a new found enthusiasm.

“Say it again.”

“My king,” You mumble, “My King, please.”

“Again.” Your core turns molten at the soft gravel in his voice, that command. A perfect, wet and hot hole for him. For your king.

“My king I-”

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Loki I need to cum, fill me up My King, make me yours.” The voice does not sound like your own as you being to make promises to him, promises he’d make sure you withstood.

“Cum for me little dove, give it all to me.”

His hand slides under your leg, lifting it into the air, sliding home that little bit deeper, each thrust better than the last until he’s moaning your name, like a prayer. A god moaning your name.

The sound pushes you over the edge and your body becomes a shaking, crying mess, the aftershocks reverberating through your body as he uses your cunt to fuck himself to an orgasm, fucking you through yours.

His hips slow as he cums deep inside of you, releasing his seed against your cervix making sure to fuck it into you so deep it didn’t dare come back out.

Your breath isn’t your own anymore, your body, you barely hold onto that little piece of your mind but you’d give it all to him in a heartbeat.

He pulls out of you with a groan, and you whimper at the emptiness. Missing the feel of him inside you, how completely full you felt when he thrusted into you just moments before.

Loki kisses you once more, though it’s tender, a silent “thank you” and “are you okay?” But you were beyond okay, you feel as if you’re floating, as if you’d tasted the starts on his lips, you’d felt his hands and mouth on you in ways that many would die for.

As you lay there on the cusp of slumber, too tired to form a coherent sentence, warmth washes over you like an imaginary blanket tucked over your shoulders. Loki’s smile is beyond mischievous and you make a silent pact with yourself, as your eyes are closing finally giving into the fatigue, to one day trick the trickster.

#marvel smut #smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #Loki smut #sylvie #loki x reader #tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston smut #marvel #Thor #loki series #lamentis #marvel imagine #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #marvel fic #loki episode 3

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pascalslittlebrat · 3 years

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Do It for Me

Rating: E , 18+ ONLY!

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 6683

Warnings: alcohol, cigarettes, look this is pure filth okay. we have: little bit of choking, spanking, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex-male recieving, D/S tones, dirty talk, praise, PIV-unprotected (wrap those willies), squirting, honestly Javier just needs his own warning, if I missed anything, let me know.

Summary: One night, that’s all it was supposed to be. However, it seems that with Javier Peña it’s more than just a one night thing.

A/N: This came out of this very thirsty post that @221bshrlocked got me riled up with and the lovely gif at the end that I’m not adding to this because tumblr will probably remove. But just know this is very much based on that gif. Also, big thanks to @purplepascal042 for helping this whole thot process. I want to apologize because literally this is just pure smut and yeah me writing this was literally this one shot grabbing me by the neck and calling me a whore😂 Also, this is not beta’d so forgive any mistakes and enjoy xo

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You regretted knocking on his door the moment he opened it. The moment you noticed he was shirtless, your eyes meeting golden skin, broad shoulders, soft stomach, and the teasing happy trail that led to exactly what you knew was hiding under those jeans riding his hips, having to refrain from running your tongue over your lips at the thought of tracing down it. You regret it even more when you see the smug look on his face, eyeing you as if he can read the thoughts running through your brain over how ridiculously good he looked leaning against his stupid door frame.

“Addicted after one night?” Javier asks with a smirk, quirking an eyebrow at you. You hate the way your body is already starting to heat up, the way it was reacting from just the way he was now raking his eyes over your body.

“In your dreams Peña, Connie asked me to drop you off some leftovers on my way to my apartment,” you scoff, trying to act like you had some reserve, as if you hadn’t agreed to bring it to him with ulterior motives in mind. You would not give him the satisfaction of throwing yourself at him when he’s looking at you like that. You shoved the container in his direction, trying to keep yourself from looking over his body again, it shouldn’t be legal for him to look this good.

He takes the container from you, but you can tell from the way that smirk hasn’t been wiped off his face that he doesn’t believe you at all. You tried to shake the feeling away again, the part of you that wanted to slam your lips against his and wrap your arms around his neck.

He runs his finger over the edge of the lid where some gravy had dripped out, his eyes meet yours as he brings his finger to his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it before sucking on it, the memory of his tongue doing just that on your clit, made you freeze. You bite your lip trying to shove the desire down that was quickly rising to the surface.

“Mmm,” he moans out softly, watching your reaction. He watched the way your eyes were trained on his mouth and his thumb, the way your lips parted a bit, he almost missed the way your breath hitched but he didn’t and he could feel himself starting to strain in his pants from just the sight of how flustered you were starting to get. “Let me guess she made a nice roast? How kind of you to bring this and yourself to me.”

You grit your teeth at the snide comment, hating how easily he was reading you. You wouldn’t give into him though, not yet. You wanted to at least feel like you had put up a fight, that your core wasn’t already slick with arousal at the thought of him completely wrecking you again, that you hadn’t been thinking all day about how to get him to fuck you again. “I just came to drop off the food Javi, don’t be such a cocky asshole,” you mutter rolling your eyes at him as you cross your arms over your chest.

Javier’s eyes moved down to your chest, eyeing the way your cleavage and bra were now peaking out from where you had your shirt unbuttoned. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” he asks, voice low and deep. His heated gaze was on you again and you tried to refrain from squirming under it.

“I told you it was just for one night,” you breathe out, repeating the words you had told him before you had left early this morning. It was just supposed to be one night too but god you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all the day, the things he could do, the way he could make your body light up with every little touch.

He takes a step closer to you, a part of you wants to step back, but you know what he’s doing. He’s wanting you to cave, to admit that you want him, and hell if you didn’t want to try and make him beg for you instead of the other way around. “Don’t lie to me, princesa,” he whispers into your ear. You stood your ground, a shiver going down your spine when his hand went down to your hip, the other trailing down your jaw, it was warm and rough, and you knew he had to be aware of the goosebumps that were now covering your skin.

You hated the way the nickname immediately got a reaction out of you, then add in his touch, and you knew your resolve was hanging by a thread. “It’ll be so much easier on you if you’re just honest.”

You gulp and you hope he missed the reaction but you can practically feel the shit eating grin next to you. “Fuck you, Peña,” you hiss out, fighting back a whimper when you feel his tongue run along your that sensitive area between your jaw and your neck.

“You want to, don’t you?” he chuckles darkly, pulling back and seeing the way your eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated, he knew he just had to play with you a little more and you’d be in the palm of his hands, ready to follow every instruction he gives like the good girl he knows you were. “That reminds me, you forgot something last night. I was going to bring them to the office tomorrow, but since you’re here…”

You look at him confused, barely able to process anything properly after the feeling of his tongue. You watch as the smug look returns and he walks into his apartment. You take a step in the doorway, you had an idea of what he meant. You watch as he lights a cigarette, lips wrapping around the end of it as he reaches for something on his coffee table. It was like he was trying to torture you, adding a cigarette to his half undressed state. You always got distracted watching him smoke, something about it always seeming so sensual, especially now that you knew exactly what he could do.

You fight back a groan and look around the apartment, remembering the various positions he had you in it the night before. The way he had you pressed up against the wall-his mouth hot on yours, the way you straddled him on the couch-pulling at his hair as you ground your wet core against his erection through those damn tight pants, or the way he’d pin you down on his bed as his mouth hungrily lapped at your core-as if you were the sweetest fruit he’d ever had. You can feel the need building up again, the man whose apartment you were in, the only one you wanted to make it and you crumble.

He looked at you as he took a drag from his cigarette, you could practically see the gleam in his eyes as he held up your lacy panties from last night, “Missing these princesa?”

“Come and get them, yeah?” he teases pulling his cigarette away and watching as your mouth practically drops to the ground as he brings his panties up to his nose to sniff, “Mmm they still smell as aroused as I’m sure you do right now.”

You bite your lip, the need in you becoming more prominent, you shift some, pressing your thighs together, you knew your restraint was falling, he had set a trap and you had now fallen in and become his prey. “G-Give them back,” you breathe out.

Javier brings the cigarette back to his lips, taking a drag, before letting it just dangle between his lips. His hand goes to his hips and he dangles your panties in his other, outstretching it, daring you to take it from him. “Come and get them,” he taunts before looking at you amused by how flustered you were becoming, “I wonder if the ones you have on now are just as sexy as these? I bet those are dripping.”

Your jaw clenches, knowing he was right. Your panties were definitely wet and you core was becoming more sensitive by the second, practically begging you for him. “They’re not,” you lie, moving in front of him, hating how his stance was turning you on more, he beckoned you closer and you breathing picked, god you wanted to reach out and touch him.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenges as he pulls his cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out a steady stream of smoke, his eyes were dark on yours, he wanted you to cave and god were you close to. “Take them off. Now.”

Your eyes widen at his tone and it’s like the command goes straight to your core and you knew in that moment that you couldn’t resist him, not anymore. That part of you that was ready to hand over full reign to him was out, ready to service him as he wanted.

You keep your eyes on him, maybe you had lost the battle but it didn’t mean you weren’t going to tease him. You turn around, hiking up your skirt so he can get a perfect view of your ass with lacy material that was barely covering any of it, putting your hands on each side of the waistband and making sure to shimmy your hips as you pull your panties down. You make sure to bend down enough to let him admire your ass as you pull them completely off before turning to face him. You smirk as he eyes you hungrily, watching as you fix your skirt again, as if nothing had passed between you both, your panties dangling in a hooked finger. You make sure to sway your hips as you close the distance between you both, dropping the thin material into the hand with your other panties.

He puts the cigarette out in the ashtray next to him on the bar, he knew the moment you handed him the panties that he was in charge. He runs his thumb over the very wet spot of your panties, he can smell your arousal just from where he’s holding it, and it takes everything in him to not push you down onto his couch and fuck you right there.

His eyes are intense when they meet yours, a sultry smile on his face, “I can smell your arousal from here, smell almost as good as you taste, princesa. You’re dripping wet and I haven't even done anything.”

You shiver at his words and gaze, he’s looking at you like a starved man ready to dive into his meal. He’s going to ravish you and you couldn’t help the excitement flowing through your veins at the thought of it.

He runs a finger down the outline of your jaw, watching as your breathing picks up at his touch, you were so responsive to him and he couldn’t wait to see just what else he could get out of you tonight. He couldn’t deny it, one night and he was just as reactive to you as you seemed to be of him.

Javier leaned in closer as he tilted your head up to make you look at him, you squirmed under his gaze, his lips inching closer to yours and you started leaning in, ready to feel his lips against yours. Instead Javi smirked at you, lips practically on yours, “My room. Now. I want you to undress for me the moment you walk in. Understand?”

You bite your lip and nod at him, your heart practically beating out of your chest. He was in control and every nerve in your body was ablaze knowing it. “Use your words princesa” he commands softly, making your mind seem to further lose itself in wanting nothing but him.

“Yes Javi,” you manage to breathe out, watching the satisfied look that came across his face as he nods at you before pulling away and walking towards his room. You take a deep breath before following him behind him.

You’re practically ready to get on your knees and beg for him when you see him sitting at the edge of the bed, pants unbuttoned, his pubic hair on display letting you see that there was nothing between you and his jeans to get in the way from having him, inviting you with the way his legs were slightly spread, he had one hand propped on his knee as he watched you. “Strip.”

Your hands immediately go to your shirt, unbuttoning it, keeping your eyes on his as you let it slide off your shoulder before turning around, back facing him as you let it fall. You reach behind you, unzipping your skirt, looking at him over your shoulder. His eyes are focused on you, hand on his lips, you can see the now prominent erection straining against his jeans, you can’t help the confidence it gives you, seeing him so clearly affected by you. You shimmy the skirt down adding it to the pile with your shirt, hearing the intake of breath he takes as you reach behind to unclasp your bra. You wink at him as you pull it off, dramatically dropping it in the pile before turning to face him, watching as his eyes hungrily rake over your naked form.

Javier doesn’t say a word, his mind is still on the little strip tease, to do anything but turn those dark eyes to you and beckon you over, his hand on his leg now patting his thigh, letting you know exactly where he wants you. A shiver runs down your spine at the silent command, striding over to him. You fight back a whimper as you straddle his thigh, the roughness of his jeans against your core had you grasp his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking beautiful princesa,” Javier breathes running two fingers along the curve of your breast, taking in your soft skin and every curve now that you were up close to him. “Such a good girl, you’ve listened so well. Do you remember our words from last night?”

You nod at him biting your lip, trying to keep from squirming as the thoughts of last night flood your mind, adding to your already aroused state. He raises an eyebrow and you can hear his voice in your head telling you to use your words, “If anything becomes too much or I’m not comfortable, tell you red or yellow.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, tilting your face up as his lips come down against yours. His lips are soft against yours, the hairs on his mustache brushing against your skin, it starts off gentle, his hand caressing your face, your hands wrapping around his neck. Electricity seems to spark between you both, the kiss becoming more and more demanding. HIs fingers curl into your hair pulling you closer to him, your hands find their way into his hair. You moan into his mouth at the friction of his pants against your core when he pulls you closer. He swallows your moan, his free hand gripping your hip making you brush against his thigh again as his tongue slips into your mouth.

You can taste nicotine on his tongue and something about it arouses you further. His tongue battles yours, sucking on it, making you feel it down to your core. You wanted to feel his gifted mouth on you. He pulls back, eyes dark and full of desire, he was definitely calculating just how he was going to take you and the idea excited you. “How am I going to break you tonight, princesa?” he asks, voice husky, his hand comes around your neck, “Why don’t you ride my thigh like a good girl while I think about it, yeah? After all, you wanted to pretend so bad that you didn’t want my cock, yet I can feel you drenching my pants.”

You whimper at his words, you wanted to pout, you wanted him, needed him. “Come on sweetheart, show me how much you want me to take you,” he commands, giving your neck a gentle squeeze, causing you to buck up against the rough texture of his jeans. You moan, grinding against him again, his hand on your hip tightens and you love it, love how this feels, “Look how flustered you look princesa, don’t stop, make yourself feel good.”

You place both of your hands on his shoulders, rocking your hips down against him. Your cheeks burn at his words but it feeds your desire. His hand on your hip helps guide you creating the steady rhythm, the friction becoming more and more intense. Your moans fill the room, your head falling back in pleasure,

Javier can do nothing but watch you. Your eyes were closed, lips parted, your hair was falling behind you, letting him see every look of pleasure crossing your face, his hand looked so nice around your pretty neck, your chest was heaving as the you got closer to your edge, your breasts bouncing in front of him, it was beautiful and erotic and Javier was storing every single detail in his head. He was thankful for whatever being was watching from above that allowed you both to get to this point again today, that even let him be able to have you yesterday.

He could see you getting closer, your breathing was picking up, your moans becoming more frantic, you were becoming more confident with each stroke against his thigh, more frantic. He brought his lips against yours, giving your neck another squeeze, hearing that sweet little hitch. His pants were completely drenched and he loved it, loved knowing just how wet you were from this. He let go of his hold on your throat moving his hand down to your clit.

You pulled away from his lips, eyes wide, a loud moan escaping your lips, curses spilled out of your lips as you dug yours nails into his back as his thumb circled your clit. You felt overwhelmed, you could hear your heart racing in your chest, your head fell between his shoulder and neck. You kissed and sucked at whatever skin you could reach. His hand trailed up your lower back and Javier pushed you against his chest, your breast against his bare flesh. “Come for me, princesa, cry out my name, I want to hear you,” he growls out pressing against your clit, the last roll of your hip bringing you over the edge.

“Javier! Fuck!” you cried out into his neck as your orgasm washed over you. Soft whimpers left your mouth as the pleasure filled you, still lazily rocking against his leg as you rode it out.

Your body fell limply against Javier and he couldn’t wait to have you doing just that against his cock. He was straining painfully against his pants and he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside the wetness that had his pants and thigh completely soaked. He rubs your back pressing a kiss to your head, “Such a good girl. You came so good on me, princesa,” he praises.

You look up at him catching your breath, trying to ground yourself again to the world, after your orgasm, his lips are immediately on yours, his hands grab your leg and move you to straddle him completely, letting you feel just how hard he is. You gasp into his mouth at the feeling of him against your still sensitive core. You press your forehead against his, your hands flat on his chest as you try to catch your breath. You look at him under your lashes and he feels himself twitch at the sight.

“Is this because of me?” you tease breathlessly, rocking against him. Javier lets out a low hiss, grasping both of your hips to still you.

“Such a little tease now aren’t you? As if you didn’t just drench my thigh princesa. You look so properly fucked and I’ve barely even touched you. You’ve been a tease all day, don’t think I didn’t notice you purposely brushing your ass against me in the filing room today,” he growls out as his hand pulls on your hair exposing your neck for him. He starts kissing down it, sucking a mark on it. He was going to make sure he left you claimed, because there was no way he was going to let any other agent try and touch you now.

You let out a groan at his attack on your neck, “As if you weren’t eye fucking me all day, Peña. Almost thought I was going to have to pick your tongue up off the floor like all the other men in the office trying to get in my pants.” You can’t help the smirk that comes across your face, as he pulls on your hair, moving from your neck to glower down at you.

“Unlike them, I’ve actually gotten in your pants hermosa, just look at my pants to see just what your reaction to me is,” he growls out, his free hands kneading your ass. His mouth is on yours before you can say anything, his lips were hot and bruising, pulling you closer to him with his hand in your hair. His hand came down on your ass and a yelp came out of your lips. His lips went back down to your neck, sucking and biting his way down. Your hands grasped his hair as you whimpered grinding against his erection as his hand came down on your ass again, the sting felt so good and your clit was already begging for more attention. “Stop grinding, you’re going to have to beg for my cock now.”

His hand comes down again and you gasp at the sting. The mixture of pain and pleasure making it harder to obey him when all you wanted was friction to soothe the ache. His hand rubs the area, “Such a pretty ass, I can’t wait until I claim it too.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, something flipping in you that further became excited at the thought of him taking your ass. You’d never tried it before but you found yourself trusting him, knowing he’d take good care of you if he did. Just like he did yesterday, just as he was today. “Javi, please,” you whine, unable to keep from squirming against him, you wanted nothing more than to grind against him.

You needed friction, but not just against your clit, no you need him inside you. “You can do better than that princesa, don’t you remember just how much you begged yesterday?” he teases, his mouth moves down your chest, running his tongue over one of your peaked nipples. Your grip in his hair tightens as he swirls his tongue around it.

“Javier...please fuck me,” you whimper out, pleading as he moves his mouth onto your other breast. His hand travels down your ass to your heat, parting your lips. He says nothing as he runs a finger through your wetness.

“Fuck, please Javi, fuck me… I need you,” you beg, your eyes closing in pleasure as his dips a finger inside your core.

“I know you can do so much better princesa, beg,” he cooed as he slides a thick finger in and out at a slow tortuous pace.

You grit your teeth, rutting your hips against him, you needed him more, tears of frustration pricked at your eyes at how much you wanted him. “Javier, please I’m so needy for you,” you looked at him and frowned at his smug look letting you know he still was expecting more.

Javier sees the glint in your eyes and before he can wonder what you were up to, you’re moving off of his lap and onto your knees on the floor. He sees the smug smile that comes across your face at his shock. Seeing you lick your lips as your hands move to completely unzip his pants the rest of the way, lets him know that you are definitely more than planning to show him just how much you want him.

His hand comes weaves through your hair, stopping you as your hands make move to pull his pants down. You look at him with a pout. “Is this how you’re begging?” he asks raising an eyebrow at you, “I don’t think sucking my cock, was part of it.”

You look at him innocently, running your hand over him, before giving his erection a light squeeze, seeing the way his jaw clicks, trying to show no reaction. “But wouldn’t you rather me show you how much I want your cock? I’ve been thinking about it all day,” you answer him softly, running your tongue over your bottom lip. “Please, can I beg with my mouth properly?”

Your fingers trail over his exposed skin and his breath hitches at your confession. He tightens his hold on your hair, leaning over you as he tilts your head back, “Open your mouth.”

You do as he says, tongue out, grinding against the ground as he spits in your mouth, spreading whatever didn’t make it in your mouth around your lips. You’re look at him desperately, ready to take him in your mouth. “Look at you, so desperate for my cock, suck princesa, beg me with that pretty mouth, and I’ll fuck you,” he murmurs, as he pulls you toward his cock.

You get back to where you had left off quickly, pulling down his jeans and watching as his hard length sprang free. Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of the precum dripping from the head. You tossed his jeans to the side before biting your lip, trying to fight back a smile, at just how hard this man was for you. You took him in your hand, meeting his eyes as you press a kiss to the head before flicking your tongue over the tip, loving the hiss that escaped his lips as you did.

You kiss your way down his length, smirking when you feel his hand in your hair tighten. “Don’t be a tease,” he growls out and you love it, love the way he’s like putty in your hands as he had you.

“Me? I would never,” you tease back as you press one last kiss to the base, before flattening your tongue and making your way back up his length, swirling your tongue around his tip before taking him in your mouth.

Javier closes his eyes, the feeling of your warm mouth around his length, making him want to do nothing but fuck your mouth until he’s spilling down your throat. He refrains from doing it, watching as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him as you go. You were showing him just how much you wanted him and he was not going to interfere, not when you were moaning around his cock, looking at him like there is nothing you’d rather be doing than this.

“Fuck..princesa, just like that, you’re so close to taking me all in,” he praises, watching as you take him further down, he sees your eyes watering as you gag before moving back up, “Such a good girl, you’ll get there soon, don’t push yourself too hard. You’re doing so good.”

You only find yourself becoming more needy at his words, you could feel the dampness between your thighs and you wanted more, needed more. You loved having him in your mouth, watching him react, Javier Peña was always so guarded but he definitely didn’t hold back from showing his pleasure at being sucked off and you were living for it. The moans he’d let escape, how black as night his brown eyes looked, the way he’d close his eyes when you swirled your tongue just right, the curses in Spanish that were slipping out. It was addictive and erotic and your body was begging for more. You pulled away from his cock with a pop, your hand moving up and down his length.

You looked at him, mouth wet, chest heaving, eyes pleading him, “Please Javier. I’m so wet, please let me have your cock.”

Javier couldn’t resist, not after those words, not with how you were looking at him. He was practically ready to blow just from that. He put his hand over yours to stop you, “On your hands and knees princesa, if I’m going to cum it’s going to be in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before moving to let you get on his bed. You position yourself on the bed, back to him, holding yourself up by your elbows, your heart is racing in anticipation as you feel the bed dip behind you.

Javier takes a second to admire you, how easily you listened to him, the way he could see your chest moving up and down, he saw the goosebumps form across your skin as he ran a hand over the curve of your ass, kneading it where he still saw it a little red from his hand coming down on it. He moved your hair out of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips when you tilted your head to look at him. You let out a breathy sigh when he ran his fingers over your wet sex, you were soaking wet. “Fuck,” he breathed out as he brought two fingers into your warmness, you let out as gasp as he curled his fingers in and out.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth, letting out a groan, “Just a sweet as I remembered.”

“Please,” you choke out as he takes his cock in his hand and runs it over your core, letting you cover the head of his cock with your juices.

“You’ve been so good, let me show you how much,” Javier cooes, placing his hand on your hip as he eases his cock into you. You cry out as his length sinks into you, your hand coming up to bite your thumb as you adjust to him.

“Mierda, you’re so tight and wet princesa, so desperate for my cock aren’t you?” Javier hisses out, his hand tightening on your hip, trying to refrain from just pounding into you, he wanted to let you adjust.

You feel your body light up, the relief coursing through it at finally having him inside. You let out a moan as you push back against him, you needed him to move, “Yes Javi, please, fuck me. I need your cock, I need you.”

“As you wish,” he growls out as he pulls out before slamming back into you, he has one hand on each hips, as he starts a steady pace. Your grip tightens on the sheets of his bed, whimpers and moans escaping your lips as he gets deeper inside you, each sound going straight to his cock and making him lose control. You were so tight, so wet, he could feel the way you were clenching around him.

He moves one hand to your shoulder, his pace becoming more desperate, you felt too good around him and he needed more, wanted to feel every bit of you come undone around him. “Javi..fuck…harder,” you moan out feeling your head becoming lost in the feeling of him completely railing you. Word become harder to form even in your mind, all you can do is feel and it was so much.

“None of the boys in the office could do this to you huh? Look at you, soaking me and yourself, you’re so fucking wet princesa, only I can get this out of you can’t I?” he taunts, your screams were becoming more frequent, cursing the only thing you could garble out, he knew you were close and he wanted to see you fall apart.

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t, you were fighting just to be able to hold yourself up, your hair covering your face. “Gonna ruin you for all those silly boys in the office that think they can have you. Gonna ruin you for anyone but me, princesa,” he grits out and his words drove you over the edge. You clenched around him, a loud moan escaping as your eyes squeezed shut. That didn’t stop Javier though, it only seemed to fuel him on. “That’s right princesa, come around me, take it baby, only I can make you cum like this.”

Your felt your eyes roll back as wave after wave hit you, you felt one of you hands come down, barely holding yourself up. Javier’s thrust never stopped and it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. You could already feel the that sweet knot in your stomach forming again, no one had ever been able to make you orgasm more than once, and here was Javier already pulling another one and you knew then he was right, he was going to ruin you and you definitely could not get enough of him.

His hand comes down on your ass and you moan, unable to stop yourself from pushing back against him, your mind couldn’t form thoughts but your body didn’t need it to react to him at all. “Look at you taking my cock so good princesa even after just coming, such a good little cockslut,” he taunts.

You wanted to kiss him, to be able show him in everyway just how good this was feeling. You reached out behind you, grabbing his hand on your hip, you could hear his head board hitting the wall behind you, and you knew this man was definitely using force and god, if it was just turning you on more. “Fuck Javi, I’m yours, all yours,” you cry out.

Javier can’t help how smug he feels hearing you say it. He grits his teeth as pounds into you something about hearing you call yourself his making him lose control, “That’s right baby, you’re mine. This pussy is mine,” his hand comes back down on your ass, “this ass is mine, And that pretty little mouth of yours in mine too.”

He growls out as he wraps his arm around your abdomen pulling you flat against him as he slams into you. “Javi!” you cry out as his hand comes around to your breast squeezing it.

The hand that was on your shoulder is now in your hair pulling it and tilting your head to the side. You head falls back leaning against him, you can barely keep your eyes open as the pleasure builds up, ready to burst out, and claim you again, “Can I get another one? I bet I can, come on princesa, let me feel that tight cunt around my cock again. I’m so close baby, let me feel you again.”

His hand moves from your breast to your clit, rubbing circles around it, you could see stores forming in your vision, the sensitivity feeling like too much. You’d never felt anything like this, his mouth was hot on your neck, nipping and sucking on it, you could hear his breath picking up, feel how desperate each thrust was becoming and you knew he was close, barely holding on .

“Javi…please… it’s….” you tried to form out but your body was so aroused, you were so close, you could feel the climax and it was even more intense than you had ever felt before.

“Come on princesa, let everyone know in this building hear who owns you,” Javier moans out in your ear, he was so close, it was taking everything in him not to blow, but he wanted you to cum again. Needed to hear you cry out his name. He angled his hips just right, his fingers pressing just right on your clit and he felt you completely fall apart.

His name came out of your lips, your eyes squeezing shut, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest, how you were crying out, you didn’t know when it felt like all the air had left your lungs as the orgasm tore through you completely. Your juices, drenched Javier’s cock and his fingers, and hell if seeing you squirt didn’t pull Javier over the edge himself. “Fuck,” he groaned into your neck, as you tightened around him, sending ribbon after ribbon of cum into your sweet warmth.

You were panting barely able to keep your eyes open as Javi rode his orgasm out. He stilled behind you and you could hear his heavy breathing behind you. You felt better knowing you weren’t the only one recovering.

Javier pressed a kiss to your shoulder, letting you fall limply into his arms, he looked down at his sheets unable to feel the smug pride that hit him at seeing the proof at what he had caused. “Just dropping off food huh, princesa,” he teases you.

You look over at him still trying to catch your breath, wishing you could give him some smart remark back but you were still trying to process everything that happened, the pleasure he had just gotten out of you. “Did…did..I ..did I squirt,” you mumbled out closing your eyes.

“Yes, yes you did,” Javier chuckles as he wraps both arms around you and presses a kiss to your cheek.

You groan as you find yourself becoming centered again, of course this frustrating yet stunning man would be able to get you to do something no one has ever been able to before, “You’re..going..to be so..smug.”

“Maybe but from what you just did, you seem to like it,” he smirks and winks at you as he helps you lay down. You open to roll your eyes at him and you see him laugh and you can’t help the silly smile that comes across your face seeing it. He seemed so relaxed in this moment and you couldn’t deny it was nice. He caresses your cheek as he sees you close your eyes again, “Are you okay princesa, can I get you anything?”

You shake your head looking up at him where he was leaning over you, “Just give me a moment…brain still flustered,” you close your eyes again trying to steady your still racing heart. Javier nods, he really shouldn’t feel so smug but there was something about how debauched you looked that made his pride only grow. You definitely looked even more thoroughly fucked now that he touched you than you had earlier and he loved seeing it. Loved knowing he had gotten this reaction out of you.

He grabs a cigarette from his nightstand and lights it. He takes a drag as he watches your breathing start to even out, his free hand running through your hair. He lays next to you, pulling you into him and you sigh contently, wrapping your arms around him as you lay your head on his chest. “God, I want to hate you,” you mumble.

Javier rubs circles on your back as he holds you close, chuckling as he offers you his cigarette. “Back at you princesa, guess we’ve both failed,” he says watching as you take a drag and closing your eyes. You hum before handing it back to him.

“If this is what failure is, I never want succeed,” you say, eyes becoming heavy. You could feel the exhaustion starting to get to you. “Can we do this more? I think I might actually like you,” you tease even though there was truth in your words.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs, he tilts your head up to look at him, a soft smile on his face. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before pressing one to your forehead, “I think I might like you too, now get some rest princesa, I’ve got you.”

permanent tags: @sleepylunarwolf @greeneyedblondie44 @a-skov

those who were interested/might be interested: @mothandpidgeon @purplepascal042 @221bshrlocked @yespolkadotkitty @starlightmornings @sleep-tight1 @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @wyn-dixie @waywardimpalawriter

#javier peña #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #Javier Peña fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fan fiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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joontopia · 3 years

Text

Oncoming Storm | KSJ

pairing: Human!Seokjin x Mermaid!reader

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: fantasy au, strangers to lovers

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 5.6k (WILDLY UNEDITED)

warnings: slight angst, some pining, some mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, sharks, unprotected sex, biting, breast play, fingering, oral (f. recieving), multiple orgasms, cream pie, subtle mentions of religion

a/n: so here it is! and im so mad at myself because i’m posting it so late. i accidentally took a nap that turned into actual sleep. I changed the plot to this fic so many times, i was happy when i landed on a plot that i liked. please keep in mind that this fic is currently un-beta’d and un-edited. I’m still in the process of moving homes. so once I am done, I will go back and edit this fic. I really hope you enjoy this fic!

part of The Last Splash Collab hosted by @kimtaehyunq Maggie thank you so much for letting me join and putting up my shenanigans in our DMs. I love you!

The storm is close. You can feel it in the air. Sense it in the restless calm that has overtaken the ocean water around you. You know what this means, the whispers in the sea breeze only confirming your suspicions with each passing wind as you swim up to your lover’s boat. It’s time to migrate.

You had a feeling this time was coming soon. The last time a migration happened was two years ago. You remember it quite vividly. It was the very day you met the first friendly human you’ve ever come into contact with. The very handsome Kim Seokjin.

It was at the beginning of the last migration. Your tribe of merpeople had just entered into your new territory, having followed the strong storm current until the flow started to calm. The usual indication that your tribe has reached whatever new home the God of the Sea has called you to. Everything was going fine, the heavy storms had kept the waters clear of any boats to help prevent any humans from witnessing pods of merpeople in the water. It wasn’t until your pod had reached the end of the current tunnel when trouble had struck.

A group of rogue sharks were there to greet your people. Circling and dividing your clan, trying to weed out the weak swimmers from the strong. Many of your people were able to swim away, the warriors of the group fought off the sharks with no major injuries or casualties, managing to make the attackers flee the area. All but one. In the midst of all the chaos, one of the sharks had successfully rounded up two young mermaids who had gotten separated from the pack, circling them as if playing with them. Feeding off the sense of their fear before striking to kill. It wasn’t until you noticed the dark, hungry eyes of the deadly hunter focused on you that you realized what you had done. The blood from the cut on your arm won it’s attention, allowing the two younglings to scurry away to safety.

You hadn’t even noticed you had done it. Instincts kicking in, causing you to grab one of the sharp shells on your necklace. Your body moving quickly on its own to create the mark, knowing the blood hungry beast wouldn’t be able to help itself. You turned the opposite way from where the younglings escaped and swam away as fast as you could, the shark following closely behind you. You looked around you, hoping to find a cave or possibly one of your fellow mer-warriors to help you with your escape. You don’t know how far or how long you swam, dodging each attack the shark attempted on you. You could feel your body growing tired, your tail not able to keep you at the same speed as before. You sense the shift in the water, your attacker positioning himself for another strike. You use the last of your strength to dodge once again, barely evading the shark’s bite as a few of his teeth clip your side. Traces of your blood dissipate into the water as you once again start to swim away, the pain of your new injury destroying the rest of your energy. You start to think you’re finally done for until you’re suddenly dragged up and out of the water. The sudden rush of fresh air invading your lungs as you look around you in a panic, gripping at the netted rope that you found yourself ensnared in.

With night time in its full glory in the sky, you try to use the light of the moon to check your surroundings. It’s not until you feel yourself moving around in the air that your eyes finally see the fishing boat your entrapment is attached to. Panic takes over as the predicament of your situation starts to settle in. In the midst of escaping one of your kinds’ greatest threats, you managed to get yourself caught by the next worst thing. Humans.

You reach for one of the shells on your necklace, yanking it free and trying to make quick work on the ropes holding you captive. You nearly make a hole big enough for you to slip out and back into the water when you feel the net dropping, your body slamming hard on the deck of the boat. You scramble to get yourself free of the net before your captor has a chance to make an appearance. Your tail thrashes around wildly, making you feel like the quite literal fish out of water that you are. You silently pray the thrashing and the sea breeze is enough to quickly dry your scales, allowing your lower body to take on a human form. Your wish goes unanswered, replaced by the grace of the net being freed from around you. You flip to your stomach, adrenaline coursing through you as you try to scoot yourself to the edge of the boat. Your blood pumps so loudly in your ears, deafening you to the heavy footsteps coming up from behind. You’re nearly to the back of the boat when you feel hands clasp your arm, your fight or flight reflex causing you to flip back over, slapping your newest attacker across the face with your tail. Successful knocking them away and on their ass. You go to turn back to make your escape when you hear the voice of your attacker. His choice of words halts you from jumping back into your home.

“Wait! The shark is still there!” He exclaims, pure panic and genuine concern laced in his vocals. You keep your eyes on the water, breathing heavily as you peer into the dark abyss in front of you, trying to see if the shark was still indeed awaiting for your return into it’s hunting ground. Thinking your fate is sealed either way, you consider risking it before once again being interrupted by his voice.

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I was trying to help-- Holy hell…” The stranger's words die out as you turn to look at him, his eyes on your body as you follow his gaze down to your dissipating tail. The usual bluish purple of your scales slowly shed from you. The now smooth appendage slowly forms into the shape of human legs, having dried enough to allow the transformation. The remaining scales of your tail cling to your flesh in patches, glinting in the moonlight as you move to curl into yourself and put distance in between you and the strange man before you.

“You’re actually real. Mermaids are actually real,” the man speaks softly, as if to himself. His eyes locked on the fallen scales scattered across the floor. You take in a few deep breaths, watching him carefully as you build up the courage to speak.

“Please…” you gasp. The man’s eyes flicking up to yours, his features softening as he notices the fear in your eyes. “Please just let me go.”

The man scans your body quickly one last time, shock taking over his gaze as he scrambles to his feet, removing the weather jacket from around his shoulders and approaches you slowly. You flinch in fear, the man halting and holding his hands up as he takes a small step back.

“No, no. It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. Please, just take this. I don’t want you to get cold.” He slowly hands the jacket in your direction. You eye it carefully before looking back up at his face, trying to find any trace of deceit in his demeanor. You find nothing but softness, allowing yourself to accept his offer, taking the jacket from his hands and wrapping it around you.

“Thank you,” you mutter, clutching the jacket closer to you as you continue to watch your unexpected savior.

“Here, let me help. We should get your wounds patched up,” He says to you as he slowly approaches you again, his hand still held out towards you. This time looking to help you to your feet. You cautiously take his hand, allowing him to pull you upright. You let go of him prematurely, not anticipating how shaky your lower body would be. You try to take a step forward, following him to a nearby bench only for your newly formed legs to give way causing you to start to fall forward and straight into the man’s arms. “Woah, easy there. Hold on tight, okay?”

You nod your head meekly, blushing as you hold on to his arm as he walks you to the bench and sits you down. Your hand slides down his arm as you let him go, allowing you to feel the firmness of his muscles as he pulls away. He kneels down beside you, opening a small door under the bench and pulls out a small red case. You watch him as he moves, eyes falling on to the wide expanse of his shoulders as he opens up the case, pulling out various bandages and ointments. He looks back up at you and you quickly look away. Your blush deepening from being caught staring at him. You notice his smirk out of the corner of your eye as he holds out his hand, gesturing towards the injuries on your side. “May I?” he asks you, the gentleness in his tone chipping away at your resolve. You nod once again, moving the jacket just enough to expose your injuries to the man.

He quickly goes to work, silence falling between the two of you as he starts cleaning your wounds. You watch him as he works, admiring the determination in his eyes. You observe his face, tracing the slight dip of his nose and observing the pink plushness of his lips. Finding it cute how he has them slightly parted as he focuses on your scratches. As if he feels you watching him, his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze for only a second before looking back down at his current task and clearing his throat.

“So what's your uh… Or do you have a name? What can I call you?” He asks you, a blush creeping up on his face as he starts to feel self conscious over his question.

You giggle at the cuteness, knowing this has to be a new social experience for the two of you. This being the first time you’ve ever interacted so closely with a human and, considering his reaction earlier, this would be his first interaction with someone of your kind as well. You clear your throat as well, hoping your shyness has subsided enough for you to be able to speak clearly.

“I do. It’s Y/N. Thank you for saving me. I would have never expected this type of kindness from a human.” You smile down at him as he chuckles at your words. He places the last of the bandages on your wounds, packing up the small case and placing it back in its spot beneath the bench.

He looks up at you, blessing you with a breathtaking smile that knocks the air from your lungs. The sight of the simple gesture melting away the rest of the protective guard you held up and seeping straight into your heart, wanting nothing more than to stay this close to him. You feel the warmth radiating from his hand that’s resting on your exposed knee, finding comfort in the closeness from this complete stranger. You don’t notice how out of tune with reality you become until you see his lips start to move, the honey sweet baritone of his voice bringing you back to the moment. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Seokjin.”

He let you stay on the boat that night, allowing you to take the bed as he slept up on the couch in the cabin. Giving you somewhere safe to stay as you waited for morning, in hopes that it will allow you a safe return into the ocean to reunite with your tribe. You had thought you would never see him again, but fate had a different plan. It was only two short weeks later that you found yourself venturing upon his boat. You had stayed a safe distance away, wondering just how many boats with purple stripes down the side existed on this side of the water. It wasn’t until you saw the enscripted boat name “Epiphany” on the side shortly before the handsome, wide shouldered captain made his appearance. The moment he noticed you approach his vessel, he gave you the warmest smile, helping you onboard and offering you a blanket to cover your transforming body.

Since that day, the both of you made these little visits a weekly tradition. Spending the whole day learning about each other, swapping stories about each other's worlds. Growing closer and more intimate in your interactions the more time you spend with each other. The hellos and goodbyes were combined with hugs. Casual conversations were enhanced by subtle touches and soft grazes of each other's skin. Then one night during a full moon, the first of which you two were able to enjoy together, Seokjin found the courage to pull you close, asking you if it was okay to give you a kiss.

You remember being taken back by the softness of his plush lips, how your body melted into his from the tenderness of his touch. It wasn’t long before you began staying the night with Seokjin, sharing his bed while exploring each other’s bodies. You had never been touched by a man before. Had expressed that concern with him only to be comforted with the knowledge that he wouldn’t pressure you to do anything you didn’t want.

You smile at the memory of your shared nights together, not realizing you had made it to the Epiphany until you hear Seokjin’s voice cutting into your thoughts.

“Arms too tired to pull yourself up?” He teases you as he looks over the side of the boat, smiling as he watches you wading in the water.

You stick your tongue out, mocking his laughter as he reaches for you, helping you onto the deck. “ Ha ha. You’re quite the comedian, Jinnie,” you tease back, savoring each sound of his addictive laugh as it rings through your ears. Oh, how you’re going to miss that laugh.

The reminder of the oncoming storm brings your mood back down. The sudden shift in your demeanor doesn’t slip past Seokjin. His brows furrow in concern as he watches you, handing you the towel and one of his t-shirts he had waiting for you. You start to pat your scales dry, refusing to look at him as you’re not quite ready to break the news. Much to your dismay, Seokjin was not on the same page as you.

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice addresses you softly. His genuine concern for you wraps you in a warm embrace, causing unwanted tears to begin to pool at your waterline. You still don’t look up at him. Your gaze trained on your shedding scales as you dry off your upper body before pulling his t-shirt over you. As the fabric passes your nostrils, you breathe in deeply, taking in every note of his scent and committing it to your memory. Your heart begins to ache with every breath you take. You finally look up at him once your legs finish transitioning, standing from your spot on the deck. He reaches out to help steady you, a reaction you know he did without even thinking. The ache in your heart deepens as you grab onto his forearms to balance.

You take a deep breath as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I have to leave, Jin.”

His features contort in confusion, his hands still on your waist as he questions your words. “So soon? But you just got here,” he responds, the gravity of your statement completely lost on him.

“No,” you say as you shake your head. Tears threaten to spill over as your voice begins to shake. “I have to leave. The storm, Jin. It’s coming.”

Jin continues to look at you in confusion. It takes a full minute before he realizes what you mean, his eyes growing wide with panic indicating to you that he’s caught on.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “It could be just a terrible storm. Just like before.”

The hopefulness in his voice nearly breaks you. You wished he was right. Wished this was just a false alarm. It was almost a year ago from this day when you thought the storm for the migration was starting. There were only small indicators that the brewing weather was going to be it, but enough indicators that had you convinced it was going to happen. It was also the first night you gave yourself completely to Seokjin, wanting your last night with him to be a memorable one. When you had learned in the following days that the threatening storm had passed, you were ecstatic, wasting no time to race back to Seokjin and into your rightful place beside him. You spent every night with him in his arms ever since. But now the omens of what's to come are back again. And this time they are very much real.

You shake your head at him once again, stepping into him and leaning your head onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Holding you tightly as if you were going to disappear right there. “I’m sure of it, Jinnie. The tribe’s elders confirmed it this morning. The storm will be here in three days.”

Silence grows between you two as you stand there holding each other. You have no idea what to say at this moment. No idea what either of you could say, but you just want to hear his voice. Just want to hear it as much as possible before your inevitable departure. As you fail to search for something to say, you feel the vibrations in his chest from him starting to talk and you're grateful that it’s only one of you that's at a loss of words. It’s not until you hear what he asks that you wish the two of you sat in silence just a little longer.

“What if you don’t leave? You can stay with me. Live by the shore, somewhere remote where you’ll be safe.”

Your tears begin to fall freely as you pull away from him. His arms only loosen around you slightly, giving you just enough space to lean back and look up at him. “Bad things happen to mermaids who get separated from their pack. The loneliness will eat away my soul, changing me into something dangerous. I would no longer be myself.”

“Then I’ll come with you,” Jin states confidently, looking down at you with determination in his eyes. Your tears fall faster as you shake your head again.

“It’s too dangerous, Jin. The storm will kill you. The Gods created this specifically to keep us safe as we travel in masses.”

Jin closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he leans his forehead against yours. His breathing becomes ragged as he continues to hold you closely. “Then stay with me until you need to leave. Only if you can,” he whispers to you, the slight tremble in his tone crushing your heart.

“I can do that,” you respond, leaning up on tiptoes as you place a soft kiss on his plush lips.

The two of you spend the rest of your day talking, Jin asking every possible question he can think of, trying to find a way to decipher where this storm may take you. You answer him the best you can with the limited information that you have. Tribal Elders have tried their best to determine a pattern in the way your new homes were chosen, but never find anything concrete. It is a decision truly left up to the Gods.

As night falls upon you, you feel the exhaustion come over you. Slowly leading Seokjin to the bed, you curl up into him the moment you both settle onto the mattress, clinging on to him with all your might. Not wanting to part from him until you absolutely have to. He places soft kisses on your head as he holds you just as close, humming to you in his sweet voice as he starts to rock the two of you to sleep.

Not wanting to sleep just yet, you readjust yourself slightly, allowing yourself enough space to move closer to Jin’s lips, kissing them as soon as you reach them. He kisses you back and you waste no time to deepen the connection, licking his bottom lip with your tongue as a wordless request to enter. He reciprocates, the both of you parting your lips, your appendages dancing around each other in a fiery passion.

You run your hand down his bare body, slowly making your way to the hem of his pants. Seokjin stops you, grabbing your hand into his own.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jin whispers to you, trailing kisses along your face. “Being here with you is enough.”

“I want to, Jin. Please, make love to me.” Your voice shakes in your response, your lips trembling from the sob building in your chest. Jin stops it with his own lips, capturing yours into another deep kiss.

Releasing your hand, Jin helps you undress himself before pulling your lone shirt from over your body. He lays you back against the bed, placing more soft kisses across your face before trailing his lips down your body. He stops at your breast, taking a moment to circle your pert nipples with his tongue. He gives each a small suck, the sensation causing you to arch your back, shoving your breast further into his face. Before releasing the last bud, Jin gives it a soft nibble, chuckling at the light gasp that escapes from you before continuing to lower himself down your body.

As he makes it to your core, he places your legs on his shoulders, rubbing your thighs as he looks up at you. “I’ll take care of you, my love. I’ll make sure you never forget tonight,” he coos at you as he places two fingers on your lips, forming a V with them to spread you apart. You feel him lick a strip right up your center. A delicious shiver crawls up your spine at the satisfying feeling. He gives you another lick, making a point to flick his tongue against your clit once he reaches the top. You feel your arousal leaking from your heat as Jin repeats his movements. You let out a groan with each stroke, your legs beginning to shake on top of his shoulders from the subtle teasing.

You feel him gather your wetness on two fingers, slowly slipping both inside of you at once. You arch your back again at the pressure, trying your best not to squirm with each pump of his hands. Jin holds you down by the waist with his other hand to keep you in place as he picks up his speed, scissoring his fingers every few pumps to spread you apart. The moment you feel your walls begin to quiver, the pressure against them growing from the third finger Seokjin adds into your hole. He begins to move even faster, adding a curl to his fingers with each passing stroke. It’s not long before you feel a knot form inside of you, your toes curling at pleasure coursing through your body. You quickly feel yourself approaching the edge of your orgasm, the growing volume of your moans giving Jin a good indication of how close you really are. You think you hit a stall in your pleasure when Jin surprises you, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. It’s not until he gives your swollen nub a quick flick with his tongue that the knot releases, your body shaking as you cum around his fingers.

Jin continues to finger you through your orgasm, slowing his speed as he helps ease you down. The euphoric feeling takes over your body, too busy riding the high to notice Jin removing himself from your core. You’re barely down from your high when you feel Seokjin hover above you, slowly lining himself up to your pulsing entrance. He rubs the head of his cock around your slick hole, gathering us as much of your juices as he watches you, waiting to see if you’re okay with what’s to come next.

“Do you want to keep going, my love?” he asks you so sweetly. The tenderness in his tone sings to your heart, the need for him growing with each passing moment.

“Yes, Jinnie. Please. Need you,” You whimper as you slowly push down onto him, your body begging to feel him where you want him the most.

“I’m all yours, darling,” he assures you, pushing into you at the same time.

You both groan in unison at the sensation. Jin slowly pumps in and out of you, sinking into you deeper with each motion as he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to him. As he buries himself inside of you, he watches your face for any signs of pain only to be met with your features contorting in pleasure. He pauses his movements, waiting for you to give him a sign that you're ready to continue. You try to answer him by grinding down your hips, only resorting to a verbal response once you notice he didn’t pick up on the action.

“Move, Jinnie. Please,” you whine as you wrap your hands around his shoulders, bringing him into you for a kiss. Jin starts his pace off slow, matching it with the speed of your shared kiss. Your walls continue to pulse around him with each slow drag, the tip of his length hitting that small bundle of nerves deep inside of you every time he buries himself to the hilt. You shamelessly whine for more, Jin wasting no time to answer the call. He speeds up his pace, pumping inside of you relentlessly. The familiar knot grows inside you quickly once again as each thrust pushes you closer to another release. You can sense Jin’s release coming closer as well by the way his thrusts become shorter and sloppier. He breaks your lips apart, leaning his forehead against yours as you both pant in pleasure.

“Cum with me, darling,” he groans as he moves one of his hands in between your bodies, placing his thumb on your swollen clit and rubbing it in circles. The added sensation is enough to send you back over the edge, your walls clamping down on Jin’s shaft with each pulse of your release as you call out his name. His own release overcomes him as he slams inside of you, filling you with his warm seed as he joins you, groaning out your name. He braces his arms beside your head, trying his best to keep himself from crushing you under his body weight, leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss.

The next two days were spent exactly like this. The two of you never leaving the safety of the cabin, pretending like the outside world no longer existed. It was just the two of you in this bed, sharing the love you have for each other in every way possible.

By the dawn of the third day, the slight rocking of the boat from the restless waves wakes you, warning you that the migrating storm has begun. Jin stirs beside you, feeling your movements as you start to climb out of the bed. He sits up next to you, grabbing your arm before you are able to fully climb off the mattress and pulls you into him, hugging you to his body as he whispers into your ear, “Please, not yet. Just give me a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue or try to move. Knowing good and well you’d regret not taking these last few minutes when you have the chance. You hold each other in silence for just a few more minutes before Jin cups your chin gently, angling your face to kiss you deeply. You return it, the two of you pouring every once of love you have for each other into the kiss. After another moment, you force yourself to pull away, standing from the bed as you face the man before you. The boat now rocking more heavily as the winds begin to pick up.

“You have to leave now, Jin. You’re running out of time before it becomes unsafe.”

He slowly nods his head as he begins to move, quickly dressing himself as soon as he gets up from the bed. You reach out your hand, watching as he takes it willingly, interlocking your fingers together as he starts to pull you towards the stairs leading to the deck. You walk in silence to the back of the boat, not finding the courage to release his hand, silently wishing to the Gods that you didn't have to leave.

You turn to him, looking up at him as he smiles sadly down at you. “Please don’t forget me,” you whisper softly, tears once again falling down your cheeks.

Jin reaches up with his free hand, wiping away the droplets as his own tears begin to streak his face. “I’ll never forget you. We’ll see each other again. This is not how we end.”

The confidence in his tone stabs at your heart. Filling you with a hopefulness that you know will only crush you in the end. “How are you so sure?” you croak as your tears fall harder. “The world is big, and I have no idea where I’ll go and when.”

“The sea brought us together before, it will help us find each other again.” Jin leans down to kiss you one last time, as if to seal his uncertain promise. After a moment, he backs away, releasing your held hands at the same time. “Now go, before it's too late. I will find you. I promise. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Seokjin.”

You give each other one last look before you turn around. You take a deep breath before diving into the water, the scales of your tail forming quickly from the moisture. You swim yourself a ways towards the direction of your tribe, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the man you love before resurfacing. Fearing that your resolve would not be strong enough to keep you from returning back to him. Once you feel like you made it far enough, you swim towards the surface, turning around immediately as you break out of the water. Your heart rips into tiny pieces as you watch the image of the Epiphany disappearing into the distance.

It’s been five months now in your new home. The beauty of the ocean and surrounding islands are just as captivating as all your previous homes, but something is keeping you from being able to enjoy your new slice of paradise. Something that you miss dearly every single day since you migrated. You feel the need to clear your mind, no longer wanting to dwell in your own sadness. You venture out into your new territory, swimming out further than you have before. You’re not sure why you do it, wandering this far out from the safety of your tribe being a completely reckless choice to make. Your only reasoning being that you’re just allowing the sea to take you wear you need to go, trusting in the Water Gods to keep you safe as you free float along the surface of the water. You happen upon a small island cove, hiding behind the tall rocks protruding from the water to provide you shelter from the heat of the sun. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the ambience of the ocean as the subtle song of waves breaking starts to lull you into a dream.

Your mind wanders to your lost love, your heart aching for him as you imagine what he could be doing at this very moment. You picture him on his boat, leaning over the edge with a fishing pole in hand. The image in your mind being drawn from pieces of your memories. The vision feels so real, so detailed in your mind, you feel like you can practically hear the soft rumble of his boat engines.

Suddenly, you feel a displaced vibration in the water, the very rumbles you were just imagining now sounding a lot louder and much closer than your distant memory. You lean up from your free float, looking around you for whatever may be causing the disruption to your day dreaming. Peering out into the horizon, you faintly see a small vessel approach you. You quickly duck behind the nearest rock, hoping whoever is approaching hasn’t noticed you. You start to slowly sink under the surface, preparing yourself to make your escape when a sudden pull in your heart begs you to stop.

You peer out from your cover, watching the small boat carefully as it moves closer. The boat turns ever so slightly, allowing the purple stripes along the side to become visible. Your eyes grow large, a wide smile spreading across your face as you jump from around the secrecy of the rock and swim closer to the approaching vessel, the silhouette of it’s wide shouldered captain becoming more visible with each passing stroke.

#bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #seokjin smut #bts fanfic

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 2

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I should really post my other Kryptonian reader story. Enjoy the angst! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She jerked backwards, eyes widening at the sight of the thick, crimson liquid running down her arm. A shudder ran through her, throat seizing up as she tried to suck in air, her other hand coming up to rub at her arm. Suddenly it was on both hands and she stared at them in horror.

A voice called from below her, pained, but firm. “Superwoman…it’s okay. Don’t—ugh—don’t panic. It’s alright.” The voice was soothing at first, but when she looked down to find its owner, the body next to him took up all she saw, a vicious, gaping hole where his heart used to be.

She peddled backwards, stumbling to the floor, apologies falling from her lips. “I’m sor—I’m so sorry. It was just—he was hurting you and I—I didn’t mean to do this, I swear—”

The boy reached out to her but grunted in pain, hand dropping to hold his side. “(Y/N)—”

Her eyes met his once more, and he could see the tears swimming in her gaze as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” She shot from the ground, disappearing in the sky in a blur of red and blue.

He reached for her calling out, “(Y/N)!” He lost sight of her as quickly as she left, and the other two ran up to him.

“Tim!” The taller boy stopped, looking down at the corpse next to him, jaw dropping in shock. “…Oh my god. Wh—what happened?” He looked at the other. “Tim?”

He shook his head, eyes meeting the shorter one. “Bart, I need you to get to Central and find Wally and Dick and tell them to get to the cave.” Bart nodded and spun, taking off in a flash of yellow lightning.

The other boy knelt, picking him up off the ground. “Tim, what happened?”

He groaned, hand moving to hold his side once more. “(Y/N) killed him on accident.” Tim looked at him. “Conner, I can get back to the tower on my own, but I need someone to get to Jason.” He sucked in a breath, reaching up and wiping the blood from his nose though it still bled despite him. “Kori and Roy will probably be with him, but right now, we need everyone who can search.”

Conner nodded, steadying Tim on his feet before rising from the ground; he looked down at him. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head, grimace crossing his lips as he muttered, “I don’t think we’re gonna find her for a long time.” He glanced up at Conner. “Go. Now.” The boy nodded, flying off, and Tim took a few steps forward before stumbling into a wall. He heaved a sigh, picking up his transmitter from his belt.

He pushed a button, and a few seconds later, a voice came over the line. What’s going on?

Tim frowned and asked, “What’s your E.T.A. to earth?”

Eighteen hours. What happened?

Tim glanced back at the body, the puddle of blood seeming to consume it. “It was (Y/N). She… she killed someone.”

The voice on the line was silent, then it said, Superman is on his way. Call me when he gets there.

The line went dead, and Tim sighed, sliding down the wall. He lent his head back, eyes staring up at the sky, waiting for (Y/N)’s father.

***Later In The Cave***

The group stood in silence, faces molded in a mixture of shock and pain. Tim yelped as Alfred pushed on his side. “Ow shi—Alfred!”

The man hummed, wrapping the cloth around his side. “Apologies, Master Tim.” He tucked an ice-pack between the layers. “With the broken ribs you’ve got, it would be best to keep ice close. I also advise against any harsh movements.”

Tim nodded, gaze turning to the man beside his oldest brother. “Clark.”

The man looked up from the ground, voice stricken as he lamented, “I can’t hear her. She’s…completely silent…” his eyes held a deep and sorrowed pain. “I can’t hear my baby girl.”

The others listened, then Jason stepped forward, expression grim and solemn. “Tim, what exactly happened in San Francisco today?”

The boy looked over at him before dropping his gaze to the ground, sighing, “What didn’t happen out there, Jason?”

Tim shook his head, clearing his throat. “It was a routine mission, patrol the area before getting back to the tower, but Bart called and said that he saw what looked to be a meta-human going on a rampage. We all met up and started fighting, and while it took some time, we managed to get him to an abandoned warehouse complex. Turns out, he not only had super strength, but he could also make copies of himself, and when I figured out that the original was susceptible to damage while he had copies, I sent Conner, Bart, and (Y/N) to fight the copies while I found him.”

He paused, picking at his nails. “What I didn’t expect was for him to throw me into a forklift and break three of my ribs. I tried to get up, but before I could move, his hands were around my throat, and he was lifting me up off the ground.” He absentmindedly reached up, fingers brushing the purple hand-prints around his pale neck. “Everything was happening so fast, and I couldn’t get my bearings in time. My vision started to get dark, and I could hear (Y/N) shouting from behind, and the next thing I knew, I was being dropped again. When I could see and breath clearly again, I looked up, and I saw (Y/N)…I saw her…”

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he glanced up, seeing Conner nodding firmly at him. He let out a breath and said, “And I saw (Y/N) standing there, and the meta-human lying in a pool of his own blood and he had…he had a hole through his chest.”

Quiet gasps were heard around the cave, and Tim looked up at Clark. “It was just an accident Clark, she didn’t mean to do it. She was trying to save me.” The man didn’t look at him, eyes glued to the floor as he swallowed thickly, obviously thinking about what he was just told.

Jason stepped up to Tim. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head. “No, she took off before I could stop her.”

“So, you’re pretty much saying that she could be anywhere.” Everyone turned their head at the sound of Dick’s voice.

Tim nodded. “That’s why I called everyone here. We need help trying to find her.”

Dick turned to Wally. “You and Bart comb Central.” The two took off, and Dick turned to Kori. “You should take Roy and go check around hideouts the Outlaws frequent.” Kori and Roy made their way to the stairs. “Tim, you sit out and monitor everything. Conner, you can help me and Jason check Gotham. Clark…”

Dick walked over and resting a hand on his arm. “You should go home and tell Lois about what’s happened, then check Metropolis.” Clark nodded, but made no move to go, and Dick squeezed his arm gently. “Clark.” He looked at Dick. “We will find her, I promise.”

Clark nodded again, this time finding his feet; he paused as he reached them and turned to Jason. “Jason?” He turned, waiting for Clark to continue. “I don’t really have any doubt that you’ll be the one to find her tonight…” His voice soft as he asked, “But when you do, will you tell her that I’m not angry at her?” Jason nodded, and they watched Clark leave.

Dick faced them, tone quiet. “Conner, you and I can take North and East Gotham, Jason, you should take South and West.”

They nodded at his words, each moving to the exit. Tim’s voice reached them before they could leave. “Jason! Can you wait for a minute?”

Jason nodded at the others, watching them leave before moving back to Tim. “What’s up?”

Tim hung his head and whispered, “It’s my fault, Jason. I should’ve been more vigilant when I was fighting. If I had gotten up sooner, none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry—”

A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up; Jason stared at him seriously. “Tim, it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t (Y/N)’s either.” He squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently. “Okay?” Tim nodded and Jason let go, though he saw the tears in Tim’s eyes.

***

Jason crouched atop the ledge staring down at the city, a frown crossing his lips. He didn’t bother to look up at the sound of someone’s boots hitting the rooftop, or when they stopped beside him. “Have you found her?”

He snorted, eyes following a car on the busy road. “Do you honestly think I’d be up here if I had?” He glanced up, seeing Dick slightly grinning at him.

Dick lowered himself on the ledge until he sat next to Jason, legs hanging freely off the edge. The two of them simply stared out at the streets, observing the cars carrying their passengers’ home.

After a few moments, Dick asked, “Where do you think she is?”

He watched Jason shrug and murmur, “I have no idea…I’ve searched everywhere that has any kind of meaning to us and I still can’t find her.” He looked at Dick, eyes filled with trepidation. “I’m worried about her, Dick…she’s all alone out there, thinking about what’s happened, and it’s eating me up.” He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have left San Francisco earlier. I should’ve stayed.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up at his words. “Wait, you were in San Fran earlier today?”

Jason nodded. “Spent the night with her but left in the morning.” He thumped the heel of his armored boot against the wall. “I could’ve stopped that meta and she wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re really torn up about her killing someone, Jason.”

Jason turned to Dick, shouting. “Of course I am!” He placed a hand against his chest. “I kill bad people because they’re evil and they deserve it. I wouldn’t want (Y/N) or any of the people I care about to follow the path that I do.” He paused, voice lowering. “(Y/N) is…a good person. She’s kind and caring and she loves everyone with everything she has. She protects those that are innocent and protects those she loves even more fiercely.”

He sighed heavily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’d never want her to have to think about the people she kills like I do.”

“You’re telling me you actually think about the people you kill?”

Jason let out a mirthless laugh, his gaze returning to the city. “Contrary to popular belief and what you see when you look at me, I am not a heartless killer, Dick. I know the consequences of my actions, and believe me, I think about them every moment I’m alive.” He stood and looked down at his brother. “I’m going to hit my apartment and take a nap before getting back out there.”

Dick nodded, observing him as he started climbing down the ledge; he called out to Jason. “She’s really changed you in the year you’ve been together.”

Jason snorted, “Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to keep.” He paused, hand gripping the ledge as he replied, “ But yeah she has… and only in the best ways, Dickhead.”

“Hey!”

***

The apartment was quiet, just as he’d left it the day before, and he shucked his helmet and jacket off, placing them on the table. He bent over, undoing the laces from his boots, kicking them off before reaching up and pulling his domino mask off, raising a hand to rub the fatigue from his eyes. It was a futile attempt to delay the inevitable, and as he made his way to his room, he mentally took note of how long he needed to sleep before getting back in the field to look for her.

As he walked through the hallway, a quick intake of air sounded through the apartment, and Jason reached to his hip, pulling a pistol. He stepped carefully through the hall, checking the rooms before he came up to his bedroom. Sucking in a quiet breath, he stepped into the room, gun following his gaze as it landed on a huddled mass beside the window.

He walked silently over to it, and upon closer inspection, his eyes widened, voice laced with disbelief as he questioned, “(Y/N)?”

She raised her head, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. “Jason?” she whispered, unsure of herself.

He lowered the gun, placing it on the nightstand before moving to her, hands grasping her upper arms. “(Y/N), we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you call one of us and tell us where you were?” She didn’t respond to him, simply looking down. Jason let go of one of her arms, gently cupping her cheek. “Doll?”

He felt something wet drip onto his hand, and finally, she sat up straight and stared at him. The blanket she’d been covered with fell away, and his gaze dropped to her arms. His eyes widened at the sight of the faint red smeared across her arm. “(Y/N),” He breathed.

“I kept scrubbing and scrubbing, but no matter how hard or how much I did, it wouldn’t come off.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she lowered her head. “I didn’t mean to do it Jason. I just…”

Jason reached for her, pulling her into his arms and hoisting her up. He reclined against the headboard, arms wound tightly around her. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I killed him, Jason.” (Y/N) pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept yelling for him to let Tim go, but he wouldn’t. I could hear Tim’s heartbeat fading and I just reacted.” She gazed at her arm. “I put my arm through his chest, Jason!” (Y/N) stared at her arm as if it didn’t belong to her body, an alienated limb, then she felt herself being lifted again. “Jason what—”

He said nothing, maneuvering her into the bathroom where he sat her on the sink. She watched as he pulled a rag from the cabinet and reached below the sink for a bottle. He poured the solution into the rag, then gently took her arm, wiping it. His gaze was unreadable, but it was anything but hard; in fact, it was soft, and before she knew it, the remaining blood had been wiped away.

Jason threw the towel into the hamper and turned back to her, cradling her face in his hands. “It’s all gone, (Y/N)…it’s not there anymore.” Her eyes lowered to her arm before they rose back to his, and he pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to think about this anymore, doll.”

“I killed him though, Jason.”

She felt him shake his head and he asked, “What would’ve happened if you hadn’t?” She went silent, and Jason asked again, “(Y/N), what would’ve happened to Tim if you hadn’t protected him?”

Clearing her throat, she whispered, “He would’ve died.”

“No, he would’ve been murdered.” Jason looked in her eyes. “(Y/N),you saved Tim’s life.”

“At the expense of another’s.”

Jason let out a sigh and nodded. “Sometimes that’s the only way…but (Y/N)?” She looked at him and he insisted clearly, “What you did today…does not make you a killer, and it doesn’t make you a murderer…do you understand that?”

(Y/N) blinked at him before looking away and muttering, “…You should call everyone and tell them where I am.”

Jason reached down and picked her up from the sink, flicking off the light and moving to the bed. He lowered her down before crawling under the covers beside her, pulling her to him and raising the covers to their chins.

“I’ll call later.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Right now, the only thing that matters is you.” (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from crying, and a moment later, Jason quipped, “Remember that time that you threw me out of a third story window?”

(Y/N) let out a watery laugh, burying her face in his chest. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you, Jason?”

She glanced up at him, and he leaned down, pecking her nose. “If I keep getting a reaction out of it, probably not.”

(Y/N) searched his eyes for a moment then whispered, “I love you, Jason.”

He nodded, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you too, (Y/N).” He curled his arms around her, caging her to his chest. “Get some sleep…I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She did as he said, tucking her head under his chin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, doll.”

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tennessoui · 3 years

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Ummmmmm can i please request 5

This was written all on my phone waiting for my train and I’m trying to post it through my phone which tumblr is being a lil bitch about but here is

5. Falling Pregnant After A One Night Stand (3.6k)

(squick: a/b/o dynamics, mpreg)(two tags I never thought I’d write lmao)

Anakin’s working on the couch when he hears the key in the lock of the apartment door, signaling that finally—finally—Obi-Wan’s home from his week-long hastily planned stay at Bail’s place.

Bail and Breha’s place, Anakin reminds himself. Obi-Wan’s mated friends pose no competition to Anakin’s inner alpha, which definitely thinks of Obi-Wan as his omega.

Obi-Wan comes into the main room quietly, putting his bag on one of the barstools and leaning against the counter for a second, head bowed.

When he lets out a sigh and a heavy curse, Anakin can’t stop himself from speaking up, alarmed. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Obi-Wan jolts and turns around to face the couch, clearly startled. “Anakin!” he yelps, one hand flying to his stomach and the other to grip the counter behind him, as if Anakin is an intruder, and not the man he’s been living with for six years. “I thought you’d be at work!”

Anakin fights the urge to flush. The truth is, he’s tried to go into work for the past three days, but Obi-Wan’s absense has kicked his alpha hindbrain into a special kind of panic mode, where he can’t stand to leave the den until the omega returns to it safely.

It’s not like Anakin’s going to say that though, not after five years of pining for the older omega from afar. He’s a pro at this by now.

“Working from home today,” Anakin says. And then so Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s spent his entire week alone on the couch waiting to be not alone anymore (he has), he lies, “Woke up hungover.”

“On a Thursday?” Obi-Wan says, sounding a bit concerned.

Anakin purses his lips and tries not to pout. He rakes his eyes over the omega, taking in his messed up hair and untrimmed beard and the dark circles that have popped up beneath his eyes. “You didn’t answer, Obi-Wan,” he accuses. “What’s wrong?”

The omega’s scent tinges with distress, which only proves Anakin’s point further. Obi-Wan never lets his scent leak through his blockers, not if he can help it. Anakin’s always made sure to luxuriate in his unbridled scent when he can, one that smells like maple and rain and cinnamon. But to smell it now just makes him feel more worried.

“Are you going into—“ Anakin stutters over the word heat. Obi-Wan’s at least feeling well enough to roll his eyes fondly. The older omega thinks Anakin’s one of those alphas that get wildly uncomfortable talking about an omega’s heat. It’s not true. Anakin’s helped friends through heats both platonically and sexually. Look, he’s run to the corner bodega at two in the morning to get Padmé heating pads to be left outside her door. He’s no stranger to heats.

But the idea of his prim and proper roommate writhing around in his nest, begging for something to fill him up the way he needs—that makes Anakin stutter and blush and trip over his words.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, but there’s something off in his tone, something sour in his scent. Anakin puts his laptop aside—the screen’s gone dark already anyway—and makes to stand, his inner alpha baying with the need to run his hands over the omega, to make sure he’s not bleeding or hurt or injured—

“I—I’m going to unpack and take a shower,” Obi-Wan decides, pushing away from the counter and closer to the couch. Not close enough. But closer. “And then I need to talk to you about something.”

“Are you…” Anakin casts around for the right word to say. Ill. Leaving me. Sick. Sick of me. Done with all of this. Dying.

Obi-Wan pauses and gives him his own sort of once-over. Whatever he finds in either his body language or his scent brings a soft smile to the omega’s face. “I’m fine, dear one. I—I need a shower. I don’t—smell right.”

Anakin blinks after him, hands balling into fists and relaxing as he processes those words. Usually it’s Anakin who wants Obi-Wan to shower off the stench of other alphas after his business trips or stays at his friends’ places. Obi-Wan’s always insisted he smells fine, but he’ll cave if Anakin’s mood gets bad enough.

It’s not something he’s especially proud of, but it’s worth it when Obi-Wan curls up onto the couch beside Anakin and he smells only like the shampoo and soap they share.

Sometimes if he’s tired enough, he’ll even let Anakin scent mark him so that next time he goes out, everyone will automatically assume he’s already in possession of an alpha and not looking for anything.

Sometimes, he even asks for it. Those times are the best.

Anakin tries to sit still while he waits for Obi-Wan to come back, but it’s impossible. He moves to the table, then to the kitchen counter, then back to the couch. Where should he sit, where would be a place he feels safe enough to receive whatever news Obi-Wan’s putting off telling him?

In the omega’s arms in his own bed, is the answer that comes to mind. But can he really ask that of Obi-Wan? They’ve done it before, when Anakin’s mother had died, when Ahsoka had left the city to get a degree abroad, when Anakin feels as though he’s going to shake apart if he doesn’t hold onto his omega and make sure that he at least can’t leave him too.

When Obi-Wan comes out of his room, all flushed from the shower with his hair still damp and messy, wearing a blue sweater Anakin’s pretty sure used to be his and a pair of sweatpants that are definitely currently his, there’s hardly a choice to make. If Obi-Wan wants to wear his scent, Anakin will give it to him.

Silently he takes his hand and leads him to his bedroom, toeing out of his shoes and tugging him into his bed and into his arms.

Obi-Wan goes so easily that it only makes Anakin more worried. His heart cannot take this level of stress and he has to hide his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and inhales greedily at the pure scent of omega—Obi-Wan omega—his omega.

“Obi-Wan,” he says nonsensically, just to feel the way the omega in his arms shudders at the sensation of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck.

But then Obi-Wan doesn’t stop shaking and Anakin can feel a growing wetness against his shirt. He can’t stop the distressed rumble that comes out of his throat, but he bites his tongue just in time to stop the alpha command to tell him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t like that and Anakin wouldn’t like doing it.

His hands stroke soothingly over the omega’s back as he starts purring from within his chest. An alpha’s purr is supposed to reassure an omega, make them feel safe and protected, but Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to realize this because he doesn’t stop crying.

“Talk to me,” Anakin murmurs nosing at the short hairs behind Obi-Wan’s ears. “Baby. Obi. Omega. What is wrong? What can I do?”

Obi-Wan wipes his eyes dry on Anakin’s shirt and looks up at him with a heartbroken but strangely resigned expression. Like he already knows what Anakin’s going to do, and he thinks nothing he says will change anything.

As if.

When Obi-Wan went on a two month long business trip three years ago, Anakin grew out a beard and it only took one look from the omega upon his return before Anakin was shaving it off. The point is, Obi-Wan doesn’t even need to speak half the time for Anakin to agree. He’s just that in love. It’s pathetic. He can’t remember who he was before it.

“I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan finally gets out, retracting one of his hands from the tight grip he has on Anakin’s shirt to rub at his eye. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this, but. I don’t—it’s—“

“Hey, hey,” Anakin soothes, leaning back a bit so he can knock their foreheads together. Packmates do that all the time. “It’s okay.”

Obi-Wan nods slowly, and his scent expands with the pleasant notes of a comforted, protected omega.

“Do you remember…when I went to Seattle at the end of August for that conference?” he starts slowly.

Anakin hums in acknowledgement. He’d wanted to go with Obi-Wan, instincts demanding that the other side of the country was too far for the omega to travel alone, but he’d not been able to get time off of work.

His heart drops into his stomach at the idea that somehow maybe Obi-Wan met someone there during his four-day trip, and he’s in love with them and is trying to find a way to tell Anakin he’s moving.

Would it be pathetic if Anakin followed him? Would Obi-Wan’s new alpha allow Anakin to live with Obi-Wan still? Would Obi-Wan’s alpha be amenable to telling Anakin how he made Obi-Wan fall in love with him in a matter of days when Anakin’s been trying to get the man to love him romantically for six years?

Anakin’s heart rate is up, but it’s nothing compared to the staccato beat of Obi-Wan’s. He tries to send out more calming pheromones, but he can’t even find them for himself.

This is it. He’s about to lose Obi-Wan. The alpha inside of him whimpers, and it takes all of his willpower not to crush his omega tighter to his chest.

No. Not his.

“I met a man there, just at the hotel,” Obi-Wan says. It would have been kinder if he’d just stabbed Anakin with the kitchen knife. There’s no relief to be found in this slow death. Because—because surely, Anakin will die without Obi-Wan. Not physically, of course. He’s not one of those alphas who doesn’t know how to take care of himself.

Actually, it’s Anakin that cooks most of the time for both of them. And Anakin will do the shopping, will keep an eye on the amount of cleaning supplies they have, how much toilet paper, how many garbage bags.

But what would be the point of cooking anything if Obi-Wan isn’t there to taste it and shower him with praise? What’s the point of cleaning the apartment if Obi-Wan isn’t there to tuck himself into his arms on the couch and thank him for the work? What’s the point of anything if he’s doing it without Obi-Wan?

“Anakin, I—“ Obi-Wan stutters and falls silent. Anakin braces himself for the end he should have seen coming. “I’m pregnant.”

White noise. Anakin doesn't even think he’s breathing. Obi-Wan is pregnant. Obi-Wan…had a one-night stand in a city 2,400 miles away from Anakin, and he’s pregnant. Someone touched Obi-Wan, someone made Obi-Wan come, someone got Obi-Wan pregnant, and maybe…maybe there’s a chance they’ll get to keep Obi-Wan too.

The alpha in his chest howls at the thought. The idea that—that someone else will have a better claim on Obi-Wan’s heart. What’s six years of living together compared to a child?

Except Obi-Wan presses further into his chest, with a shaky whine. The omega is here now, not with any other alpha, not in any other city. He’s in Anakin’s bed, in Anakin’s arms.

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, how to speak. He needs to know so much more. He needs to know what Obi-Wan is going to do, if he’s in contact with the father, if he’s planning to move, if he’s planning to raise the—

As if he can hear his thoughts, Obi-Wan starts talking again, very fast as if he’s afraid Anakin’s going to kick him out in a few minutes and he needs to get the whole story out before he does.

“I’m keeping it. Them. I—I’m so old now—“ he’s barely 38– “I’m afraid this could be my only chance at…at a family.”

Anakin closes his eyes and hides his face in the still-damp strands of Obi-Wan’s hair. He doesn’t want Obi-Wan to see how devastated he is at this response. Anakin’s family is Obi-Wan. He’d thought…he’d wanted….

“I understand if you want to move out before the lease ends,” Obi-Wan mumbles, but his hands clench tightly around Anakin’s back. “I know…a baby…another alpha’s baby…you shouldn’t have to take care of them. I know it’s not what you signed up for, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t hold it against you.” His voice gets smaller and smaller until Anakin has to strain to hear him. “I can do this alone.”

He sounds as if he’s telling himself as much as he’s telling Anakin. But Anakin can’t even focus on that because his entire attention is caught by everything else Obi-Wan’s just said. Because it sounds…it sounds as if Obi-Wan is planning to stay in the city. In the apartment. Without the sire.

Alone.

As if Anakin would ever let Obi-Wan be alone, given the choice. As if Anakin would ever leave Obi-Wan to struggle through any difficulty without him.

Obi-Wan presses impossibly closer to him. “Say something,” he demands, running his nose up and down Anakin’s neck, over his scent glands, as if he expects Anakin to be able to form whole, coherent sentences when he’s doing that with his mouth.

The pregnancy must be messing with Obi-Wan’s instincts and emotions, Anakin realizes distantly. His body must know he’s not mated, that he’s about to be a visibly pregnant, unmated Omega in a dangerous city. No wonder he’s trying to cover himself so completely in Anakin’s scent. He has to wonder if Obi-Wan even understands what he’s doing. He’s never been one to try and he in touch with his Omegan side.

“Alpha,” Obi-Wan pleads, and Anakin has a second realization that it’s been ages since he’s said something. The room fills with the scent of distressed, in pain omega.

Anakin lets out an involuntary purr and tightens his hold on Obi-Wan’s body. It would be nice to look him in the eyes, but he thinks they both need as little distance between themselves as possible. “You’re going to make a great parent,” he soothes, nuzzling along Obi-Wan’s hairline. “And I’m not going to leave you unless you want me to.”

Obi-Wan stills completely as if shocked to his bones, and then he relaxes bonelessly into Anakin’s arms. This time, Anakin feels the tears as soon as they start and he goes about stroking up and down Obi-Wan’s spine again.

“I was so afraid,” Obi-Wan admits between sobs. Anakin thinks to himself privately that he definitely knows how that feels, but one of them shouldn’t be crying. “I didn’t know how to tell you—I didn’t want you to hate me for making such a stupid mistake—“

There’s nothing Obi-Wan could do to make him hate him. Sure, Anakin’s absolutely filled with hatred for whoever caught Obi-Wan’s eye on that business trip, but none of those emotions bleed over into what he feels for Obi-Wan. Not when his love is too strong and entrenched.

“Bail said you’d understand but I’m just—a mess, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and these goddamn hormones are making me feel out of control—“ Obi-Wan continues. The fact that Bail fucking Organa found out about Obi-Wan’s pregnancy before Anakin did will drive him crazy if he lets it, so he puts that aside for now and focuses on comforting his omega.

“We’ll figure it out,” Anakin says, scenting Obi-Wan back. “It’ll be alright.”

————

A few hours later, Obi-Wan awakens from the nap he’s fallen into with a start. Anakin’s gotten no sleep, too busy drawing nonsense lines on Obi-Wan’s back and staring at the ceiling, thinking about the future. About what’s going to happen to them, around them.

No matter how much he hates the sire of the child in Obi-Wan, he already feels attached to the baby. It’s part of Obi-Wan. Maybe they’ll have his hair color or his eyes. Maybe they’ll have his compassion, his wit. Maybe they’ll let Anakin teach them how to play soccer or swim or cook.

The possibilities are endless and all of them involve Obi-Wan falling in love with him because of how amazing of a father he is to his child.

It’s not the most pressing thought in his mind, but he has to admit at least to himself that it’s there. That he’s just as in love with Obi-Wan as he was when he woke up in the morning. Now he just has another part of Obi-Wan to love: his child.

Maybe their child.

“I need to tell him,” Obi-Wan mumbles from his spot laying across Anakin’s chest. “I don’t—I don’t particularly want his involvement or, or money, but he should know. He should have the option to be in his child’s life.”

The part of Anakin who has just spent the past three hours getting used to the idea of raising Obi-Wan’s child as if he’s his own bristles at the idea of the sire being involved at all.

“Do you have his number?” Anakin asks reluctantly. He can’t imagine getting to sleep with someone as gorgeous as Obi-Wan and not trying to give him a means of keeping in contact.

But Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“His address?”

Another negative. “I…know his name and where he works.”

Anakin bares his teeth at the ceiling. “And?”

Obi-wan sounds more than a bit embarrassed. “Ah. He was the bartender at the hotel. And his name tag said Set.”

“You went to a medical conference full of alpha surgeons and researchers and you…slept with the bartender,” Anakin says blankly, before he can stop himself.

Obi-Wan huffs. It’s the most Obi-Wan response he’s given since he got home from Bail’s. “Sorry my one-night stands don’t meet your standards.”

Anakin hums. The truth is the only person who will ever meet his standards as a romantic partner for Obi-Wan is Anakin. “So what do you want to do? Call the hotel and ask for Set?”

Which, by the way, is the most pretentiously Seattle name he’s ever heard of. Set’s given name is probably, like, David and he just wanted to sound cool and grunge.

“I can’t just—this isn’t something I can say over the phone, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. He falls silent.

“It’s mid-November,” Anakin points out. “Neither of us are hurting for money, but plane tickets are going to be astronomical until January at least. If they’re available at all.”

There’d be shitty seats available, of course, but Anakin’s not going to let his pregnant omega cram himself into an uncomfortable, smelly seat for eight hours.

“You don’t—I don’t expect you to come with me,” Obi-Wan mumbles into Anakin’s collarbone.

Anakin just manages to bite back a scoff and the urge to point out that last time Obi-Wan went off to Seattle without him, he got pregnant. Who knows what would happen if he does it again?

“Well, I’m gonna,” he says firmly. “But I think we should drive. It’ll take longer, but I’d feel much better about what you’re exposed to, not to mention how much more comfortable my car is than a coach seat. We can share a motel bed to cut costs, and—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Obi-Wan picks himself up off his chest to stare at him quizzically. “What if your job won’t let you take the days off? They didn’t even let you leave for the original Seattle trip and that was only a few days. We’re talking weeks here, Ani.”

Anakin sets his face into a scowl. He’s worked at the same finance firm since moving to New York, but if they won’t let him take time off for this, for Obi-Wan, he’ll quit. Simple as that. “Then I’ll go anyway and they can fire me.”

Predictably, Obi-Wan has several protests. Anakin will hear none of them. If he is fired, if he can’t find another finance job in the city that makes the same amount of money, then they’ll move out to somewhere else. He’s heard good things about Denver. And if Obi-Wan doesn’t want to move that far, maybe they can move upstate. It’ll be easier to raise a kid outside of the city anyway.

He’s not dumb enough to tell Obi-Wan this, knowing it makes him sound literally insane, but he is just stupid enough to cut Obi-Wan off and say, “you’re the most important person in my life, Obi-Wan. You….you both are.”

Hesitantly he moves his hand down to rest it gently over the slightest swell of Obi-Wan’s tummy. The omega’s breath catches in his throat, but he lets him touch.

“I’m going to be there with you, every step of the way if you’ll have me,” Anakin adds, stroking his thumb over the impossibly soft skin. Pregnant. Obi-Wan is pregnant.

It’ll take a few days more to get completely used to that idea, that’s for sure.

Obi-Wan studies his face with eyes still red-rimmed and puffy from all that crying a few hours ago. Slowly he raises his own hand to Anakin’s neck and rubs up and down his scent gland with something almost like longing in his expression. They’re so close together. Anakin would let him have anything—everything.

Everything.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan agrees with an air of strained incredulity in his voice , placing his other hand over Anakin’s on top of his abdomen. “Yes. Let’s drive to Seattle so I can tell my one-night stand that I’m carrying his child.”

Anakin nods and adds privately in his head, And so I can tell him that that kid’s gonna be mine in everything but blood and he better stay on his side of the goddamn country.

He’s not losing his family to some stupid Seattle alpha.

#asks #prompt fill #I could definitely see 2 more parts of this #part 2 the road trip #part 3 the get together where anakin meets set and is very surprised when they look identical #this was so fun and cute to write that’s why it’s 3.6k btw #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #stuck between calling this the roadtrip au or the baby daddy au #baby daddy vs found father showdown fight to death au #anakin would 😌❤️#anyway this was supposed to have a lot more italics but they didn’t copy from the Google doc so when I finally get home I’ll add them #obikin #omega obi-wan kenobi #alpha anakin skywalker #roadtrip au

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londonhalcyon · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday but it’s Thursday but I was tagged on Wednesday so I’m calling it Wednesday and going to bed as soon as I hit post

Tagged by @dumpsterhipster . Tagging @unoriginal2tall . No pressure to join in! I’m just gonna start throwing the invitation out there. If anyone else wants to participate, please do! If you tag me when you share, I’ll aim to tag you in the future.

I’ve finished the rough draft of the Mad Witch chapter 31, so I can’t share anything from that quite yet, so here’s more post-canon Fallout 4. This angsty piece takes place well after this scene and is one of the events that prompts this disastrous buddy cop (detective?) road trip. Just a fair warning that it gets a bit dark and deals with heavy themes of grief. Uh, enjoy?

In one fluid motion, Ros drew her pistol on Piper, the hammer clicking under her thumb. Piper raised her hands alongside her head. “Easy! Easy!” she gasped. “No, keep that gun lowered, doll.” This second command wasn’t directed at Ros. It was directed at Nora, who had trained her .44 on Ros the moment her hand had gone for her hip.

Nora didn’t take her eyes off Ros. Nor did she lower her gun. “Piper,” Nora warned.

“No one’s shooting anybody,” Piper said. Then, when Nora didn’t move: “Blue.”

Nora pointed her revolver at the floor, although she kept both hands firmly on it, maintaining a ready stance. “Easy, darling,” she told Ros, her voice low. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to do this,” Piper said softly.

Ros’s grip on her gun was white-knuckled. Sweat gathered beneath her palm. Breathless, wild, she said, “I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“You have us,” Piper said.

“You can’t promise that.”

“What is hurting me going to accomplish?”

Ros couldn’t answer. She couldn’t drop Piper’s gaze either—she physically couldn’t. There was something fierce and earnest in that freckled face, behind those hazel green eyes. Something that burned Ros to look at. And, yet, if she looked away, Ros would shatter because of it.

“You’re safe here,” Nora said. “We’re friends.”

Ros scoffed, “Are you?”

“I’m not going to fight you,” Piper said. “Tell us how we can help you. Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me.” There was no backing out. No returning the gun to its holster. They couldn’t pretend this had never happened, so there was no way all of them would get out of this alive. Someone would have to pull a trigger, and Ros didn’t want it to be her.

Not while aiming at Piper, at least.

“Let me try,” Piper said. Her voice was shaking, just like her hands, which were still raised alongside her head. But she spoke so calmly, so softly, as if Ros was no more than a frightened child.

“You can’t,” Ros hissed. “You can’t make it go away. It’s always there, empty and rotting.”

“What is, hon?”

Ros had no words for it. She didn’t need them. When she took her free hand and clawed her fingers across her chest, the pity in Piper’s face told her she had conveyed exactly what she had wanted to say.

Nora sucked in a breath. “Sweetie…”

A jolt rocked Ros’s entire body. She twitched the gun toward Nora. “Don’t call me that!”

“Easy!”

“Careful, hon.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” She rotated her aim between them. “You’ve been acting like my mom. You’re not! My mom’s dead. You’re not her!”

They stared at her. Maybe they were stunned. Maybe they were waiting for her to say more. She didn’t have a choice. The rotting hole beneath her fingers was caving in.

“She’s dead,” she repeated. “My whole family—everyone I have ever loved is dead. I have nothing—nothing left to lose. Don’t make me pretend otherwise.”

“Ros—”

Ros turned her gun back on Piper, who broke off with a gasp. The fearful noise, Piper’s flinch—it brought Ros an odd satisfaction. It felt right. Far more right than her infuriating forced calm. “Haven’t you heard?” Ros laughed. “I’m the Grim Reaper. Death follows me wherever I go.”

“Ros.” Nora this time. Ros didn’t look away from Piper again, because the rational part of her brain that was still functioning said this would hurt Nora the most. The irrational part of her brain, the one that was running the show, found an odd satisfaction in that too. “Hey, Ros, tell me about your gun.”

“What?” Ros asked. Piper frowned, equally confused.

“Guns sometimes have stories. What’s yours?”

“Don’t—don’t distract me.”

“I’m not. This is relevant, I promise. What’s your gun’s story?”

A tremble ran through the weapon. Ros brought her left hand up to steady it, finally gripping it properly. Her fingertips rubbed against the nicks in its trigger guard. “It…it doesn’t have one. I traded for it, about a year ago. I lost the last one. Threw it at a raider’s head when I ran out of ammo.”

Nora laughed once. It was a breathless laugh, the kind formed when pressure intensified every emotion. “See, that’s a story. My gun has a story too.” Ros dared to watch her from the corner of her eye as she held up the modded .44 for her to see. “This revolver,” Nora stated, “belonged to the man who murdered my husband and kidnapped my son. I took it from him after I killed him. I would’ve tossed it in the river years ago if it hadn’t kept me alive repeatedly since then.”

More tremors ran through Ros’s gun, stronger than before. She couldn’t keep her aim straight, not long enough to react when Nora stepped in front of Piper. Piper’s hand grabbed her arm from behind, but Nora elbowed her, forcing her back.

“Piper’s pistol has her own story,” Nora continued. “She inherited it from her dad after he was murdered.”

“Blue,” Piper warned.

Nora ignored her. Slowly, she holstered the .44 and raised her empty hands, arms extended, palms upturned. She took a step forward.

Ros shifted her weight from foot to foot, rocked by a burst of adrenaline with nowhere to go. “Stay back!” she warned. Everything was shaking now—her voice, her breath, her hands, her legs. Even her vision was wavering.

“I can’t comprehend what you’ve gone through, how much pain you’ve been in for a very long time. I only know what I feel right here.” Nora placed her left hand on her chest, her fingers clawing into her shirt. “How empty and raw it is, like someone ripped out a part of me that can never be filled. Sometimes it burns so much I can’t breathe.”

“What’s the point?” Ros said hoarsely. Her throat was almost too tight to speak. “What’s the point of anything?”

“The point”—Nora reached behind her to briefly squeeze Piper’s hand—“is that when I was lost, someone was waiting for me at the city gates. Locked out, actually. Waving her arms and yelling.” She gave a half-smile. “I found good people, kind people. People that were willing to love me if I let them. I have a family again.”

“You’re not my family.” There was no more anger behind Ros’s words. There was simply a tired, miserable grief.

Nora’s smile turned sad. “I know,” she said, and that was it. That was the trigger that had been pulled. Just not from a gun.

Ros closed her eyes. The hammer on her pistol clicked. She rotated it in her hand until the handle was facing away from her. “Take it,” she whispered. “Before I do something.”

The cold metal left her fingers. Without it, she might as well have been drifting away through air. She no longer had a weapon to protect herself from the rotten things in that hole in her chest. So, defenseless, she threw open the door and ran, ignoring the voices that called her back.

#i swear this fic has happy moments #there’s supposed to be goofy dancing and corny jokes…eventually #that’s if i ever write more than these snippets #wip wednesday #fallout 4 #piper wright #sole survivor #ros markey #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 fanfic #hey look new tags

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 25] (31 Pages)

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The fire, and the aftermath.

He’s found another one.

Tobias curses and weaves through the fiery wreckage of the building, hurrying over to the unconscious sandile he’s spotted half-buried in rubble. He makes quick work of digging the ground type out from under the debris, sending a silent prayer up to—well, to someone as he pulls them free and leans in close, pressing a hand to the Pokemon’s chest. He breathes a sigh of relief when the sandile’s ribs rise and fall under his palm. They’re still alive, even if their breathing is raspy from smoke and burns litter their scales. They’re lucky they’re half ground type, resistant to the flames growing ever-hotter around them.

Tobias hefts the sandile into his arms, stumbling under their weight before righting himself. They’re the third Pokemon he’s stumbled across since running into the fire, and after two previous trips in and out of the building he’s starting to wear down. The heat and smoke are less dangerous to him since he’s a fire type, but along with the scrapes and bruises he’s accumulated, his stamina is slowly running low.

Tobias tries to shove away his looming exhaustion, turning to squint at his fiery surroundings before deciding on the least dangerous-looking path and moving outward towards safety. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in here, finding Pokemon who didn’t make it out of the building before it started to come down, raining fire and rock and choking the air with smoke, but he still catches occasional glimpses of other Seekers darting in and out of the flames, also looking for more injured Pokemon.

He’s starting to worry they won’t be able to find everyone in time. Not all Pokemon can withstand flames and smoke like this, not to mention the ceiling slowly caving in above them.

Some part of Tobias can’t help worrying if they’ve found Junie yet.

He may not like the rookidee much, but that doesn’t mean he wants her to die. He’d gone back into the flames partially with her in mind, after all, knowing she got caught up in the crowd and separated from him and Nia.

Tobias rounds a bend in the fiery shambles, sharp eyes on the lookout for anyone else trapped in the rubble. A flicker of movement catches his eye, and he glances over as a typhlosion rushes past him with three or four small Pokémon laid out across her back, her movements confident in a way that only an experienced rescuer could be. Tobias scans the unconscious Pokemon, but no, she’s not carrying a rookidee. The typhlosion hesitates at the sight of him, but he jerks his head in a “Go on, I’ve got this” motion, trying to seem calm and strong even if his legs feel like they might give out at any second. She looks uncertain, but glances back at her charges before nodding and racing forwards again, presumably to an exit.

Tobias takes a bracing breath of smoky air and follows her.

Finally, he makes it back to one of the huge gaps in the wall of the building, stumbling through into fresh night air that feels almost cold against his heated skin. He blinks hard as he passes by Seekers and fire rescue Pokemon, eyes slowly adjusting after the dazzling light of the flames. He finds one of the medical teams that have set up post around the perimeter and drops the sandile off there, relieved to see the ground type still taking rattling gulps of air.

He’s supposed to report back each time he returns from a trip inside the building, but Keegan is nowhere to be seen and Tobias isn’t sure who else he could notify. Instead of worrying about it, he takes a moment to breathe and recuperate, wandering back towards where he’d left Nia to see if she has any news on Junie. Maybe one of the other Seekers found the rookidee and already brought her out to safety.

Tobias scans the Pokemon around him for Nia, tuning out the shouts of the Seekers and the murmuring of the civilians gathered around the blazing building. He slowly makes it back to what used to be the front of the structure, looking for a familiar blue and black pelt in the low light. He frowns when he doesn’t see her, turning slowly and cursing the confusing combination of darkness alongside the orange wash of flames—it makes it hard to find anyone in this mess.

He looks once again for his partner.

And looks.

By the fourth time Tobias has searched the crowd around him and found no riolu, something in his chest is tight. Maybe she’s at one of the medical stations with Junie?

His heartbeat grows louder in his ears as he moves his search to the nearest medical tent, asking for a riolu and maybe a rookidee. Nothing, so he moves on to the next. And the next.

“Where are you, you idiot?” He mumbles, ignoring the way his voice shakes. Something like dread twists in his gut, and he ignores that too. He glances at the burning building, but then resolutely looks away again, back out at the endless storm of Pokemon rushing around and yelling and watching and crying.

Surely she didn’t—

“Have you seen a riolu around?” Tobias asks the first Seeker he finds, trying to sound calm and confident.

The flareon’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head. “No, sorry. Were they inside the building?”

“Not when I went in, but now I can’t find her,” Tobias responds, glancing again at the fire. Another chunk of the ceiling caves in, crashing loudly into the flaming wreckage, and the flareon’s ears twitch.

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” The flareon says, sympathetic. His dark gaze flicks down to Tobias’ scarf, and then further down to the scrapes and soot littering his skin. “For now, go to one of the medical stations and get those wounds checked out.”

“Right,” Tobias mumbles, turning and slipping away to not do that. He can worry about his bumps and bruises later. Right now, it’s more important that he finds Nia, makes sure she didn’t do something stupid like—

He shakes his head and moves on, still scanning the crowd and feeling worse with each passing second that he doesn’t see his partner. Nobody has, until he talks to a lycanroc that comes stumbling out of the wreckage.

“A riolu?” The rock type asks, blue eyes teary and squinted as he coughs. Then his ears perk and he lifts his head. “Yeah, my partner and I saw ‘em a bit ago.”

Tobias barely stops himself from grabbing the lycanroc by the scruff and shaking him. “Where?”

“She ran into the fire,” The lycanroc says, head tilting. “She had a Seeker scarf on and looked like she knew what she was doing so we didn’t try to stop her.”

The rock type is saying something else, but Tobias’ doesn’t hear him. A cold wash of fear runs through his body, leaving his stinging cuts and aching bruises feeling numb. Slowly, he turns his head to look again at the fiery shell of the building, at the flames licking higher into the dark sky. Another part of the wall crumbles, and the foundation shakes.

No. Nia can be naïve but she’s not stupid, she would know better than to go running into that, she—

For just a moment Tobias thinks of lying on a mossy dungeon floor, on the brink of consciousness, and a trembling riolu stepping in front of him, branch held at the ready to defend him from a pack of feral Pokemon.

A stupid, stupid, stupid bleeding-heart riolu.

Without another thought, Tobias races away from the lycanroc and his yelled questions, past other Seekers and into the flames yet again. He stumbles over the rubble, cutting open another spot on his foot, but pays it no mind as he looks around, desperately hoping that Nia will magically appear right in front of him. But no, nothing. Just flames and wreckage and smoke—

(She has no protection from the fire, what if she’s already unconscious and buried under rubble where no one will find her?)

“Nia!” Tobias yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as if that’ll make his raspy voice loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames. No response.

Tobias pushes deeper into the shell of the building, moving more carelessly than he had earlier and getting a few new injuries for it. He shouts Nia’s name again, panting hard as he listens for a response.

The roar of the flames around him is loud, the crackling and snapping accompanied by an occasional ground-shaking rumble as another part of the structure falls. The flames are starting to lick at even Tobias’ skin, starting to make him feel itchy and hot, the smoke weighing heavy and unnatural in his lungs.

But he can’t just leave Nia.

Something shifts on the edge of Tobias’ vision, and he whips around, expecting it to be the debris settling, hoping for it to be his partner.

Instead, an arcanine stands atop the rubble.

Tobias’ breath catches in his throat.

Memories try to surface, only adding to his panic.

Bright plumes of flame lighting up cave walls, throwing harsh shadows as snarls ring out. A bright orange pelt, jagged black stripes, bristling cream fur. Sharp fangs and hot breath, a heavy paw on his chest, holding him down, blunt claws digging into his throat, a scar across the arcanine’s eye leading to a shredded ear—

Tobias forces himself to take deep, shaking breaths even as he feels like he’s going to throw up. He stares at the arcanine, putting all his willpower into shoving the memories away and staying on his feet instead of collapsing. The arcanine is too far away to get a good look at his face in the flickering light of the flames, and Tobias knows how unlikely it would be for the outlaw to just be here by chance, but…

But the fire itself shouldn’t have ever started. Shouldn’t have spread so quickly. And the arcanine is just staring at Tobias. Watching him, no visible scarf or sash marking him as a Seeker or fire rescue member.

Then, suddenly, the arcanine turns and bounds away, vanishing into the flames.

“Wait!” Tobias yells, forcing his legs to move and stumbling after the larger fire type.

He pants hard as he follows, knowing how hopeless it is trying to catch the outlaw. Still, he chases after him blindly, a nauseous blend of fear and fury making something hot crawl in his gut. He trips and slams into more debris, another gash opening up his side and bruising his ribs. He ignores it and staggers forward again, looking around wildly.

There! The arcanine is watching him from afar, completely calm and still. An angry snarl rips from Tobias’ throat as he lunges after him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he reaches the outlaw, but he—he has to. He finally has one of the trio he’s been hunting down right here in front of him! He can’t just waste this chance!

Once again, the arcanine turns and leaps away, vanishing behind a large pile of debris. Tobias races after him, vaulting over a flaming wooden support beam, blinking at the dazzling brightness of embers it throws into the air. From there, the arcanine is nowhere to be seen. Tobias curses and spins, looking desperately for that dazzling orange pelt.

The low, creaking rumble of another structure falling sets him on edge. He reluctantly pauses his search for the arcanine to instead scan the ceiling above him. It’s caving in again, and close. Tobias steps back, squinting at the ceiling—half flaming structure and half open sky—and finally, he sees it. Smaller bits of fiery stone and wood are already beginning to rain down where the heavy ceiling is buckling under its own weight.

Tobias absently notes not to go in that direction, gaze flicking down, only to freeze. Directly below the crumbling ceiling are two familiar figures. Their usual black and blue colors are nearly red in the firelight.

Nia and Junie.

No.

Junie is saying something, weakly trying to flap into the air, but her leg is pinned to the ground by rubble. Nia is just shaking her head, slumped over like she’s barely able to hold herself up.

The ceiling groans, and Tobias’ head snaps up to watch, horrified, as it finally starts to cave. He’s moving before he realizes it, sprinting for them and feeling wreckage and rubble trip him up, tear at his skin. He won’t be fast enough.

“Nia!”

Nia’s head lifts and turns—slow, too slow. In the span of a heartbeat he sees her notice him, sees her expression flicker from something he’s never seen on the riolu’s face, something hopeless and dull, to a painful amount of relief. But then he sees her confusion, sees her follow his gaze up to the ceiling. Sees terror pin her ears flat.

It all happens so fast that Tobias isn’t even sure he sees it at all. The ceiling falls, raining boulder-sized debris onto the two of them with enough weight to crush and maim and kill, and Nia throws herself over Junie.

And in the landscape of heat and flame, a flash of bright blue energy lashes out from the riolu, pushes out like a bubble or a dome around Nia and Junie, like—

A shield.

The wreckage falls on top of them with enough force to shake the ground, burying the blue with soot and flame and rock.

Tobias chokes and runs faster, terror flooding his veins and making his heart thud hard against his ribs. No. No no no, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this can’t happen, he didn’t just watch Nia die right in front of him, he can’t do this again!

(“Vivi? Vivi, c’mon, w-wake up!”)

The rubble is still settling when Tobias reaches it. He knows exactly where Nia and Junie had been, and he starts digging, uncaring of how splinters and stone slice at his hands and tear his skin. Entei, he needs help, he isn’t fast enough on his own! Where are the other Seekers?!

Most of the rubble has broken down enough for him pick it up and chuck it away, or to put his body weight into it and shove it aside, but the strain is already taking its toll. His breaths are painful and ragged in his chest, his own body temperature rising dangerously high. But that doesn’t matter. He has to keep going. He has to find them. Even if he knows they had to have been crushed.

Tobias shoves aside another rock, and there’s a flash of soft, sooty blue. His heart jumps, then sinks as he realizes that it’s Junie’s feathers, not Nia’s fur. He should be gentler than he is, but panic makes him yank the painfully light flying type out with rough movements.

As he lifts her body free, Junie’s eyes crack open, glassy with pain. “Nia?”

Tobias just stares in response. Because a large portion of the ceiling just fell on top of Junie, and there’s no way the weightless flying type should even be alive right now, let alone able to talk. She should be a feathery pancake in the dirt.

But he did see Nia dive on top of the rookidee, taking the brunt of the blow. And he saw that strange flash of blue, too. Her aura? Could that have saved them somehow? She was nowhere near the level of making a full-body shield last he’d seen, she’d only just started figuring out how to solidify her aura at all, but…

Tobias sets Junie against a piece of stone and begins digging with renewed energy. Nia has to be here too.

Or her body, at least.

Tobias grits his teeth and ignores that thought the best he can. Just like he’s ignoring the heat under his skin and the blur in his vision, the pain screaming from his bloody hands and cracked, torn claws. Junie’s alive somehow. Nia has to be too.

Another stone upturned, and Tobias stops, seeing a patch of dirty blue fur. Hope threatens to choke him, and he frantically digs through the rest of the rubble to unearth his partner. As soon as he has her head and torso and most of her legs visible, he loops his arms under her and tugs, pulling the riolu free of the debris and staggering back.

Nia doesn’t stir like Junie did, eyes closed and face peaceful save for smudges of ash and patches of raw, burned skin. There’s a trickle of blood coming from her nose. At the very least, her body is miraculously uncrushed, with no obvious displaced bones or flattened limbs. But she’s not moving, not making a sound, bruised and battered and for a moment all Tobias can see is a little orange face so like his own, too still, and he feels his stomach heave with nausea. She can’t die, she can’t be dead, he can’t do this again he can’t handle losing Nia too when she was right there—

Tobias turns his head to lay flat against Nia’s chest, listening for breathing, for a heartbeat. C’mon, c’mon!

There. It’s faint, but her heart thumps once, twice under his ear. A shallow rise and fall of her chest follows. Tobias’ body melts, feeling the solid, living warmth beneath him, and he lets out a shaky breath into Nia’s fur. She’s alive.

“Toby?” Junie rasps from his side, voice wavering with fear.

Tobias lifts his head, suddenly remembering that they’re still in the middle of the fiery building, that they’re still in danger. Even if they can get out of here, Nia and Junie need to see a medic as soon as possible—the two of them have to be overheated and suffering from smoke inhalation at the very least.

The rookidee has settled beside him, feathers ruffled, ruby eyes wide and scared. Her leg is crooked and held out at an awkward angle. Tobias looks at her for a moment, and then down to Nia. He might be able to make it out with the riolu on his back, but even he’s starting to feel the heat and the pain of his wounds. He’s fatigued and can’t guarantee he’ll reach safety in time, and he doesn’t want to risk that. He swallows hard, tries to summon up his calm medic voice, and looks at Junie.

“Can you fly?” He asks.

Junie tentatively stretches out her wings, blinking at them as if she isn’t sure herself. She flaps them, and lifts into the air in a jerky hover, leg still dangling oddly. Must be broken. The rookidee looks back to him, almost as if for confirmation.

Tobias swallows hard, looking at the shaky bird as dread opens a pit in his stomach. Junie’s scared of heights, but it’s very possible they won’t make it out of here without her.

“I need you to fly, Junie, okay?” Tobias says, trying to sound like he’s in control of the situation, like he’s confident that she can do this. He has a feeling he’s still too sharp, too wild-eyed. “I need you to fly up through the roof and get help from the other Seekers. Tell them to come get us.”

Junie shakes her head, tears bubbling up in her eyes. “I-I can’t! I can’t, what—“

“Junie.”

The rookidee quiets, still flapping in jerky motions and visibly shaking.

Tobias swallows hard, grabbing at Nia’s fur under his claws. His eyes never leave the flying type. “I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t important. I know you’re scared, but Nia could die if we don’t get her out of here. We need help.”

For a moment, Tobias thinks he’s broken through to her, that she’ll face her fear and soar into the sky. But the rookidee is injured and frightened, and when she furiously shakes her head she almost knocks herself over.

“I-I can’t!” Junie wails, immediately falling into a hacking fit and dropping back to the ground.

Tobias can’t even find it in himself to be angry, too afraid and exhausted to channel anything else. Instead, he focuses on how they’ll get out of here if they can’t get Junie to send for help. He’s still running on adrenaline alone, and he can feel it start to flag, feel his fatigue start to creep in alongside the pain of his wounds. But they have to leave now—the whole place is coming down and going up in flames all at once, and Nia needs to get checked out as soon as possible.

There’s a sharp crack nearby and Tobias is back on alert, looking around and jumping as more chunks of the ceiling fall to the ground not ten feet away. Tobias snags Junie and pulls her close, covering both her and Nia from the resulting cloud of splintered wood and embers as best he can, hissing as if he could scare away the encroaching flames.

He can’t protect these two on his own. Not here. He wants to wait for help—he’s not even sure if he can pick Nia up in his state, and he shouldn’t even be moving her in case she has a serious injury—but the fire is moving closer and the rest of the building will cave in soon enough.

“We’ve gotta move,” Tobias decides.

Junie doesn’t answer, and Tobias looks down to find that the rookidee has passed out entirely. He must’ve jarred her leg when grabbing her and the spike of pain was too much.

“Anything else want to go wrong?” He grumbles, fighting back a fresh surge of panic. Okay, fine. Now Junie’s passed out too. Great. At least she’s light.

Something crashes to the ground nearby, and Tobias moves into action. He leans down and draws one of Nia’s arms over his shoulder, and then the other. He pulls himself to his feet, stumbling under Nia’s deadweight before managing to haul her forward and onto his back. He’s panting already, dizziness finally starting to spot his vision, but he hops to settle her higher before staggering forward. Nia’s head flops lifelessly onto his shoulder, and something in Tobias’ chest aches at the reminder of their flight to Ghatha not even a day ago. Nia had been so excited for this stupid trip.

Tobias grits his teeth and crouches to awkwardly tuck Junie under his arm. He barely manages to stand, looking around and desperately trying to figure out where they are and how to find the nearest exit. He pushes forward in a random direction, hoping against hope that it’ll lead them to safety.

He’s not sure how long he walks like that, with Nia against his back, his breaths tearing through his chest like an open wound, Junie a limp ball of feathers under his arm. His adrenaline finally drains away, and exhaustion takes its place as spots dapple his vision. His limbs are so heavy. Every step feels like a monumental movement. His hands hurt from the digging, and cuts and bruises litter his body.

The charmander trips over something and crashes to the ground, barely managing to shove Junie out from under him at the last second. He tries to push himself up, Nia a heavy weight on his back, before flopping back into the dirt. He’ll catch his breath. Just a second, a minute to catch his breath, and then he’ll get to his feet again and keep walking. He will. He blinks heavy eyes at the blurred landscape of bright flame and jagged, crumbling silhouettes.

It’s endless, this world of fire and smoke and heat. There’s no escaping it. But he has to. He has to.

For a moment, just as he’s on the edge of consciousness, he swears he sees paws stop in front of his face. Huge paws, with sleek orange fur and blunt claws that have haunted his nightmares for years.

And then everything is dark and still.

__________________________________________________

There’s music.

The melody itself is foreign to him, something soft and hopeful, but the voice singing it is as familiar as his own skin. It’s sung lullabies to him since the day he was born.

Tobias lifts his head, only to find himself in his nest with Vivi. The smaller charmander is curled up against his side, her breathing peaceful and her tail flame a steady flicker.

“It’s late, Toby,” A voice rumbles from his other side, deep and comforting.

The singing doesn’t stop, coming from somewhere out of sight, closer to the entrance of the cave.

Tobias blinks heavy eyes and looks around, relaxing at the familiar sight of their dark cave, lit only by the warm glow of three tail flames. Tobias knows the rocky walls are decorated with colorful children’s paintings, but he can only catch a glimpse of them in the low light.

Shifting to get a bit more comfortable in the nest, Tobias looks over at his Papa, curled up in his own bed with his wings tucked loosely against his back, head lifted and looking towards the entrance to the cave. The charizard is huge, but that only makes Tobias feel safer. His Papa’s a big softie anyways.

“Why’s Mama singing so late?” Tobias asks, voice hushed so he doesn’t wake Vivi. His sister can be a little monster if she’s woken up before sunrise.

“Is it keeping you up?” Papa asks, not looking at Tobias.

The charmander shakes his head. “No. I like Mama’s singing. She always sings in the morning, though.”

For a moment, Papa doesn’t answer. Then, quietly, he says, “It’s too cloudy to see the stars tonight.”

Tobias blinks up at the shadowed form of his Papa, not quite sure how that answers his question. Usually Mama and Papa say things so they make sense to him and then he can explain them to Vivi, if she’s still confused. But every once in a while they say something that he doesn’t understand.

Tobias tries to crane his head around his father to see his mother, silhouetted against the night sky, but he can’t quite manage it. After a moment he gives up and settles back down into his nest.

“So Mama’s singing…because the stars are gone?”

Papa hums a thoughtful noise, but Tobias thinks it means yes, sort of.

After a moment, Tobias asks, “Will her singing bring the stars back?”

“...No. No, it won’t.”

Tobias frowns. He doesn’t understand why Mama’s singing then, if it won’t do anything to fix the problem. He opens his mouth to ask, but Papa cuts him off.

“Go to sleep, Toby,” Papa murmurs. He unfolds a giant, warm wing to rest gently over Tobias and his sister, dimming the world even further.

Tobias huffs but lies down again, breathing in his Papa’s scent. He isn’t happy about Papa dodging his questions, but he is tired, and his Mama’s voice is the perfect sound to lull him back to sleep.

So he lets it take him under.

__________________________________________________

Tobias wakes up slowly, a cotton-like fuzz blurring his thoughts. He’s...lying in something, but it’s not his straw nest. It’s quiet, save for the soft murmur of a voice, humming the same song from his dream, but the light is bright, brighter than it ever is at dawn when he usually wakes up, in his family’s cave or in the alcove at the guild. Where is he? And why does his body hurt so much? His hands and claws especially—

The pain in his fingers makes it hard to dig, but he can’t stop, so he jams his hands deeper into the rubble and debris, ignoring sharp edges of cutting stone—

Tobias jerks, forcing his heavy eyes awake. A blanket tangles around him, and it’s too hot, too much, it’s suffocating him so he rips it off.

The humming cuts off. “Charmander, you’re fine, you’re safe, all right? Can you look at me?”

Tobias stills and stares up at the source of the voice, panting, his panicked thoughts stalling. It’s a slowbro, his expression concerned and his hands held out in a calming gesture.

Tobias finally takes stock of where he is, eyes darting around the room. It’s sunny and bright and clean, with tan wooden floors and walls, cheery green plants, and medical charts on the walls. Tobias catches sight of a familiar blue, metallic Pokemon asleep in a nearby nest, a bandage over his eye. Seiji? There are a few other Pokémon curled up in similar nests around the walls of the room, all bandaged up or smeared with poultices.

Are they at...a medical station? A hospital?

Tobias blinks down at his stinging, aching hands, bewildered to find them wrapped in a thick layer of gauze and medical tape. He can barely move his fingers, and when he tries, he hisses with pain.

“Don’t move your fingers,” The slowbro advises, voice low and soothing. “You damaged your hands quite a bit. Fractured bones and pulled claws, mostly. A few breaks. We couldn’t rely too much on healing moves with how delicate the bones are in your fingers, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to heal a bit on the slower side.”

Tobias blinks at his hands some more, and then up at the slowbro, trying to process what happened.

The pink Pokémon gives him a sympathetic look. “Having trouble remembering?”

Tobias wants to get angry at the patronizing tone, but he’s exhausted and can’t quite manage it. Instead, he flexes his claws despite the pain and tries to remember what exactly he’d done to wreck his hands. He remembers...fire. And heat. Digging? And—

Nia and Junie, buried in rubble.

Tobias bolts upright in his nest. “Nia!”

Cool, gentle hands land on Tobias’ shoulders, keeping him down. The slowbro meets his eyes with a steady expression that Tobias recognizes from his own medic training.

“Is Nia the riolu you were with?”

Tobias swallows hard and nods. “My partner. There was a rookidee with us too.”

The slowbro’s eyes soften. “Both of them are fine. The riolu was in bad shape when she came in, but she’ll recover. Would you like to see either of them?”

The worst of Tobias’ panic falls away at the reassurance. Nia’s fine. She’ll recover. Junie even made it out okay. Without the tension holding him up, he slumps, exhausted. He really wants to roll over and go back to sleep.

But instead he nods and rasps, “I wanna see Nia.” He still needs to check on her himself. Just to make sure.

The slowbro hums and releases Tobias. “You are still quite battered yourself, so move carefully. No running.” Then, the water type turns and pads out into the hallway, a beckoning hand over his shoulder.

Tobias hurries to follow, wincing at his aching cuts and bruises. Ugh, he has bandages and poultices everywhere. He didn’t even think he was that hurt.

The slowbro leads him down the hall, past one or two Pokémon who give Tobias a sympathetic smile that he dutifully ignores. When they stop in front of a door, the slowbro turns to him.

“Now, Riolu is going to be fine, but she’s still recovering. She was in bad shape when she got here. So don’t wake her, all right?”

“I was a medic,” Tobias snaps, impatient, “I know.”

The slowbro opens the door, and Tobias steps past him. This room is smaller and dimmer than the one he came from, windows covered by bamboo shades, and it’s almost silent save for soft, raspy breathing. There are only a few Pokemon in here, likely kept in the same space due to similar states of injury. Tobias catches sight of a familiar form in the low light.

Nia.

He moves forward cautiously and crouches at her side. She’s resting in a nest similar to his own, curled neatly onto her side. That’s not right. She always sleeps with her limbs thrown every which way, a ridiculous heap, like she just fell into her nest and conked out that way. This just looks...wrong.

She’s covered in bandages and shiny ointments that slick back her fur and cover burns, too. At least the blood and soot has been washed away. Her soft breaths are audible, painfully raspy and rattling in her chest. Nia and Tobias are roughly the same size, but somehow she looks too small curled up here with her fur plastered to her body.

Tobias sits back. Half of him feels soothed by seeing the riolu in one piece, alive and breathing. The other half is more uneasy than he thought he’d be. He’s never liked seeing Pokémon hurt, especially ones he knows. It’s part of the reason he was Maggie’s assistant medic for so long.

The slowbro pads up behind him, voice soft. “You two are a Seeker team, yes?”

Tobias nods. He feels the strange urge to touch Nia, just to make sure she’s actually here, but keeps his hands firmly in his lap.

“Would you like to know her condition?”

Ah, right. Seeker partners get as many patient rights as actual family members do. Tobias nods again, gaze never leaving Nia’s face as she sleeps.

The slowbro takes a step away to read the chart hanging near Nia’s nest. “Well, we healed some of her injuries, but we were limited since we couldn’t afford to exhaust her further. I don’t know if she overworked her body or if something else is at play, but she’s suffering from severe physical fatigue. Do you know if she overused her moves?”

Tobias frowns. Definitely not. Nia still can’t even use her moves, let alone to the point of harming her own body. Then again…

A flash of bright blue flickers through his memory, stark against the fiery red of the flames. It was the same color as Nia’s aura, but Tobias knows Nia wasn’t able to form anything even close to a full-body shield with her aura before yesterday.

The only other option Tobias can think of is a move he’d witnessed once before: protect.

But Nia shouldn’t have access to that kind of move, especially when she can’t even use her more basic ones. So what exactly happened? The more Tobias plays that split-second back in his mind, the more convinced he is that the riolu had indeed thrown up some sort of shield around her and Junie, regardless of the facts. There’s no other way the two of them could have survived debris of that size and weight falling onto them from that height. They should have been crushed. Killed.

Tobias swallows hard and shrugs at the slowbro still waiting for an answer. “Dunno. We were separated during the fire.”

Separated. Ha. He went running in on his own when he should’ve known his idiot partner would follow him into the flames, especially with Junie missing. Entei’s fire, he’s so stupid! He should’ve made a Seeker take her somewhere else. Or at least taken her with him. Anything else but shoving her away only to find her half-dead and buried in rubble.

He kind of hates himself right now. More than usual.

“Well,” the slowbro continues, reluctant. He must suspect Tobias knows more than he’s saying. “The exhaustion is the most worrying thing at the moment. She’s suffering from first and second-degree burns and smoke inhalation, but as long as she can rest, she should pull through without long-term complications.”

Tobias nods, still staring at Nia. Just. Making sure she’s breathing. There’s a few particularly nasty burns across her body that will probably scar, or at least leave a ruffle or two in her fur. Tobias takes a deep, calming breath.

There’s a moment of silence, and then the slowbro sighs. “Would you like to stay with her?”

Tobias finally turns to blink up at the slowbro, still a little too out of it to stay on top of the conversation.

“I’d rather you just stay here than try to sneak out of your own room later on,” the slowbro drawls, with enough exasperation that Tobias knows it’s happened before.

Tobias looks back at Nia and thinks about going back to his own nest in the other room. His comfy, spacious nest, where he can’t keep an eye on her and make sure she’s still breathing.

“I’ll stay,” he says.

The slowbro hums and waddles away. “I’ll get you some extra bedding.”

Soon enough the slowbro has helped him add another lump of soft straw and moss and blankets right beside Nia’s nest. The slowbro tells Tobias that nurses will likely be in to check on them later and to bring him food, but until then he should rest.

For once, Tobias doesn’t fight it. As soon as the slowbro is gone, Tobias pushes his nest a bit closer to Nia and curls up beside her, keeping her face in his sight. After a moment of hesitation, he flicks his tail around to curl over her wrist, so he can just barely feel her pulse under the flickering light of his tail flame.

He falls asleep like that, despite the brightness leaking into the room from the edges of the blinds and the rattling breaths of the injured Pokemon around him.

He wakes in the evening, if the dim blue light coming in through the blinds is any gauge. The creak of the door must’ve been what woke him, because quiet footsteps enter the room right after. Tobias assumes it’s the slowbro or one of the nurses and doesn’t bother looking up until he hears the newcomers speak.

“I still can’t believe this happened,” A voice whispers, sounding on the edge of tears. “So many were hurt.”

“I know. We’re looking into it—I know your troupe’s reputation. Before I let the blame fall to you, I want to make sure there wasn’t any outside interference with your show.”

Tobias recognizes those voices. Despite the pounding in his head, Tobias lifts it to squint at the visitors. It’s Keegan, the second-in-command of the Ghatha guild, and Hugo, the delphox ringleader of the magic show. Keegan’s expression is somber, and Hugo seems absolutely devastated as he looks around at the injured patients in the room.

Keegan notices Tobias first, ears pricking up as he smiles. “Tobias. Good to see you awake.”

“Wish I could say it’s good to be awake,” Tobias grumbles, shifting so he can talk to the ninetales without having to sit up entirely. He winces as the movement pulls at his injuries. “What’re you two doing here?”

“I always check in on the injured after a disaster like this,” Keegan says, his tails flicking in a nonchalant gesture. “Hugo—"

“I’m so so sorry that this happened,” Hugo cuts in, rushing over to Tobias’ side with his ears pinned back. He wrings his paws, sounding like an entirely different Pokemon from the confident, theatrical ringleader they’d seen onstage. “We’ve been doing shows for over a decade and nothing like this has ever happened before a-and I just don’t know how—”

“Breathe,” Keegan says, not unkindly.

While the delphox gasps in a breath, Tobias turns narrowed eyes onto Keegan. “You said something about interference.”

The ninetales’ carefully relaxed expression falls. “Ah. You heard that, then. While we don’t have any proof necessarily of tampering, it’s just…unheard of, for a troupe this experienced to have an accident like this. Something about it isn’t sitting right with me, so I thought I’d look into it.”

“We’re always very careful with our preparations,” Hugo says quietly, not looking at them. He sounds insistent—not as if he’s trying to lie his way out of consequences, but as if stating the facts with enough conviction will undo this entire mess. “We water any nearby foliage before the show. And we keep a psychic barrier up around the stage so our fire will never harm the audience or the surroundings. We’ve done shows at that very auditorium, w-we—”

The delphox cuts himself off, and finally looks at Tobias.

“I’m sorry that you were injured.” His eyes flick over to Nia and back. “You and your friend. Our troupe made it out relatively unscathed thanks to our psychic members but we never even thought of creating an emergency evacuation plan for something like this. If we had, maybe we could have—we could have helped more Pokemon get out sooner.”

Tobias doesn’t really know what to say in response to that, especially in his current state. Comforting platitudes have never been his thing and they certainly aren’t now, less than a day after they’d almost died.

“Why don’t you step outside for a minute?” Keegan suggests to Hugo, voice soft.

The delphox hesitates, but then nods. He gives Tobias one more apologetic bow before hurrying out of the room, on the brink of tears.

For a moment, there’s silence. Keegan sits and heaves a tired sigh, rubbing at his eyes with a paw. Eventually, he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

Tobias snorts, feeling as exhausted as the ninetales looks. “Great.”

Keegan huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “How’s Nia?”

Tobias follows his gaze and looks at the riolu still sleeping in the nest beside him, too small and too still. He watches her until he can see her chest rise and fall in a breath. “Doctor said she’ll be all right,” He finally answers.

“Good, good,” Keegan sighs. There’s another beat of silence, and then the ninetales adds, “By the way, I know this probably isn’t that important to you right now, but I thought I’d let you know so I don’t forget in all the chaos.”

Tobias frowns and returns his attention to the other fire type.

“First, I have your satchel back in my office. Nia must’ve left it in the plaza, because one of my Seekers brought it to me. I’ll bring that over in the next day or two.”

Oh. Tobias blinks. With everything that happened, he hadn’t even given their bag any thought. It just didn’t seem important at the time, but it’s good that they’ll be getting it back. They have their money in there.

“And second,” Keegan says, “I’m moving your team up from E rank to D rank.”

At that, Tobias straightens, ignoring the pull of his injuries. “What?”

“You two were thrown into a situation that, frankly, you shouldn’t have been allowed to help with yet. But after speaking with the Seekers under my care and seeing how willingly you and Nia dove into the situation, saving multiple Pokemon in the process, I’d say you’ve earned enough points from this mess to warrant a rank upgrade. So I’m bumping you up from E to D.”

Tobias just stares at Keegan, unsure of how to feel. He’d always expected that he’d be excited and triumphant when they final got enough Seeker points to advance in rank, but…this isn’t how he wanted to do it. Not by almost dying. Not by almost losing his partner.

“We aren’t in your guild,” Tobias rasps. “Can you even do that?”

Keegan laughs. “Sure can! Seeker points are universal, including guild authority over the matter. Unless you have a problem with it, I’m planning on upgrading you two when I return to the guild this evening. Arceus knows we need all of the competent Seekers we can get right now.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, instead looking down at his bandaged hands and feeling oddly detached from the whole situation. Maybe he’ll be more excited once Nia wakes up.

“How did we get out, anyways?” Tobias asks, quiet as one of the other injured Pokemon shifts in their nest. “I collapsed before we made it outside.”

Keegan nods. “Someone must have carried you out without checking in with me properly. Unfortunately, while we try to keep everything in an orderly system, sometimes in a crisis the tedium just isn’t as important as saving lives.”

Tobias nods, frowning. He…thinks he remembers seeing something right before he passed out. Was it important? He can’t remember.

“You’ll keep us in the loop about your investigation?” Tobias asks, looking back at Keegan with narrowed eyes. “I think we’ve earned the right after getting caught up in the middle of it.”

Keegan sighs. “We’ll try, but some things may have to stay classified, depending on what we find. Anything we can tell you, we will, but there’s a chance certain information could be sensitive to the investigation.”

Tobias scrunches up his nose, not quite happy with that answer but accepting that it’s probably the best he’s going to get. For now. “Fine. Thanks.”

Keegan nods, glancing at the door as Hugo starts a muted conversation out in the hallway with someone. Even through the wood, Tobias can tell the delphox is getting emotional again.

“I’d better go check on him,” Keegan says, giving Tobias another smile. “It’s good to see you and Nia will be all right. I’ll try to check back in a few days. Rest up—you did good.”

The ninetales leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him, and Tobias slowly relaxes back into his nest. There are so many things to think about—Nia’s recovery, possible suspicious activity with the fire, their rank upgrade…but he’s just too tired to deal with it right now.

Shifting closer to Nia, Tobias lets the fatigue lapping at his consciousness take him under.

When he wakes again it’s night. The room is dark, and he’s still drowsy. The air around him reeks of fresh medicinal ointments, but Tobias ignores the unpleasant scent and curls up to go back to sleep. He listens for Nia’s raspy breathing and searches for her pulse with his tail, the flame at its tip small and bright against her fur. Once he finds it, he feels relieved exhaustion pull at him almost immediately.

He’s almost back to sleep when there’s a quiet scratching at the door. He tries to bury his head in his bedding, hoping it’ll shut up and go away on its own. Unfortunately, the scratching only grows more harried, and then something pulls the door open an inch. Stops. Jolts it open an inch more. Tobias finally lifts his head, just in time to see a familiar little shape flutters in through the gap, panting hard. Junie. Tobias can’t help feeling relieved to see her alive, even if she is insufferable.

The rookidee struggles to close the door again behind her, pushing it closed with her entire body. She heaves a relieved sigh and turns, immediately catching sight of Tobias’s tail flame.

“Toby!” She chirps, all quiet excitement. There are a few shiny smears of healing ointment spread over her feathers and burns, and a bandage around her head, but she seems to be moving around okay. She flits over to where he and Nia are, landing in an awkward position with her little leg—encased in a cast—held stiffly to the side. Definitely broken.

“You’re both okay?” Junie whispers, voice hoarse from the smoke. Her ruby eyes skim Tobias’ bandaged hands before looking at Nia. “What about Nia?”

“They said she’ll be fine,” Tobias rasps, lying his head down again. “She’s got some burns and bruises, some smoke inhalation, but otherwise her body’s just exhausted.”

Junie chirps a quiet, relieved noise, and then falls into a coughing fit. Tobias feels his eyes slip closed. He’s still so tired.

When the coughing quiets, Junie speaks up again, hesitant. “Um. I know you’re trying to sleep, but I wanted to say thank you before I lose my nerve.”

Tobias opens his eyes again, looking irritably at Junie. “What?”

“Thank you,” the rookidee repeats, looking away with clear embarrassment. “For saving me.”

Tobias snorts. “I didn’t save you. Nia did.”

Junie meets his eyes with a furrowed brow. “You both did. You dug me out, right? A-And you tried to carry us to safety. Even though all I do is pick on you, you…didn’t leave me.”

Tobias can sense a whole mushy conversation behind that last point and sidesteps it by drawling, “Don’t mention it.”

Junie doesn’t push the point, thankfully, and instead hops closer to Nia’s head, fluffing out her feathers before settling down in the riolu’s nest herself. Tobias doesn’t have it in him to argue about that—Junie’s one more set of eyes that can make sure Nia doesn’t suddenly die on him.

But first…

Tobias lifts his head, ignoring how it feels heavier than a gigalith. He needs to know. “Did you see what happened right before the ceiling caved in?”

Junie stills from where she’s preening through her feathers. “...Oh. Did you see it too? That blue energy?”

Tobias sighs, relieved he’s not the only one who saw the impossible. “It looked like a move called protect, but there’s no way Nia should know how to use it. She doesn’t even know how to use regular moves.”

Junie’s staring at him now in the near darkness. “It looked like...wasn’t it the same color as—“

“Her aura.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them are silent for a moment, listening to Nia’s soft, raspy breaths between them.

“Whatever it was, it saved us, didn’t it?” Junie asks, a tremor in her voice.

Tobias doesn’t bother to sugarcoat it, finally resting his head down again. “Yeah. There’s no way you would have survived otherwise.”

Junie shudders and burrows closer to Nia, not quite touching but probably close enough to feel the riolu’s body heat. “Well, then whatever it was I’m glad it happened.”

Tobias’ tail curls tighter around Nia’s wrist, and if he shifts a bit closer to her, then Junie doesn’t call him out on it.

As much as he doesn’t want to, Tobias can’t help thinking about what would have happened had that last-second protection not popped up. Nia would probably be dead. Gone. He’d be in an empty nest with the guilt of another lost life on his shoulders. Two, actually. Maggie would be devastated. Andyn and Xander would never forgive him, not that he’d ask them to. He’d never forgive himself, either. Azami and Val and August would be so disappointed in him, failing to protect his partner.

And he’d be alone again.

Nia’s the closest thing he has to a friend, nowadays.

Tobias pushes that thought down. They’re not friends, even if he knows some part of him would miss Nia’s stupidly bright smiles and the increasingly easy way they move together on the battlefield. Her lighthearted chatter and naive optimism, how stupidly kind she is to everyone—even him.

Tobias doesn’t like to think about it, but losing his family all those years ago nearly broke him. He’s not sure he could handle another loss when he’s not even over the first one.

Nia snuffles a quiet, pained noise in her sleep, and Tobias takes solace in the sound. She’s hurt, but she’s alive. And for now, that’s more than enough.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #charmander #riolu #rookidee #pmd seekers of soul #fire tw #fire #tesha draws #tesha writes

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goblinspumpkinpie · 2 years

Text

How To Find a Cure

Chapter 1

As Harry’s health rapidly plummets, and with no cure in sight, Norman becomes increasingly desperate to save his son's life.

Words: 2.4K+

Characters: Norman Osborn (Spider-Man PS4), Curt Connors (SM-PS4)

This fanfic is based off of one of @andys-muses posts:

Honestly I wanna see a Norman Osborn who’s just so offended that his variants have treated their kids like shit.

Give me Norman “dad who’s trying his best” Osborn who just takes in his alternate kiddos as his own, presenting Harry with a bunch of new siblings

Major warnings: Animal death, mention of death, graphic descriptions, seizure, needles, Norman being an asshole, slow burn story

Hello, everyone! This is the first Marvel fanfic I've written in nearly 8 years, and the first I've put on Tumblr Thanks NWH for bringing me back into the fandom, and Spider-Man PS4 and Miles Morales for making Earth-1048 Norman Osborn my absolute favorite. Feels good to be back in the fandom!

A few things to mention:

1. This first chapter is pretty dark. While other chapters are likely to be a bit lighter, I wanted to start it off dark as a warning for what’s going to come ahead. If this isn’t your type of story, please feel free to drop or leave it at any time.

2. This is a slow burn multichapter story, so you won't get to see some Harry action until a little later.

3. My science is likely MCU level accurate and not SM PS4 accurate. So don’t learn too much science from this fic.

4. This story will also be cross-posted to Ao3 with a slightly different chapter layout, since it’s easier for Ao3 to handle a longer chapter than Tumblr.

5. Big shoutout to @softimaginescity for supporting me through the writing process! Thanks to you, I might actually finish a fanfic someday XD

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Shivers crawled up the little mouse's spine, the tiny nose quivering at the crisp air. One pink foot glided forward ever so slowly, followed by the next, and the next, until the little mouse began to crawl. Yet still, despite how methodical or desperate its moves became, it couldn't outrun the looming shadow above. Darkness seized the mouse's sides, squeezing it until every fibre in its body caved in upon itself. What wasn’t crushed soon burned inside its belly as flames tore away at the remains. The mouse wheezed. It collapsed upon the table, one more gasp accenting a cry for help from the human. Only then did its eyes still, unblinking.

Mouse no. 48. The last one of the pack tested with chemical formula GR-27. Unlike its predecessors, the substance entered its system through oral ingestion rather than skin diffusion, nasal intake, or injection. And unlike its predecessors, it had died the fastest. Even if its human handler did have the means to save the mouse, it wouldn't have been quick enough. The gruesome death unfolded within seconds after the first symptoms. And all Norman Osborn could do was watch with paralyzed horror.

A gentle hand rested upon his shoulder, but its intended comfort meant little to his shattered mind. At most, it took his attention away from the gruesome scene. "I'm sorry, Mr. Osborn."

"Sorry?” Norman turned to the scientist, watching the other squirm under his cold gaze. “You said you fixed it.”

“The formula didn’t have time to properly settle, it wasn’t ready—”

“Excuses won’t get you anywhere, Connors." Curt Connors quieted immediately, and Norman returned to studying the mouse. He'd have the creature undergo an autopsy later, but he doubted he'd learn anything new from it. The previous 47 mice all revealed decayed insides, some of their insides still shrivelling up during their operation. Had this been ideal circumstances, the chemical would eliminate any genetic imperfections alluding to onset disorders within each specimen. Or at least reduce the disorder's symptoms to a tolerable and manageable level. Instead, GR-27 slashed at the insides of every subject before it could heal them. It didn't matter how many modifications the drug underwent. The result remained the same since its invention in the 1980s.

Any sane person would have given up long ago.

Once upon a time, he was sane.

But that was before he watched the love of his life decay in irreversible slow motion before his eyes. Emily told him not to worry, but he never listened. He knew loneliness. He had experienced it when his parents died, and he didn't want to go through it again. For the second time, GR-27 promised an answer to the otherwise incurable Oshtoran Syndrome. Yet it was hardly more than a scrapbook of research thrown together desperately on the day she died. And it was barely more than a single page of known information the day Harry was diagnosed with the same disease eight years later.

Which was why Curt's pessimism aggravated him so much. "If you did your job right, we could have had a breakthrough already, Connors."

“Mr. Osborn, I know he's your son, but we’ve tried everything. Chemotherapy, gene therapy, aggressive medication, nanotechnology. You've reached out to research groups across the world, and none of them can refine a treatment in time for Harry."

"So we keep testing GR-27."

"I understand you want to try a unique method of utilizing CRISPR, but why are we reinventing the wheel? Why can't we modify CRISPR/Cas12a?"

"We tried that, too. The current system doesn't fix DNA, it deactivates or destroys it."

"Why can't we bring him to a hospital? They can give him proper care, with legal equipment—"

"The hospital didn't save Emily!" A mild headache settled along his brow, reigning back his frustration until only helplessness laced his words. "It won't save Harry."

No more words passed between the two as they sterilized the lab, Norman scanning their way out of the lab with his ID keycard. Exhaustion must have shown through his features, for the doctor's eyes trailed Norman's face as they walked up the stairs. Norman didn't have to guess too long, for a few seconds later, Curt confirmed his suspicions.

"You should get more rest."

"Sleep can wait. Finding a cure for Harry is my first priority." Norman reminded. "You of all people should know what that feels like when your only son's haunted by death."

"But I also know the other side of the story," Curt said. "If you don't take care of yourself, Harry might not have a father to wake up to. You can't do this all on your own. We need more than two people to know about this.”

“You and I are enough to care for him.”

"You're delusional, Norman."

"And you're fired, Connors."

Curt stopped in the middle of the stairs. "Norman, wait—"

"I won't have this type of incompetence anywhere in my organization. Especially when handling my son."

Curt opened his mouth to rebuttal, then decided against it. "Yes, Mr. Osborn." Bitterness laced his tone.

A bitterness Norman chose to match in his own words. "You have until tonight to take whatever copies of research you wish to."

The words hardly left his lips before a tiny beeping upon both men's watches interrupted them. A sound that changed Norman's anger into fear and exhaustion into fuel.

He skipped his way up the last of the stairs, only realizing Curt wasn't beside him when he reached the top. The man remained in the middle of the stairs where they last stood. "Connors, what are you doing?"

"You fired me."

"God fucking—you can sign the reemployment papers later." And that was all Curt needed to join Norman as they headed to the main floor of the penthouse. By no means was the penthouse complicated in navigation, but the few winding halls encouraged Curt to stay close to Norman until they reached the Osborn boys family portrait. A panel to the side activated the entrance to a hidden lab room behind. A room so dark each step risked tripping over a misplaced item.

Yet neither needed to turn on a light. Mechanically hinged panels retracted down the length of a giant chamber at the back of the room, giving way to a green, luminescent liquid inside. The light splayed across the room with such vigor no object could hide in the shadows. The only obstruction to the light was from inside the chamber. A single figure hung from the support that kept him buoyant. Seizing and crying for help along with the watches.

No work of fiction could ever scare Norman as much as the twitching frayed body of his son within the liquid. The nanotechnology coils meant to work in symbiosis with maintaining Harry’s body now flopped about, struggling to hold his limbs in place. Occasionally, its grip slipped, the younger Osborn sending it wiggling through the water or banging against the side of the chamber. Harry’s seizures already horrified Norman when he wasn't under experimental treatment. But in the aqueous setting, a new layer of helplessness stung at Norman's eyes until it blurred his vision.

"Norman, check his vitals,” Curt called as he scribbled in a notebook documenting Harry's hearth.

The doctor's voice grounded Norman back to reality. His fingers flicked upon the tablet connected to the tank, revealing the many variables the symbiote kept track of. He expected to see the vitals at varying levels, so when every single one appeared within normal range, Norman's anxiety worsened.

"Alkalosis," A soft, feminine voice in his head told him. He had no idea where it came from—nor did he appreciate the cold shudder running up his spine—but he couldn't question it now. Not when the blood pH did, in fact, read 7.46.

"Alkalosis by a hundredth," Norman repeated aloud to Curt.

"What's your call?"

Short answer, fix Harry. The longer answer required Norman to waste precious seconds to watch chemical simulations in his head. Each simulation revealed the various reactions to different chemical balances Harry may undergo, Norman scrapping any ideas that turned for the worst. Those that did work competed with one another until his mind settled on one concrete answer.

"200mg of symbiote with 500µL hydrochloric acid. Injection just distal of the lister tubercle. Connors, get the symbiote to raise him. I'll make it."

Curt wrote the formula in the notebook then climbed the ladder along the chamber to open the top. He drop a small Remote Operated Vehicle into the acid. The ROV's electric prongs chased the symbiote around, forcing it to raise Harry towards the surface. Meanwhile, Norman fetched the case of symbiote nanotechnology and put the allotted amount in a vial. He poured hydrochloric acid droplets atop the symbiote, then vortexed the vial before drawing the solution into a syringe.

The two switched spots, Norman removing his watch and donning an electrical-insulating gloves. Curt adjusted Harry’s position one last time with the ROV and shocking the symbiote to make it stiffen, Harry pinned in place by one hand. The doctor hovering his hand over a button that would electrocute the entire chamber should the symbiote get out of control. "Ready?"

"Ready."

It didn’t take much to realize Harry was too far down for Norman to easily reach. Curt made a move to reach for the ROV’s controls, but Norman had other ideas. Besides, a few chemical burns were survivable. Or so Norman figured as he thrust one hand through the acid to grab Harry, twisting the younger Osborn's arm until the wrist was in sight. He injected the formula before letting Harry go. Norman shut the chamber top and Curt lowered his hand from the button.

Almost instantly, Harry's twitching slowed as the new symbiote thread through his body, distributing the hydrochloric acid. Relief drew a sigh to Norman's lips as he returned to the ground.

Curt, however, didn't share the same joy. Disapproval has taken over his face once more as he yanked the syringe from Norman's hand once the older was on the ground. "It's a wonder how you're still alive sometimes."

"Says the man who turned himself into a lizard," Norman retorted as he put his arm under a drizzle of cool water. The water only aggravated the pain, hinting the chemical burn could be worse than he predicted.

"And if you lose your arm to the acid, I'll be turning you into a lizard too." Curt took off his gloves and tossed them out before checking the tablet. "Blood pH is 7.43. His fingers are still twitching but it's not life threatening."

"Good."

Now that things were back to calm, Norman willingly eased his mind until fear had him in its grasp. His eyes scanned over the tank with careful scrutiny. Afraid to tear his gaze away from it. As though this could be the last time he would see Harry alive. Optimism only carried him so far, yet it could never deny the truth: at most, Harry had a month left to live. Maybe less.

Norman scoffed at the thought and took his arm out from under the water against Curt's precautions to continue to irrigate it. In the green light, the damage didn't look bad, and he used the dimness to hide the severity as he fetched the first aid kit and dressed the burn. He tucked the bandage under the sleeve of his dress shirt so Curt couldn’t see it.

Harry's fingers stopped moving, but the silence wasn't comforting. The sight still churned Norman's stomach as his headache continued to flare. Though from his own insufficient efforts or remnants from his yelling, Norman couldn't name.

"Clean up here," he instructed. "I'm going to get some air." With a final glance towards Harry, Norman exited the lab.

Now standing in the living room of the penthouse, Norman’s eyes fell upon one of the many bookshelves tucked along the penthouse walls. This particular one held books from Harry's youth, the most prominent collection being books about Morse Code and American Sign Language leftover from Harry’s fascination with the two as a kid.

But the books weren't what caught his attention. Rather, it was the single picture in the middle shelf. Drab color and slight sun bleach tainted the picture in an older light, the photo’s date reading 1994 in the corner. And yet it never took away Emily’s beauty as she held her newborn son. Norman still lost himself staring into her eyes. Sometimes he’d still feel her resting her head upon his shoulder. If he voided his mind of any thought, he could hear her voice.

But today he only saw the photo. No ghostly feeling nor voice to accompany it. Emily may be smiling, yet a single tear threatened to fall down her cheek, her gaze wordless and begging. Begging for him to save their only child, even if it meant reaching across the multiverse to do so. How, she wouldn't say. How could she say, when the world she knew was already outdated?

The distant feminine voice that drew shudders along his spine presented itself again.

"You're failing him."

A stalker, Norman reasoned, and one he planned to confront when alone. Probably another creepy paparazzi that somehow snuck their way into the penthouse. He’d have his assistant Lucille chase them out in a few minutes.

"You okay?"

Curt's footsteps didn't reach his ears, but his presence was enough for Norman to know who stopped next to him before the scientist spoke. The same presence that once assured him of Harry's survival suddenly irked the older. So much so, he instructed the scientist, “Go home for the day."

Curt frowned. "Go home? There's still a few hours before the sunset—"

"You heard me the first time." For once his tone remained collected. "Pick Billy up from school. Take Martha out to eat. Just get out."

"Do you want me to sign those re-employment papers—"

"You were never fired."

"Right. That makes sense." Curt still didn't leave immediately, opting to throw one more option for a solution. "Tomorrow I'll contact Dr. Michaels. Maybe his research of the antiserum found something."

"Fine. But only in person. I don't trust the phone."

“Okay.” Curt gave a tight smile, suddenly forgetting the dozens of times he doubted Norman's words throughout the day as he said, "It's just a minor setback. We'll find another way."

Norman scoffed and chased Curt off. The scientist spoke as though he understood everything. As though their shared experience of their families under extreme circumstances could bridge the gap between them. It was an effort, Norman gave him that. It was genuine. It was an effort to lighten the conversation.

The only problem was that Curt's little family of three survived.

Norman’s didn’t. And likely wouldn’t.

#Norman Osborn #Spiderman #spiderman ps4 #how to find a cure fic

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attllhak · 3 years

Text

So I just got settled after getting home from camping, and I had forgotten that I hadn’t posted this before I left. I remembered in the middle of the weekend and felt bad, but I ended up not having time the morning I left. So have it now, since I did promise it!

Also, @tortilla-of-courage I promised to tag you in all the merAU stuff I posted, and so I’m tagging you. We now figure out what happened to Warriors.

--------------------

“Is he alive?”

“Yeah, you can see him breathing,”

“What is he even doing here?”

“I don’t know, I just found him,”

“We should tell Grandma,”

“Obviously, but we can’t leave him either,”

“Oh, I can go tell her, and you can watch him!”

“Oh that’s a good idea!”

“Okay, I’m gonna, hey! He’s waking up!”

“Huh?”

Warriors squeezed his eyes and blinked, squinting at the sun above him.

A pair of round faces appeared over him. Kids, probably.

He groaned, reaching a hand up to his head. He tried to remember what had happened.

He’d been with his pod, and a ship came by. Poachers. They singled him out, and their captain had him fished out of the water. The rest of his pod tried to help, but the poachers had guns and harpoons. He had seen at least one of his pod mates impaled by one of the harpoons through their tail.

His pod had no choice but to flee.

He remembered sitting in a net for hours under the sun until he’d dried and his scales began to flake.

Eventually he was swung onto the deck and dropped there. He had managed to pull himself onto shaking arms when his face had been wretched up, sharp nails digging into his cheeks.

He immediately felt sick when the woman, the captain of the ship, looked at him. It felt like he was being examined, like some kind of object on display. He felt oddly exposed under her gaze.

It was only years of training as a guard for his pod that allowed him to keep from panicking.

“Oh aren’t you pretty,” the human purred, and Warriors struggled to swallow. “You’ll look so pretty in my home,”

I’m going to die, he had thought.

Her plan for him was worse.

This woman, Cia, wanted a pet. Some pretty mer she could dress up in fancy things and put on display for all her guests to awe at.

He learned this after he was shackled to the deck with a thick chain attached to a cuff on his arm. Occasionally someone would be by to dump a bucket of water on him, but only after another woman, who looked very similar to the captain, warned that he’d be dead by the time they got to shore if they didn’t.

By the time the sun finally set, he’d been laid out flat on the polished wood, his skin and scales burned from the sunlight and lack of water, feeling dizzy and unfocused.

Sun sickness, he’d heard some of the merrow in their pod talk about it. He never thought he’d have it.

Once the sun had well set, the woman who had told them he needed water returned with keys.

Had he been stronger, he would have tried to fight her off. As it stood, all he could manage was to bare sharp teeth at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize she’d be so cruel. I’m going to report her when we dock, but the authorities don’t release poached mer. So I’m getting you out tonight,”

He watched as she undid the shackle on his arm, and he dragged it slowly back to himself, trying to comprehend that.

He hissed and squirmed when she started dragging him, his burned skin and scales awake with pain as they ran over the unforgiving surface.

They got caught by one of the other poachers, and he and the woman argued and shouted. The poacher had some kind of fire, and didn’t hesitate to attack them.

He was thrown overboard, but the fire still hit his arm. He screamed, the first sound since he was brought aboard, and fell.

The cold water was a shock to his sun burned body, and he was out in an instant.

Well, the sun sickness explained his headache. And why his body was aching.

“Who,” he tried to croak, but his throat felt like it was lined with coral and filled with sand, and speaking hurt.

He went to move his hand to it, but cried out in further pain as the fire burns shifted on the sand. He squeezed his eyes shut to beat back tears, all but whimpering in pain.

“Go get Grandma! Now!” One of the kids, the boy, shouted, and he heard a splash as the girl left.

He was on a shore, not land, since he could now feel the water lapping at his tail. He moved his right hand over his body, reaching for where his left arm stung and stabbed with pain.

“Hey! Don’t do that!” Small hands grabbed his wrist and he opened his eyes again, blinking to see around tears at the boy leaning over him. “Don’t worry, help will be here soon,”

He decided to believe that, focusing on the boy’s face to try and distract himself from the pain.

The boy was young, maybe twelve or thirteen. Big, bright blue eyes, and sun bleached blonde hair. The boy was grinning, but visibly nervous.

‘Who are you?’ He flashed, not wanting to deal with his damaged throat.

“Me?” The boy blinked. “My name is Link! Do you have a name?”

Warriors smiled. ‘My name is also Link, but I’m not the only Link in my pod. They called me Warriors,’

“That’s such a cool name!” Link grinned.

Warriors smiled.

It took too long, as far as he was concerned, for help to arrive. Wind, Link’s new nickname since he wanted a cool name too, had done his best to keep Warriors distracted, when a very old mer climbed onto the beach next to them.

She hissed when she pressed a hand to his head, and Warriors found himself following her hand when it pulled away, chasing the cool wetness with a weak whine.

“Sun sickness,” she pronounced in an old, creaking voice. “And some very bad burning. He needs medical help,”

She slipped back into the water and the young girl replaced her.

Not long after he found himself gently, but no less painfully, picked up by a pair of merrow and transported back into the water.

He couldn’t help the whimper of relief as he felt the water around his body again, and did his best to bite back any cries of pain as they washed the sand from his body and burns. His spaulder was removed so they could treat his injuries, but he was promised its return.

He was far too gone to care about his property anymore, gripping the arm of one of the merrow supporting him with his good hand and pressing his head to their soft, cool skin.

They helped him down into the water, and set him up in an underwater cave where the sun couldn’t reach him. It was cool, and dark, and Warriors almost instantly curled up and passed out again.

He was in and out of consciousness for the next few days, hiding curled up in the coldest corner of his cave and letting healers come in and out to treat his burns. His skin peeled and scales flaked due to the sunburns, and they rubbed cooling salves into the burns. They treated the burn on his arm with even more care.

When he finally properly came to, he spent a long moment sitting in his cave and looking himself over.

His left arm had been pretty badly scarred, and the fin was frayed and damaged, but hadn’t been cut short. That surprised him a bit, he knew a few people whose fins were so badly damaged that it was better for their health to cut them shorter and he would have figured that had happened. Maybe this pod didn’t do fin cuttings for some reason?

The rest of his burns had healed well, and his throat didn’t feel like hurting him anymore.

He looked up when a mer snuck in, and he smiled when he saw Wind.

‘Hi, Wind,’ he waved, smiling.

This was when he noticed Wind’s fins were much smaller than his, and his scale pattern was different.

Wind was a coastal mer.

That explained the lack of fin cutting.

‘Are you feeling better?’ Wind asked, giving up all form of secrecy as he approached and plopped down right next to Warriors. He guessed Wind wasn’t supposed to be here.

Warriors shrugged. ‘More aware than I was before,’

‘That’s good!’ Wind grinned. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t fix your fin,’

Warriors lifted his arm, frowning at the damaged fin. ‘You tried to fix it?’

‘Yeah?’ Wind tilted his head, equally confused. ‘Why? What did you expect us to do?’

‘Cut it back,’ he answered honestly. ‘It’s too damaged to save, so back in my pod we would have just cut back the fin and got rid of the damaged parts,’

Wind looked horrified. ‘Why would you do that?!’

Warriors blinked back, not sure what was so bad about what he said.

‘We have very big fins,’ he tried to explain. ‘Dragging around damaged fins can be really annoying, and sometimes detrimental to your health. So anything we can’t heal, we usually cut back,’

Warriors and Wind shared a long look.

They agreed not to talk about it anymore.

‘What happened to you?’ Wind asked instead. ‘Aryll and I found you on the beach and you were really out of it. Gran said you might not remember that,’

‘I do remember that,’ Warriors smiled. ‘Thank you for that, by the way. You didn’t have to help me, but I’m grateful that you did,’

Wind shook his head. ‘Of course I had to help you! You needed help!’

Warriors ruffled Wind’s hair, laughing at the squawk Wind made. ‘You’re a good person, Wind,’

Wind huffed, fixing his hair. ‘So, what did happen to you? We don’t get a lot of tropical mer around here,’

Warriors frowned. Just how far was he from his pod?

‘I, uh, I didn’t leave my pod willingly,’ he didn’t want to scare Wind at all, considering he didn’t know if poachers frequented this area or not.

‘You were kidnapped,’ Wind nodded.

Sure, they could say that.

‘Something like that, yes,’ Warriors nodded. ‘I was on a ship for a while, and the humans weren’t very good at keeping me hydrated. One of them took pity on me, and dumped me over the side once the sun set. I, don’t remember anything after that, until you and your sister found me on the beach,’

Wind reached out and, after a second of hesitation, wrapped his arms around Warriors in a hug. ‘I’m sorry. Usually the bad humans don’t come here,’

Warriors startled a bit, he didn’t usually get hugs from people, but he carefully set his arms down around Wind in turn, not even trying to fight the soft smile on his face.

He liked this kid, he thought.

Wind was chased out by healers not long after, apparently he’d been slipping in and making a nuisance of himself since Warriors arrived, and they looked him over and asked more questions.

After a while, the healers left and the very old mer from earlier returned. Her blue scales had been dulled by age, and her grey hair was pulled up in a bun. She squinted at him through the wrinkles in her face, and he instinctively straightened up. This woman was the matriarch of her pod.

‘My grandson told me you were aware,’ she flashed at him.

He nodded, trying his best to be polite.

‘He also told me you were kidnapped,’ she continued. ‘By humans,’

‘Poachers,’ he confirmed. ‘I got lucky,’

She nodded. ‘Do you know how far you traveled?’

‘I don’t,’ he shook his head, and looked down to his hands. ‘I don’t even know how long I’ve been away from my pod,’

‘A while at least,’ she said once he looked up again. ‘You’ve been out of it for a few days here, and we don’t know when you washed up on the beach. Not to mention that there aren’t any tropical mer pods nearby,’

Warriors nodded, looking down again.

He was probably very far from his pod, and it would take a long, long time to find them again. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of heading out into the open ocean with no direction either. Who knows how far he’d traveled. Who knows how far he’d travel in order to find his pod again. If he found his pod again. He might never get back to them.

He looked up when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

‘Don’t look so defeated,’ the old mer smiled at him. ‘We’ll help you get back to your pod. And until we find them, you can stay with us,’

Warriors looked at her, kind and helpful and comforting, and smiled back. He nodded.

He could do that.

(---)

Warriors got his spaulder back, and was quickly sussed out by this pod’s, very lacking, guard, and ended up employed. Mostly he was just retraining them, since they needed some help.

He liked having a spear in his hands again. It was a relief to be able to have a weapon.

Wind and Aryll had both attached themselves to him as well, and after a week they were introducing him as their very pretty big brother. Wind had even managed to convince Warriors to teach him how to fight.

Some days Warriors didn’t even mind that he might never get back to his original pod.

He did learn that Wind happened to be friends with a human pirate, however, and that stressed him out immensely.

Maybe he should talk to that therapist Gran had suggested he see. He hadn’t had issues with his podmates speaking to the marine researchers before he was poached.

But, pirates.

It never hurt to be cautious.

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neverlandnewyear · 2 years

Text

CSNLNY GTKY Welcome Hollyethecurious

What is your Ao3/Tumblr username?

HollyeLeigh/hollyethecurious

How long have you been writing or arting? When did you start creating for CS?

I wrote in my youth, then took a 20+ year break. CS got me writing again, and I've been doing so for about five years.

Can we have a little sneak peek or synopsis of your story? Pretty please?

I'll be posting the second chapter of the fic (Unwilling to Repeat) I submitted for last year's (this year's?) event, but with the renewed commitment to not leave it for another year, lol. With luck and the muse's cooperation, I'll be updating regularly after this chapter drops. Please accept this sneak peek as an apology for making y'all wait so long... Time passed with little consequence those first few decades, though Hook had to find a way to measure its advancement early on when the Neverland nights became eternal, and daylight no longer crested the horizon. He’d asked Pan about the anomaly when it had first occurred, but the boy had waved off his concern and provided him with an enchanted hourglass that would count down the sands of time towards the expiration of their agreement, as well as a watch that would help distinguish between ‘night’ and ‘day’. “Remember our deal, Captain? You concern yourself with your ship and your crew, and I’ll keep my concerns focused on the island and my lost boys.” Each remained master over their own domains. That had been one of the first provisions established in the fine print. Hook had made it clear their deal did not extend to his crew. Should they choose to leave the Jolly Roger, it would be Hook’s decision on whether or not to release them from service. Likewise, he agreed to not interfere with Pan’s rule over the lost boys. Other stipulations included an equitable split of profits and provisions Hook and his crew retrieved for Pan. As well as an understanding of the areas within the island that the pirates should be wary of and avoid at all costs - locations such as the grove where the pixie flowers grew, which was guarded by a warrior, and a place called Echo Cave, where it was rumored Pan kept his treasures. Hook had learned the hard way to stay clear of the Dark Jungle and its many dangers which led Pan to give them an area all their own without lost boy’s or the mermaid’s interference - Pirate’s Cove. There were other rules, of course. Pan did so love his rules. Nothing and no one could leave the island without Pan’s consent. Skull Rock was deemed out of bounds for the pirates, including their captain, without Pan’s express invitation, just as Neverland’s inhabitants, including Pan, were not allowed aboard the Jolly Roger without her captain’s permission (a stipulation Hook made sure would be honored when he’d sought out an enchantress during one of his earlier ‘errands’ and had her place wards over his ship to ensure the demon boy could not come aboard unless invited). The ship could only leave Neverland to do Pan’s bidding at night and had to return before dawn; that frame of reference dictated by the realms they were to visit, as Neverland no longer had a dawn. Still, Pan was always adamant that they return before a realm’s sun could caress the Jolly Roger’s sails, and Hook had never had a reason to disobey such an order. Or any of his orders for that matter. Until Tiger Lily and Ursula, that is.

We’re so excited you decided to join @hollyethecurious!

#csnlny22 #hollyethecurious #gtky #captain swan

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mayrubyy · 3 years

Text

Clouded III

➻ Pairing- Chanyeol x Reader ➻ Genre - Angst + Fwb!

➻ Word Count - 3.7k

➻ Rating - (M) Warning! this contains strong language, fwb, sexual and angst themes that are intended for mature audiences. Please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with the said themes and if you’re under 18!

A/N - hey guys, so.. it is time to say goodbye and i was always full of hope and love for this series. sadly, it won’t see the light of day like i hoped for but in all it’s unfinished, glory, i present to you ~ Chapter III of Clouded.

This is my last post. So, farewell.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

. ･｡ × fragments=͟͟͞͞evanescent-lucid͟͟-transcending × ｡･ .

Wayfaring aimlessly, you were drenched from head to toe and your senses were heavily distorted. The icy pellets of rain were unrelenting, not gentle in the slightest as they slapped against your skin. Streaks of lightning pierced through the forlorn sky in iridescent veins of electric and purple.The wind kept howling around you, the violent rainstorm having no mercy as it obscured your vision. Cars were zooming by at full speed, splashing puddles on to the pavement in their wake and when thunder roared above you, it sparked some kind of urgency in you as if the universe was telling you to take that one step forward, one step closer to starting a new chapter of your life– only you couldn't fathom that by doing so you were inviting trouble.

All you could think of was Chanyeol and you found yourself knocking at his door, in the dead of the night.

Moreover, being completely soaked to the bone and nearly shivering to death wasn't fun. A mild wave of panic coursed through your body when you realized he wasn't answering the door. You rang the bell a few more times, begging, hoping and praying he was home.

But, it was all drearily for nothing.

Just when you were about to give up, you heard him shuffle. His footsteps thundered across the hallway and with a hasty turn of the knob, the door was ineptly flung open. The light fixtures in the foyer did little to illuminate his features, flickering about as they swathed his tall form in subtle hues of orange and gold. Chanyeol stood before you like a tower, silhouetting the buttery glow of his apartment and for a fleeting second, you couldn't decipher anything. Your mind was swirling in a heart stopping haze, his cologne dominating your senses as you stood there, wavering under his gaze. He rubbed his own bleary eyes, looking dazed and spaced out in the soft light, hair a complete mess, perhaps from wearing headphones. His breathing was erratic, chest tight against his shirt as it rose and fell, elucidating he had dashed all the way to get the door. To get to you.

"Y/N?" He faltered, gaping at you with furrowed brows. "Wh-what are you doing here?" He asked you, dipping slightly to look at the expensive watch that adorned his wrist. "It's like one in the morning," ruffling the crimson locks away from his face, he tilted his head to the side like a lost pup and an awkward wave of silence crept between you two. The frigid air was stinging and your damp shirt was unpleasantly clinging to your body, the dewiness itching and nibbling away at your skin. Quivering in your bones, you wrapped your soaked arms around yourself and stuttered through chattering teeth.

"Ch-Chanyeol… I'm c-cold."

"Fuck– my bad." He shuffled from one feet to the other before cautiously leaning towards you. "Here, let me–," then carefully draping his arm over your shoulder, he lead you inside, the warmth of his body effectively engulfing you as he did. The minute you set foot in his apartment, you were taken aback by how huge and spacious it was. And oddly enough, it was welcoming and cozy– just like him.

It wasn't an ordinary apartment at all. It was rather luxurious for an undergrad and you could say you were mildly shook. You caught a whiff of coffee coming from his kitchen and some beats blaring through the headphones that sat tacitly on the counter. He was after all, much to your relief at home and completely immersed in music. That's why he couldn't hear you ring the bell or knock the door. He clumsily hooked his leg around the scaffold of the stool and dragged it closer to the island. Gently squeezing your shoulder, he ushered you to sit and after you quietly perched yourself down on the stool you looked up at him. His gorgeous pair of eyes sparkled as they met yours and deep in your heart, you felt relieved for having someone like him to rely on. A shoulder you could lean and cry on.

"You, alright?" he asked you, concern swirling in his dark orbs. You kept your head low and nodded while he paced towards the coffee-maker and quickly grabbed a mug from the cupboard. He poured the hot liquid into it and scampered back to you. "You might want to have some. It'll help you warm up." He mumbled, voice deep and soothing to your ears. His fingers brushed softly against yours as you took the mug from him. "You probably need a warm bath too. I'll be right back." And with that he hurried away again, disappearing into the bedroom this time. He seemed anxious and quite restless like he didn't want to linger around you.

You began to fret you were bothering him for turning up unannounced and so out of the blue like this. For a good moment you were contemplating whether to leave again. The door was right there, maybe you should...but your limbs had failed you. Your joints were beginning to ache and there was a sharp pain seeping through your nerves from the cold. Feeling defeated and worn out, you winced as you brought the rim of the mug to your lips and sipped quietly. The warmth from the coffee slowly began spreading down your throat and into your empty belly.

Your eyes flickered around the apartment as you placed the mug back down on the counter. A huge shelf made of glass had intrigued you. It was filled with action figures, a collection of sorts, of Chanyeol's favorite manga and anime characters. There was a record player sitting by the same shelf which had a robust and vintage feel to it. And, a glass door beside it leading further into something that looked like a mini studio, with guitars racked neatly in a corner and some dreamcatchers celestially hooked to the wall above them. The other end was adorned with the One Piece flag hanging on the wall which confirmed his addiction to all things Japanese. It was adorable. You squinted through the glass door again and found a desktop– an iMac sitting right in between the space with acoustic diffusers surrounding it. You could tell Chanyeol was very passionate about music. You had once heard him play the guitar at a local club on a weekend but you didn't know he had a whole studio in his exquisite apartment like this.

Your bestfriend Kyungsoo had told you that Chanyeol was from an affluent family. He was in the Basketball team along with your boyfriend Taehyung. Highly competitive and charming to a fault, musically talented and really tall, kinda clumsy with a goofy grin and big fluffy ears– that was all you really knew about him.

It was at a party after a match that Baekhyun had introduced you to each other. And, all you could vaguely remember was playing beer pong and getting drunk out of your mind. Taehyung had abandoned you in the middle of the party and the next day, you found yourself waking up on top of Chanyeol. It sure as hell was fucking awkward, you recall. Although, he had chuckled nonchalantly and assured you that you were just woozy and beyond sloshed. That you held him tightly and wouldn't let him go till you were out cold and passed out on the couch. Chanyeol went as far as calling you cute that day and you felt your face go embarrassingly crimson and returned him with a sharp punch to his gut, making him groan frantically. He did put up a dramatic show that day because he loved attention and took much pride in teasing you.

Quickly enough, your little encounters with him followed. You ran into each other at the games a lot. More mini trips to 7-Eleven at the campus, talking about music and other things that amused you and you came to realize that you both had a lot in common. You were beginning to grow fond of his company everytime Taehyung left you hanging. And whenever you'd get anxious you'd end up texting Chanyeol asking if Tae was at the game.

Chanyeol would facetime you and tell you that guys like to go into their little caves from time to time. That it wasn't anything you should be worrying about. Although, to your shocking revelation, it was far from an ordinary man cave. Your world turned upside down after Chanyeol ran into your boyfriend making out with one of the cheerleaders in the locker room.

He kept it from you for two weeks before fidgeting and stuttering, then finally spilled everything out and suggested you moved on from Taehyung. That it was for the best. At first you thought it was some kind of a pathetic joke but turns out, it wasn't.

You'd never felt so broken and so ditched. You felt ridiculed and helpless. Taehyung never really cared to bring the matter up. And when you asked him if he was seeing anyone, he simply told you not to be ridiculous, persuading you to drop it with all things romantic and velvety later on. You were starting to feel sick of his behavior. Of course it was you who was being delusional and not him shoving his tongue down someone else's throat. It must have been so easy for him, right?

As the weeks flew by, your mind hopelessly drifted back to how your boyfriend would rather spend the weekend with some chic who'd had sugar, spice and everything nice and honestly, it wasn't fun or healthy for you to fret over him anymore. It made you dizzy, made you want to throw up. He was cold blood lying through his teeth. He was cheating on you and you'd had just about enough.

Barely hours ago, you'd stormed out of Taehyung's apartment after having a nerve wracking argument with him. Completely blinded by rage you wandered forcefully in the streets until it had started raining violently. And then it dreadfully occurred to you that you had absolutely nowhere to go. Kyungsoo wasn't in town and the last person to cross your mind was Chanyeol. His apartment was around the corner and of all the people, you never really fathomed you'd end up knocking at his door all doused and a drenched mess like this but here you were.

You balled your fists and sniffled quietly, trying to stop the tears that were welling at the corner of your weary eyes. Chanyeol was still nowhere in sight while the beats continued blaring from his headphones from the other end. You wiped a lone tear that had trickled down your right cheek and returned your attention to the white foam swirling delicately in your mug, trails of steam dancing above it.

"Y/N?"

You heard Chanyeol's voice echo from within the room. You quickly placed your elbows on the counter and ducked your head to conceal your tears away from him.

"The bath is ready. You'll find the clothes on the dresser. And, I– uhm, I have some bath bombs. If you wanna use them. Go ahead." Chanyeol reappeared scratching the back of his head, his lips had curved into a daffy smile.

"You have a...g-girlfriend?" It wasn't that you were curious but you knew you shouldn't have blurted that out so mindlessly. It was obvious. It was so goddamn obvious. He's a young adult, a drop dead gorgeous one for fuck's sake. He plays basketball and guitars, has got a whole studio of his own and must have plenty of girls over. You couldn't have been more nuts to ask him that? You mentally shrug and cuss at yourself.

"What?" Chanyeol looked at you as if you were delirious. "Uhhh, no? I don't." He mumbled, a huge pout adorning his lips. "I'm not.. really.. in a good headspace for love." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "Also, love is fucking illusive, you know?"

Illusive? Is that even a word? You both eyed each other intently and the more you looked at him the more you were mystified by his words. You bit your lip quietly and urged him to continue, "tell me more."

"How about you get out of those clothes first." Chanyeol's voice was barely a whisper. He then furrowed his brows but his expression quickly morphed into an awkward one like he was ready to pull his hair out. "I mean, you must be cold –not that– I– fuck–.."

Another wave of awkward silence crept between you two and he began pulling at his hair frantically. "That sounded awful.." He stomped about cursing and letting a string of fucks slip out of his tongue again. He then collapsed to the floor and hid his face dramatically in his hands. You couldn't help but chuckle at his actions and wheezed loudly enough for him to peek from between his fingers to look back at you. He slowly loosened up and smiled quietly to himself. "I'm serious." He walked towards you and sat himself on the stool, "don't want you falling sick, babe."

Chanyeol looked at you adoringly, the apples of his cheeks were glistening, still blushing pink. "You done with that?" he pointed at the mug. You took one last sip and nodded, never taking your eyes off him. "I am." You pushed the mug towards him and his fingers found their way around the porcelain again, brushing softly against yours like they did the first time. You mouthed a soft 'thank you'. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips while you continued gazing back at him, mesmerized by his pink fluffy ears. A hearty smile fluttered on his lips as well as yours. He wrapped his long fingers snugly around yours and whispered back to you, fondness gleaming in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, baby."

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The lump in your throat was gnawing its way slowly down to your chest as you helped yourself out of your damp clothes. Your head was starting to spin again when you finally caught a glimpse of your disheveled state in the mirror. You mocked yourself cynically and wondered why Chanyeol wasn't mortified, hadn't gasped and shut the door back in your face. You looked ghastly but he was being far too sweet with you. He was gentle as ever, taking your icy hands that had gone numb into his huge ones, rubbing them together to get them warm and whispering sweetly and huskily that it was alright, that you were safe in his hands now.

The more you looked at yourself the more you felt exasperated like you were wallowing away in wades of self pity. Your eyeliner was smudged around your dreary eyes as though someone had beaten the living crap out of you. And, being alone by yourself again only allowed the bitterness to creep back into your heart.

'Love is illusive' Chanyeol had accented and you couldn't help but dwell on the thought as you ensconced yourself into the steaming tub, allowing the lush scent of lavender to cloud your senses. The water soaked and engulfed you in a lukewarm trance, washing away the remnants of the rainstorm that had pierced your fragile skin not merely an hour ago.

"Love's like a game– a game you just can't win."

Chanyeol's words echoed in the back of your mind. He kept citing whilst showing you the way to the bathroom. He can't just be saying that to make you feel better would he? He looked pretty suave and confident saying he didn't have time for romance but then again with a charming aura like that he could get any girl at any shack. It would be his call. You had no hint or clue about his past flings although he'd grown to be so close to you. However, somewhere deep in the pits of your broken heart, you felt like you've known him for years even though you'd only started talking to him merely months ago.

As much as you wanted to drown your thoughts into the night in the tub, you couldn't keep him waiting. If it wasn't embarrassing enough he'd heard your stomach growl to which he had softly grazed your cheek with his thumb and asked you to hurry up, rasping away that he'd cook you something. You were in fact enthusiastic about wanting to give him credence for his witty nuances about love and join him back in the kitchen. If you were a damsel in distress– Chanyeol was your knight in shining armor. You chuckled at the thought and huffed away, blowing and lifting some of the delicate foamy bubbles that were settled on your knees.

Perhaps, it really was time to turn the page to a new chapter in your life. "Fuck you, Tae." You spat bitterly, soapy suds slithering down your dewy, glistening body as you rose to your feet, planting them firmly on the ceramic underneath. "Fuck everything." You crouched again and pulled the stopper out, watching what was left of the effervescent mixture of lavender whirl about and get sucked into the drain, taking along with it parts of you that you no longer wished to carry the burden of.

You felt like you deserve the chance to clear yourself of this mess and you were willing to explore what the universe had to offer you now. If it had so spurred you into risking hypothermia enough to end up at someone's door who could in fact be your saving grace. Someone who believes that love is all but a load of bullshit, then maybe Park Chanyeol might actually be the one for you. And, you could definitely rely on him to help you piece your broken heart together without having to worry about the perpetual matters of love. You wanted to step into the light, without having to look back again.

And you were glad you could seek the light past love and its hazy horizon for once.

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A hoard of concerns were lurking before you. With all your clothes soaked and dirty now, including your garments, you stood in front of the dresser, scratching your head in confusion.

Huffing away, you put Chanyeol's t-shirt on which had engulfed you completely, all the way down to your knees. The most frustrating part however, were the shorts he picked for you. They didn't sit at your hips at all and had drooped down your legs the minute you put them on, instantly piling at your feet. 'How the fuck am I supposed to secure this?' You fretted, shrugging as you picked them back up.

You tried again but failed miserably. It would be fucking awkward walking back into the kitchen, dressed only in his shirt. You had absolutely nothing on underneath. Fuck. It's not like you were going to touch him or anything. You can manage this and maybe he won't notice, right? It was your last resort and you quickly had to make your mind up. Out of nowhere you heard your stomach growl again. It was either do or die now. You had to decide. 'I'll keep my distance from him and he won't bat an eye' were the words you chanted to yourself before leaving the bedroom.

As you walked back into the living room, your ears were invited by the soft music playing from the record player, the one that was by the glass shelf. You stopped by the dining table facing Chanyeol's back who was busy in the kitchen. The aroma of pancakes whiffed through the air and the atmosphere was perfectly cozy. Although, you didn't dare move from the table and decided to keep yourself away and at a distance. Then Chanyeol turned around and his eyes flew wide open in surprise.

"What the fu– ...you startled me." He yelped, placing the pan back on the stove and clutching at his heart. "I thought I already had you stricken with horror when you first opened the door," you snorted, "I looked horrendous, didn't I?" Chanyeol simply shook his head in denial and retorted with a playful smirk. "You looked quite hot. I'm not gonna lie."

"Shut up, Chanyeol." You felt your face flushing an awful shade of pink at his remarks. "It's the truth, babe." He quipped, whirling about and chuckling away as he returned his attention towards cooking the pancakes again. "Come here, you need to eat!" he called out and your limbs immediately went limp.

"Um, can you place it on the counter for me?" you purred, requesting him in your humblest tone. "I'm..kinda.. in a fix here." Your voice wavered and when Chanyeol turned around to look at you again, he grinned sheepishly. "What's wrong?" he asked you as if he had no clue what you were going on about.

"It's an embarrassing...outfit situation." You cleared your throat and Chanyeol quickly mouthed an 'oh'. "It doesn't sound like much of a problem to me." He rasped, dripping maple syrup on pancakes. "Your belly needs some food and that's more important." He then brought the plate with the freshly made pancakes and placed it on the counter and ushered you warmly to join him at the island. His voice suddenly grew a little stern. "Come on now before it gets cold." His sudden strictness made you chuckle. He possibly can't get more adorable than this, can he?

"Fine." You faltered in your steps and met him at the island. Thankfully, the structure blocked a good amount of distance between you two. When you settled down on the stool, he handed you the fork and you started taking measly bites out of the plate. Chanyeol watched you intently, his arms were propped up against the counter, hands cupped around his face as he gaped at you in awe. "Stop looking at me like that. You're making me nervous." You mumbled in between bites. He gave you a squinty eyed grin before snatching the fork away from your hands and making you gasp.

"Geez baby, you're supposed to wolf it down." He cut through the pancake haphazardly and jabbed at a huge chunk, "like this." He then shoved the massive bite into your mouth and a muffled moan left your lips as you swallowed it down. "This will fill you up." He then glanced at your lips coated with the sweet syrup hazily and mumbled huskily in his deep voice. "God, I could fill you up."

Of course you were going to choke upon hearing what he had just said. You wheezed frantically and couldn't pluck enough courage to look him in the eye anymore. Your heart thundered in your chest as you squirmed and scooted anxiously away from him, a faint blush spreading over your cheeks. You could tell he was violently biting down on his bottom lip, shutting his own eyes close, as tightly as he could.

You both were awfully quiet again. Too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. But then Chanyeol interjects, breaking the awkwardness, "I didn't mean to…"

"D-don't.. worry about it," you bite on your own lip and jab at your pancake with your fork. He looks at you cryptically, "are you sure?"

You nod your head and lick your lips and when you do, something triggers Chanyeol and he quickly gets off his stool and much to your relief walks back to the stove with an excuse to make you more pancakes. You try to gobble the rest of the pancake as quickly as you can while trying your best not to dither about what had just happened. As soon as you're done, you pick your plate up and scamper towards the sink but Chanyeol blocks you. "Woah, hold up. You're not done eating until I say so." He looms over you and his voice is yet again, stern and you push him away and boy you wish you didn't.

The second your palm came in contact with his abs through the fabric you knew you fucked up. You could feel the ridges and he was so perfectly packed and built. The girls at uni, they were right. Park Chanyeol was irresistible and you were only inches away from him.

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A/N ~

this is it guys. it’s broken and full of errors lol. i lost the doc that had everything written beyond this. i had wiped my drive for work last year and other reasons. anyway, i’m happy you made it this far with me in this clouded journey. if you wish to find out what happens after, feel free to ping me i’ll sum it up for you, sweet & short, only if you really wish to find out how these two end up haha. but yeah. this is it. i haven’t got anything else to say. so yeah, stay safe and most importantly, be happy. love y’all. <3

Taglist ♡ @loeyprivvv @littleflowercrown13 @wifechungha @rashidamesrur @mindofthescattered @zessafg @always-wishing-for-rain @brazilianbasicbitch @kpopfessions-blog @baek-byunies @j-pping @godexosblog @hansolturnt @anyh0w @fire-poppyqueen @smolmel @nanasupremacy @chanyeolparkriswu✧ Note - If I have forgotten to tag anyone! I’m sorry, I lost the doc where I kept track of you guys so, this is all I got.

#chanyeol #chanyeol smut #chanyeol fic #chayeol angst #chayeol fanfic #chanyeol x reader #chayeol scenarios #chanyeol drabble #exo smut #clouded #chanyeol x you #chanyeol fanfiction #park chanyeol #college!au #angst #kpop angst #kpop smut #flkfkl;sfks i forgot how this trashsite works #gg guys. see you in the next dimension.

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redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

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