#sorry it took a while! the last two horses were really hard to track down!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greypetrel · 11 months

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Beh, I'm bored. Che ne dici di [ SCAR ] for the prompt game? (Lmao now I'm mixing both languages, il cervello è davvero stanco XD)

LOL chiedimi se avevo capito fossi/parlassi italiano. Because I DIDN’T. Ma buonasera! xD And don’t worry for the mix, it’s perfectly fine, pidgins are the best. u_u

Sorry for being late, I didn’t forgot! Again, this took me a while to mull over and think about it… But after much much musing, I decided to delve back into DadWolf AU, interpret it metaphorically and well. It’s angst.

Angst with a bog unicorn. Enjoy, here’s a glass of iced tea.

Somewhere Only We Know. (🎶)

[ SCAR ]: noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it.

When they got back from Minrathous, bringing down a friend who was in need of help, they all knew they would have needed time to cope and digest what happened. And after all it was only natural that they couldn’t have taken it well: they had to abruptly cut off their research, take what they could and jump on the first plane, leave everything they worked for in the last years behind and start from scratch. Felix didn’t know anyone in Ferelden beside the two siblings, had a dime to his name, name he couldn’t use without them all being discovered and followed by mages that weren’t as amiable and good natured as he was, and was also, incidentally, terminally ill.

Knowing their different ways to cope with emotions and grief, nothing was exactly a surprise.

It was no surprise noticing how Aisling retreated back in herself academically, refused to do anything substantial and veered her career towards something she liked, but was very inconsequential to a better good. She faced everything on stubbornly and took too much responsibilities, was in the Hospital as much as she could and worked in the weekends to pay for her own rent, refusing to just go back to the family house if not to visit. She looked fine, but some times she just showed up uncalled for, curled on the couch between Solas and Varric and let them both comfort her, saying nothing and, sometimes, crying. That done, she was good to start back, and never backed up. As per her usual.

Dorian, tho, was a whole other matter. He didn’t give in academically and looked for a field of research that was close to what they were doing North. On his own, and with a different team, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince Aisling to jump back in, and Felix soon was in no condition to work continuously. Dorian went on nonetheless. Personally, tho, it was clear he was just swiping every negative emotion under a carpet, refusing to even admit there was something wrong. He went to visit Felix once, when it was clear his time was at its limit, and just held onto Aisling, offering her a shoulder to cry on, during the funeral. A small function, just them, the family that helped and some friends there for the siblings. Dorian didn’t cry, he just glowered at the coffin as if it was blaming it for everything. As per his usual.

They all knew that if Aisling appeared weak, the one they should look up more for was Dorian. They all knew he would have broken down, sooner or later. He always did, accumulating stress and bursting. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

The when, it turned out, was a week after the funeral, in the form of a horse-transport van that let out a terrible stench, and parked in front of Varric and Solas’ house one Sunday morning.

“What’s the matter? Did you steal the content of a dumpster?”

Varric asked, stepping on the front porch and looking at his daughter, jumping off of the driver’s seat. It was Dorian, tho, to answer him, in a cheerful tone that was way too enthusiastic to be sincere, as he gingerly turned around the front of the track.

“We’re doing an experiment! Just for fun, like the old times… We need the back garden I think, can we? Of course we can, it’s not like you two are really going to build the swimming pool today, are you.”

He laughed, crossing past his sister and starting to unlock the doors of the back, humming between himself. Weird. Very, very weird. The dwarf exchanged a look with Aisling, still propped against the driver’s door, a silent question passing between them. She just shook her head, a sorrowful bent of her mouth telling him everything the dwarf needed to know before she walked back and started to help her brother.

“Did the garbage truck broke again?” Asked Solas, walking out of the door too, a mug of cocoa in his hand.

“Sparkler’s at his limit.”

“It was about time… Still doesn’t explain the stench.”

“I know as much as you do.”

They stood there, looking at the situation unfurling, ready to help at need. From the back of the truck jumped out a Qunari, panting grossly and loudly complaining that it was the most disgusting thing he ever did. Dorian just swatted every complaint, lamenting that for such a big creature he was surprisingly delicate, and urging them all to just get to work and stop losing precious time, tying a scarf around his nose and mouth and going on chatting about how science demanded strong arms and how it wasn’t a job for the weak of hearts.

The job not for the weak of hearts, was, apparently, dragging down the truck what looked like to be, in fact, the corpse of a black horse, lying on his side, flies buzzing all around and legs rigid that Aisling hat to gently bend to maneuver the hoofs out of the door, huffing loudly, a scarf on her nose and mouth as well, but not saying anything at all.

The horse -a poor, big beast who somehow met his destiny with a dagger crossing his head- got transported with difficulty by the trio, via a plastic cover the corpse was resting over, to the side of the house and in the back garden. Dorian kept on chatting with a glee that was very much unlike anything that was going on, the Qunari -Bull, he got called - replying with sarcasm to everything, and Aisling just silently working, casting glances at Dorian from time to time.

Both Varric and Solas follow them, half curious about what exactly he planned to do with a dead horse, half worried because if there was a shade of weirdness that felt like a scream for help, that was it.

But whatever the experiment was, it was for the siblings alone: when the horse finally was in a position that Dorian deemed optimal, he and Aisling started to chat, in a weird mix of Common and Tevene for the most practical things, circling the animal and discussing. The Qunari, without anything to add to the conversation and looking worried as well, stepped away and approached the pair of spectators.

He introduced himself to the pair as the Iron Bull, the mechanic working on Aisling’s car and owner of the garage on the ground floor of Aisling’s flat building. He was very pleased to finally meet the parents. He accepted something to drink –“Is that hot cocoa?”- and was good company, warming up a quite sceptical Solas too for a hour, before he had to get back to work and excused himself.

He patted Dorian’s shoulder, barely noticed if not physically, and earned a dismissive goodbye by a too concentrated mage. Aisling, tho, jumped up and hugged him tight, with a thank you, before getting back to work.

Qunari gone, the experiment went on as if the two siblings were on their own, with none the wiser and absolutely no neighbour peeking through the windows with big eyes. They all got unused to the experiments, in the years.

Solas, worried, went to offer his help when Dorian started evoking spirits, but Dorian harshly shooed away with the assurance that everything was perfectly under control and he didn’t need to worry, this was way past his comfort zone with spirits. Aisling, today’s silent interpreter and service sister, shook her head when Dorian wasn’t looking, preventing the older elf to reply and start a discussion. Again, damage prevented, the parents got the message that there was nothing they could do save going on with their life and waiting for the situation to unfold.

There was no talking him out for a pause or to stop to have lunch all together. He was in the zone, and not intentioned of stopping any time soon, hands working quickly and brain even faster, tension evident in the way he slouched forward and in the way his shoulders were contracted up to his ears. He hadn’t even insisted to have some sort of blanket, sitting on the grass without minding his clothes or his allergies. Which he never did. Varric brought them some sandwiches and a jug full of iced tea nevertheless - Aisling ate, Dorian didn’t. The afternoon went on like that, a frenzy foreshadowing a big, harsh fall.

When the sun was setting, finally, a neigh rose up from the backyard, loud and clear.

Solas and Varric exchanged one look and rushed back in the kitchen and out of the back door right into the garden.

The horse stood on its hooves, stomping confused and shaking his head -the sword was still planted in it. There were runes and glyphs on its flanks, most Nevarran but with some Tevinter and a couple of Elvhen in it, painted in red chalk. Aisling was standing in front of the animal -zombie?-, cooing soothingly and trying to calm the poor beast down. She managed, caressing his nose and patting his neck until it finally stopped neighing and stomping his hooves and breathing too quickly, with the soft voice she always used for horses, and a tired smile on her face.

“Chuckles-”

“I know.”

“The horse was dead.”

“I know.”

As Varric was totally creeped out, there was pride in Solas’ voice, the usual pride that hadn’t been there ever since the children moved out and moved their crazy experiments in a laboratory, out of the house. It was disconcerning, but the horse looked, indeed, alive enough to, slowly, take trust and start nuzzling Aisling’s hand as a normal horse would. Well, there were some issues for him in opening his mouth, but the animal clearly did his best.

“What- Is that… Normal? Possible?”

“Very difficult. But yes. I didn’t know he studied Necromancy of all things…”

“Necr- Oh, shit. Did he-?”

“No. There’s a Spirit inhabiting the horse. Not the original soul. Still, the body can move.”

The Necromancer, tho, in spite of the success, was still sitting on the grass on his butt, legs folded in front of him and back slouched forward and down, not looking at the horse but at his hands in his lap, totally frozen on the spot. A minute later, Aisling reached him, leaving the horse to explore the new surroundings and its new life as she sat beside him.

Their hands were dirty and the foul stench of dead horse soaked their very clothes. Dorian, tho, had lost every willingness to complain.

“He’s fine, I think. What about Ugo? Ugo the Unicorn.” Aisling proposed, scooting close so they were side by side on the grass, shoulders and hips touching.

“Whatever, I don’t care. It’s yours if you want him, I… I just needed to know that-”

He snorted, shaking his head harshly as he grimaced, not concluding the sentence.

“I know, Dor.”

“I could have saved him.”

“You couldn’t have, Dor. That’s not the horse. There was nothing to do.”

“There’s always something to do… If I… If we-”

His voice broke, and her heart as well, all over again.

“We helped him as we could, Dor. We got him out, we were with him until the end. He knew, he never blamed you, he wouldn’t blame you now.”

“I’ve been a coward. I left him alone, and-”

That’s when Dorian started to cry, breath strangled as he unfolded and bends forward, curling on himself and sobbing loudly. Aisling was there to catch him - she had waited that moment ever since he had showed up to her flat, entering with his key and had explained the experiment to her, she was surprised it took so long. She hugged him tight, dragging his bust against hers and holding him as tight as she could. She started to cry too, for company.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. He knew. It’s ok. You did your best, and it was enough. He wasn’t alone.”

He unfurled and hugged his sister back, bawling in her shoulder, months of pressure and regrets and fear finally catching up with him, all together. There was no undoing what happened: the work they had done for the wrong people, in good faith, the escape, running back in the night like thieves, a luggage full of notes and papers prioritized over clothes and personal belongings. A PhD totally lost and to be gained again from scratch, and bringing Felix with them knowing they had no money and his days were counted. Starting from zero and separating in work for the first time. It all had left a scar, in both of them: they just had different ways to manifest it, different ways to cope, and different ways to help the other with it, of metaphorically healing the hurt with a kiss.

And for the first time in years since they left, dragged inside by Solas and Varric who were there too to catch him, coax him to have some dinner and take a shower and coze up all together on the couch, with a movie and blankets. For the first time in years they weren’t alone.

#dragon age #dadwolf au #science bros #bog unicorn #dragon age fic #da:i #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #dorian pavus #solas #varric tethras #fic #da fic #Too metaphoric? Well...

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komotionlessqueenmm · 3 years

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Imagine # 847

Gif NOT mine. (Tumblrs crediting me, but it isn't mine. Click my name at the bottom of the gif and you'll understand.)

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me know, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2021

----

"Get back here (Y/n)." Perseus huffed at his daughter, who was in the midst of storming out of their little house. "(Y/n)!" He shouted her name when she ignored him, sighing to himself when she mounted her horse and left. "That girl." He grumbled under his breath, rubbing his temples with frustration. "Father?" Helios approached his father, who smiled down at him. "Come on Helios, let's go back to dinner." Perseus rest his hand on his son's shoulder, unaware of (Y/n) watching him from a distance, a bitter scowl on her face. "He will always favor Helios." She hissed before ushering her horse on, journeying out into the world, to her sanctuary.

Upon arriving at her destination, (Y/n) dismounted her horse, leading him to a small nearby stream. "Stay here Ajax." She muttered as she pet his mane, knowing he'd stay regardless of if she commanded it or not. Afterwards she turned her attention to the narrow crevice in the cliff, the entrance to a complex system of tunnels and caves, one she knew all to well. She entered the system and began her journey to the central cave, the place she built into a second home for herself, and shrine to the Gods.

Shrugging off her bag she knelt before the next statue lining the far wall, praying to one God at a time for several years, hoping one day one of them would send her a sign that they were listening to her. "Great Ares God of war... Uncle." She bowed her head, in respect. "Show me a sign that you hear my prayers, and gift me with the strength to endure my father, and the neglect." (Y/n)'s eyes glossed over as she thought about her last encounter with her father, raising her head she looked to the statue of her uncle. "Help me quell the war within my heart." She begged before rising from her spot, she reached for her bag, and left an offering at Ares feet.

She froze upon the sound of wind whipping behind her, a new presence entering the cave, their curious eyes upon her. "You pray to me." Ares stated with a small tilt of his head, having been unaware of her existence as his niece, until she called out to him. "Yes." (Y/n) nodded her head, keeping her back to him. "Why?" He asked as he observed the room. "I have prayed to the Gods for many years, one at a time, and you were the next in line." She pointed to the statues before her, finally turning to face him, unable to look him in the eyes. "Why do you pray?" He asked with genuine curiosity. "I have no one else... The God's have been abandoned by humans, and I know what it's like to be abandoned, and so I looked for comfort with the Gods... But no one has ever answered until now." She spoke softly, though Ares could hear her plain and clear.

"Why don't you look me in the eyes?" Ares asked as he peered down at his niece, who kept her head bowed down, casting her eyes to the dirt covered floor. "I don't want you to see the damage inside them." She murmured softly, her words striking something within Ares's heart. "Look at me dear niece." He spoke softly as he tilted her head back, looking into her eyes finally, and seeing a familiar pain within them. "You are the daughter of Perseus." He stated. "I am." She muttered as her eyes glossed subtlety. "Tell me what you know of abandonment." Ares all but demanded, releasing his hold on her jaw, following her as she moved to sit at a small table. "When my brother was born, our mother died in childbirth... And ever since then, I have been forgotten by my father, in favor of Helios." She held her head up a bit higher, her anger bubbling back up again.

"It's been years and nothing has changed, well not for the better atleast. I've been neglected for so long, forgotten in favor of his precious son. When Helios turned two, I gave up on the prospect of earning my father's love back. I ran away for a short time, I found this place, and over the years built my shrine, and began praying to the Gods. Hoping that one day one of you would show me a sign that I'm not alone, that you're listening. It's all I've ever wanted." (Y/n) picked at a bit of the table that was splintering away. "I run away from home often, and I come here. I fought with my father again today, and I came here. He didn't even try coming after me, he never has..." She spoke quietly, unaware of how Ares's anger with Perseus only grew. "What is your name?" Ares asked gently. "(Y/n)." She smiled softly at him, chuckling at the curious look on his face. "It's a strange name I know, I was named after my wet nurse, and she was from a far way land." (Y/n) explained with a smile, her explanation making Ares smile as well.

"It's a lovely name." He complimented genuinely, grasping her smaller hand in his. "Come with me (Y/n), back to Olympus, where I will care for you as if you were my own." Ares offered with a smile, which widened a little at the sight of her excitement. "Really!?" She gasped as she sat up straighter. "Yes." He squeezed her hand softly, a laugh erupting from his chest when she practically dove into his chest, hugging him as if her life depended on it. "Please uncle please take me away from here." She pleaded with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Is there anything you want to take with you?" Ares asked as she released her hold on him, allowing him to stand to his full height. "Ajax." (Y/n) responded without hesitation. "Who is Ajax?" Ares asked as (Y/n) began leading him out of the cave system. "My horse, he was the last gift my mother gave me before she died." (Y/n) explained, pointing to the stallion in question when they exited the cave. "Very well." Ares smiled before transporting them all to Olympus.

---A month later---

Again his search was in vain, he could find no sign of (Y/n), or even Ajax. With a defeated sigh he cast his eyes to the horizon, unable to bring himself back home to Helios empty handed again. "Father I need your guidance." Perseus muttered plainly, afraid he'd never find her on his own. "What is it my son?" Zeus asked as he appeared behind Perseus. "It's (Y/n)... She's been missing for a month, and I cannot find any trace of her. I need your help." Perseus explained, frowning when Zeus smiled. "We will find her, come with me." Zeus offered Perseus his hand, transporting him to the Grey Sisters. Perseus scowled at the sight of them once more, though he stepped forward as Zeus encouraged. "Ah Perseus comes back to us." One of the sisters pointed out as she held the eye, shrinking back when she noticed Zeus behind him. "And he brought Zeus with him." She hissed, the other sisters shrinking back upon hearing her words.

"I need you to tell me where my daughter is." Perseus demanded, the sisters giggling simultaneously. "The daughter of Perseus wants nothing to due with him anymore, she has found a new father to take his place." The sister with the eye snickered sinisterly. "What is that supposed to mean?" Perseus growled in anger. "You neglected her for to long young Perseus, she turned her back on you the way you did to her. Your brother Ares took your place, and took her to Olympus to care for as his own." The sisters laughed again, only further angering Perseus, who turned that anger to his father. "You knew." He accused, despite the confusion in Zeus's eyes. "I knew nothing of this." Zeus argued, whisking himself and Perseus back to Olympus. When they reached Olympus they barged into Ares's hall, to find him laughing as he taught (Y/n) how to fight with a sword. "(Y/n)!" Perseus exclaimed as he rushed to her side, freezing in his tracks when Ares stepped between them, shielding (Y/n). "Get away from her." Perseus hissed at his brother, who only smiled at him. "I was going to say the same thing to you." Ares taunted only angering Perseus more.

"(Y/n) come here." Perseus demanded as he glared at his brother. "No." (Y/n) shook her head, sheathing the sword Ares had gifted her with, she moved to stand beside her Uncle. "What?" Perseus frowned at her. "I'm staying here with Ares, you can go back home. Be with your favorite child, and leave me here with my chosen father." (Y/n) hissed at Perseus who bowed his head in shame, knowing well how wrong he had treated her. "You are my daughter." Perseus muttered as he looked to her with sad eyes. "I haven't been your daughter in a long time." She turned her back on him, walking away. "She'll be safer here." Ares mused casually, glaring at his father before looking to Perseus. "She's already happier." He added making Perseus feel even worse. "If you're truly happy here (Y/n)." Perseus began, drawing (Y/n)'s attended to him. "Then I will leave you be, but know we'll always be waiting for you to return to us." He promised, though his words held no weight to her. "You'll be waiting in vain Perseus." She stated emotionlessly, the use of his name stinging to Perseus.

Perseus left the hall and waited for Zeus to join him, shameful tears welling in his eyes, for having pushed his only daughter away so much, that she turned her back on him. "How long were you planning on hiding her from me?" Zeus asked Ares who placed a comforting hand onto (Y/n)'s shoulder. "I wasn't hiding her, you just never noticed." Ares retorted before turning his attention solely to (Y/n), the daughter he never knew he wanted. "I am sorry Perseus." Zeus tried as he exited the hall, feeling sorry for his son. "Just take me back home, Helios needs me." Perseus wiped away the tears within his eyes, turning to Zeus with a hard face, trying to bury the pain he was feeling. "Very well." Zeus nodded before sending Perseus back with the wave of his hand. A sigh escaping the old Gods throat, while laughter and swords clashing together could be heard from within Ares's hall.

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writertitan · 3 years

Text

Sunsets

pairing: levi x f!reader (she/her pronouns used)

word count: 3.3k

themes: a little angsty at first but trust the process, fluffy ending, canonverse, levi is nervous

requested by anon

The first time you felt something was amiss was when you caught Levi scrambling to hide something in his desk drawer as you walked into his office.

“What’s that?” you asked, more out of slight curiosity than anything else, as you closed the door behind you.

“Nothing,” Levi responded curtly, and that was the end of it.

For a moment, you wondered about pressing it, mostly just to tease, but it was forgotten the moment Levi got up and walked towards you to hand you a cup of tea.

You stole a quick peck from him in the process, his sneaky little moment now completely wiped from your head, and you launched into a summary of your day with your squad.

Levi listened as attentively as he always did. As you spoke, the two of you ended up leaving his office to take a stroll outside, sipping your teas as you chatted.

It was no surprise that you ended up where you always did outside. A private spot - the one you’d dubbed your spot with Levi - in a quiet part of base, aware from prying eyes and the constant noise and running around.

You looked towards the sunset that bled across the wall and sighed in content, clutching your teacup close to your chest as you took in the sight. You could feel Levi’s eyes on you but you didn’t turn to him right away, choosing to admire the warm colors before the sky turned inky. Still, that didn’t stop you from being cheeky.

“What are you staring at?” you asked with a small smile tugging at your lips. Finally, your gaze flickered to Levi, catching his silvery eyes.

He grunted a noncommittal response and looked towards the sunset as well, but you saw the faint pink dusting his ears. It made you smile wider, and you hid it behind your teacup before taking one last sip of tea.

“We should go back inside soon, it’s getting chilly,” you said, and Levi nodded once, his eyes on you yet again when he noticed that you were getting closer to him instead of heading back inside.

The evening was settling into a cool spring night, and you couldn’t help your desire to snuggle closer into Levi. There was no one around - you could hear the ruckus of dinnertime in the mess hall - which made it the perfect opportunity to find comfort in his sturdy, warm chest.

Over the years, you’d noticed that your more unexpected advances, like this one, made Levi tense up less and less. The very first time you’d gotten cuddly with him, even in the privacy of his room, he’d frozen up and couldn’t respond. An entirely different Levi from this current one, who easily looped an arm around your middle and nuzzled his nose into your hairline when you rested your head against his shoulder.

“Let’s go back in now,” he murmured against your forehead, and you hummed in both agreement and disagreement.

It was nice to be like this with him. It felt normal, weightless. You wanted to soak up in this moment forever.

When Levi pulled away, you whined a little and leaned towards him again, seeking his warmth, but you stopped when Levi set his cup down gently on the grass to shrug out of his jacket and drape it over your shoulders. His warmth and his scent enveloped your senses and you smiled shyly at him, using your free hand to tug his jacket closer around you.

He took your cup from you and then grabbed his cup from the grass, allowing you a few moments to snuggle up in his jacket and stick your arms through the sleeves. The two of you were settled in a comfortable silence as you walked back inside, straight towards your shared room.

On the way back you passed by Levi’s office, door still ajar, and Levi asked you to stop so he could finish up a few things and lock it up for the night.

“Mind taking these back to the kitchen?” he asked you as he gently handed you the empty teacups.

“Don’t mind at all, I’ll just meet you in our room,” you said, turning back around to leave.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder before closing the door behind you, and stopped when you saw him briefly peek into the same drawer he’d been so sneaky about earlier, the memory popping back up in your brain.

Whatever he was hiding, he didn’t take it out, and you didn’t wait around to see if he would. It was probably nothing.

By the time you got to your shared room, Levi was already there, and the memory was almost to the back of your mind again, to be completely forgotten the moment his lips touched yours. It wasn’t until you were drifting off to sleep, Levi’s hand stroking along your spine, that your mind conjured it up again in a dream.

----

The second time you felt something was up was when Hange and Levi shut up the moment you stepped into the room.

Hushed whispers cut off short the moment you walked in, and it was a little irritating. Whatever urgent matter you’d needed Levi for was wiped from your head for the moment, replaced with unease.

“What?” you pressed, eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Levi said, a little too quickly for your liking, and you gave him a frown.

“Then what were you talking about?”

“Can’t tell you yet,” Hange piped up, which in turn made Levi glare at them.

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide if it was worth asking for more information, but before you could make up your mind, Hange jumped up from their chair and gave you a bright smile, glasses flashing in the afternoon light streaming through the window of their lab.

“Well, I’m off! Got lots of things to tend to this afternoon. See you for supper?” They didn’t want for an answer as they hurried past you, leaving you alone with a very on edge Levi.

You hadn’t seen him this tensed up since you’d first gotten together. It was startling.

It was scary.

“Levi…,” you began, but couldn’t find the words. Finally, you decided on, “Is everything okay?”

He softened at your question, which had come out quiet and clearly laced with worry, and in no time he was in front of you and smoothing some hair from your face.

“Stop worrying so much,” he answered; his eyes were sincere and calming, and your heartbeat slowly went back to normal when he let you lean into his touch.

You didn’t dawdle too much and eventually you pulled away from him, giving him a stern look when you remembered what you’d come to find him for.

“One of the cadets tracked in...horse shit. And he doesn’t know how to clean it up. Honestly, he’s just spreading it around even more. We need you,” you explained, just about gagging even at the very recent memory of the poor boy trying his best to clean before his captain could find out.

Levi’s eyes had widened the moment you’d mentioned anything about horse dung being anywhere other than in the stables, and then darkened as he processed the situation at hand.

“This batch has got to be the worst we’ve ever had,” he muttered, referring to your newest recruits. “I think I’m gonna be fucking sick. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until you both heard Hange’s bloodcurdling scream that you sprung into action. Because for Hange of all people to get worked up about a mess, it had to be bad. And Levi knew that better than anyone.

He had never left you behind as fast as he did right then.

---

Though the sneakiness persisted over the next couple of weeks, what you couldn’t let go of was the way Levi was slowly tensing up again.

What had you done? Had you done something that had set him off and made him uncomfortable?

Every time you tried to broach the subject with him, Levi was quick to change the subject. Then, for a while, he’d be sort of back to normal with you. He’d sneak a few affectionate touches in private, he’d take an evening stroll outside only for you to end up at your favorite spot, and then you’d feel your worries slip away.

Only for those same worries to come crashing back when he’d tense up again.

The final straw was after training, when you’d walked into his office to give him some paperwork, and had caught him pacing back and forth. He looked stressed out and it made your heart hurt for him.

Apparently, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you come in. As he turned his head towards the window, back to you, you walked over to place a hand on his shoulder, ready to comfort him.

The way he cringed away made you stumble back as if you’d been slapped. The pain of rejection spread from your heart to your entire body as Levi whipped around to face you, grey eyes filled with surprise when he saw it was you.

And then you just couldn’t help it. The tears that filled your eyes couldn’t be stopped, and Levi looked horrified at the sight.

“I’m sorry-” he started, but you interrupted him with a whispered, “Stop.”

It was then that the most horrible thought came to you, a thought that suddenly made the most sense.

“Do you not want to be with me anymore?” you asked him, voice cracking at the end.

The sneakiness, the tension he radiated, it all pointed to one thing: He was done with you. That had to be it. Just the idea of it made your heart simultaneously sink and beat hard in denial. Your body was just as tense as Levi’s.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, maybe Levi had decided that a relationship really was too hard. Maybe you’d forced him to be too open. Maybe he was uncomfortable with you. It had taken a long time for him to come out of his shell and truly open up to you, but maybe he regretted it.

Levi, for the first time ever since you’d known him, looked dumbfounded.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, but your heart sank at that.

Answering a question with another question. A telltale sign that he was avoiding the answer.

“All of your sneaking around, Levi! You’ve been acting so different lately and I guess I get it now,” you said, voice still wobbly as the tears threatened to fall.

Realization dawned on Levi’s face then, but you didn’t wait around for whatever he was about to say. You’d thought that maybe Levi had just needed some space before. Now it was you who needed space. If he was going to call things off, you needed a bit more time to prepare yourself.

You left despite Levi calling out for you, tears finally trickling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to hurry off and find somewhere to calm down.

You pushed yourself into the first supply closet you could find and locked it after you, settling down in the darkness as you wiped at your continuously falling tears.

Maybe you were jumping to conclusions, but something was just different about Levi lately. And to have him tense up like that, when he hadn’t done so in such a long time...it hurt more than anything else. Even the thought of him not being in your life sent shots of panic through you.

But you couldn’t face him just yet. You’d have to sort it out soon with him, whether you were right or not, but the fear and insecurity ate away at you in that supply closet.

One thing stood out though, as your tears subsided.

Levi would never intentionally hurt you. He wanted you to be safe, to feel safe, like you made him feel safe.

And, the most important thing you had to remember, was that you loved him. And you weren’t willing to throw it all away without doing all you could to repair whatever needed fixing.

You had to be brave. You owed it to Levi to be brave, even if you were about to hear something you didn’t want to hear.

So, after a deep breath, you dusted yourself off and slowly left the closet, quiet and a little anxious as you headed back to his office.

Your footsteps were the only sound as you made your way down the hall. Nobody was around and, as you got closer to Levi’s office, you couldn’t hear him inside.

Peeking your head in, your suspicions were confirmed when you were met with an empty space. You quietly shut the door behind you and looked around, as if Levi would randomly appear.

The silence was uncomfortable. Though much of your time spent alone with Levi was in silence, it was comfortable and perfect, and made you feel as if you could continue on that way forever. But just you here in his office with Levi nowhere in sight, with only silence to accompany you, made you feel cold.

You sat at his desk and sighed, rubbing at your face for a moment before leaning back in his chair and contemplating what to do next. Should you just wait for him here?

But when your eyes flickered to the desk drawer that had started the first bouts of unease in you, your mind blanked.

It was unlike you to invade Levi’s privacy. And truly, whatever he’d pushed into that drawer must have been taken out by now, right?

But you were acting so unlike you today.

Part of you felt bad to be opening up the drawer to peek inside, but the other part of you just needed to know, and needed to find answers.

There were a few documents in there that looked standard, but the folded up piece of parchment at the back caught your attention immediately.

You carefully pulled it out and shut the drawer, heart thumping as you unfolded it to look at the contents.

Ring?

At morning? At night? at sunset, our spot

Write a speech

Memorize the speech?

Or maybe just ask her Too aggressive. Say something romantic first asshole

Ask Hange for help on what to say even if it makes you want to die

Be confident

Would she even want to marry you?

Be confident

Where at first your heart had been pounding, it had suddenly skipped a few beats when you realized what you were reading.

Levi’s normally neat and beautiful handwriting was more erratic here, with ink blotting through and so many things scratched out.

But even so, your eyes fell back to the word you couldn’t believe you were reading.

Marry.

He wanted to marry you?

And he was actually questioning if you’d want to marry him?

All of your previous worries suddenly seemed so stupid. You felt so stupid. You’d jumped to conclusions, and your conclusion had been the complete opposite of what was going on.

And now you had to find Levi.

---

The best part about being with Levi for so long was gradually figuring out his thought process. And you knew, judging from how you’d taken off earlier, that Levi would try to think like you and run off to find you in the places where you’d most likely go to calm down and seek comfort.

Definitely not a supply closet.

Your feet guided you outside and you felt like you were on autopilot as you strolled the grounds, slowly making your way to yours and Levi’s spot.

When the sight of him came into view, him sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall of the building, your heart fluttered and you breathed out in relief.

He whipped his head in your direction once your footsteps could be heard coming towards him, and the conflicted expression on his face melted away at the sight of you. But at the sight of his little secret clutched in one of your hands, his eyes widened and a faint blush spread over his face. He got up quickly, hesitating for a moment before stepping towards you.

“I’m sorry for going through your things-” you started, but were cut off by Levi pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I do want to be with you,” he whispered in your ear, pulling away after a moment to look at your face with the most gentle gaze. He briefly nodded toward the parchment in your hand, looking even a little shy as he met your eyes again. “I want to be with you for as long as I’m allowed to be. But I was so busy being nervous about asking you that I didn’t realize I was acting like an asshole. I’m sorry. You deserve bett-”

Your lips were on his before he could finish.

Levi had the annoying habit of thinking you were too good for him. But now, it looked like you could spend the rest of your life proving to him that he was exactly what you deserved.

When you pulled away, you beamed at him, tears sprouting in your eyes again. This time, of pure happiness.

You turned to look at the slowly disappearing sunset and laughed a little; it was just how Levi had tried to plan it.

Still, he looked flustered as he pulled you closer.

“This wasn’t exactly how I wanted it to go, I don’t even have a ring yet,” he whispered, but you shook your head and cupped his face, pressing your forehead to his.

You just wanted to hear the words.

“This is perfect,” you assured him, and it really was. He could have asked you at any moment, ever, and you would have thought it was perfect. “Just ask me. I just want you to ask me.”

Levi cleared his throat awkwardly, which made you giggle, but it died down when his thumb danced over your jaw sweetly, and you felt his words ghost over your lips when he finally spoke.

“Will you marry me?”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi fanfiction #levi fluff #levi fic #levi ackerman oneshot #levi one shot #levi ackerman #levi #aot oneshots #aot fanfiction #aot #snk fanfiction #snk

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red-dead-do-over246 · 3 years

Text

Bounty Hunting?

Arthur Morgan takes up bounty hunting as his new side gig (totally not an excuse to get Dutch off his back) and meets a woman unlike any other. He just hopes he’s good at keeping a secrets from her.

@crene-brooke

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Arthur told himself time and time again that he was no errand boy. However, everyone thinks that if they ask him to do something he will do it (which he would cause Arthur is a good boi). But with Dutch getting on his ass about needing more money, Arthur decided to take up bounty hunting.

He would get more money and not have to hear Dutch talk; it’s a win win.

So he got a bounty from the local sheriff for a man who peels off the faces of his victims, who were mostly women or lost travelers (also talks to squirrels but that’s not what the bounty’s for). The reward for brining him in would be around seven thousand dollars (that’s more than your head Arthur). The deranged man was last seen in an area around the base of the Grizzles somewhere in West Elizabeth. Arthur knew it would be a bit of a ride, so he grabbed his guns, saddled his horse, and got moving.

It was around half a day before Arthur reached the pine forests of northern West Elizabeth. Arthur began to ride towards the mountains and keep his eyes peeled for any, well, strange men. Since Arthur’s done a lot of hiding himself, he felt like he had a pretty good idea where the face peeler could be.

And his hunch was right.

It was a crevice between the base of two mountains. The face peeler obviously wasn’t very bright because once you’ve seen the area, it’s pretty hard to miss. Arthur smirked, proud of his own intelligence (for once). He got out his binoculars and saw that the face peeler was already committing the crime on a new victim; she appeared to be a young woman.

Arthur got out his gun, and was ready to descend upon the face peeler when he heard the click of a revolver right behind his head.

“Hands up, cowboy.” A feminine voice said. Arthur slowly raised his hands like she said.

“Now turn around.” Again, Arthur complied and slowly turned around on his knees. He came face to face with a revolver, but past that was a woman. She was decked out in a bunch of gear. Guns galore, knives, rope, and decked out in a full on, what Arthur would call, cowboy get up. The outlaw immediately got the feeling not to be disrespectful.

“I’m sorry ma’am.” Arthur slowly said. “I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“That man is my bounty, I’ve been tracking him for days and I don’t like strangers treading near my prey. How’d you find him?” She hissed while staring down at him.

“I stumbled upon him here.” Arthur said slowly while looking her in the eye.

“Don’t lie to me.” She growled while holding the revolver tightly. Arthur finally sighed and said, “Alright. Truth is, I picked up the bounty because I really need the money. I’m desperate.”

They stared at each other for a bit before she scoffed, lowered her gun, and whispered, “Amateur.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur asked as the woman went around him and began to crouch down near the entrance to the crevice. Arthur quickly snuck up next to her.

“So, who are you?” Arthur whispered. She rolled her eyes and said, “You really are naïve.”

“I’m a pretty renowned bounty hunter. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me.” The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“I’m just new to the business.” Arthur defended himself, praying that this woman didn’t recognize him. She huffed and stared back towards the face peeler. Before Arthur could question what was going on, the woman ran out from her hiding spot and quickly knocked the man on the back of his head with her gun. She held her revolver on him for a while before holstering it and looking around his camp.

Suddenly the man woke up and tackled her to the ground. Arthur ran out from his hiding spot and knocked the man off the woman. She quickly got back up and kicked him in the head. Then she shot him in the knee. He howled in pain, but she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thanks.” She muttered. Arthur smirked and said, “It was nothing.”

She tied the face peeler up, and then whistled for her horse. Arthur did the same and mounted when she mounted. The woman arched a brow at him.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Well we are splitting the bounty, right?” Arthur said smugly while beginning to ride back. She smiled for only a split second before riding after him.

The whole ride back was not as awkward as they thought. They were able to make some small talk and get to know each other. Arthur left the whole ‘outlaw’ part out though. They reached the sheriff, turned in the man, and collected their bounty.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad.” She said when they walked out of the building.

“The bounty, or the ride back?” Arthur asked. She laughed and said both.

“Where will you go now?” Arthur asked her while walking towards his horse.

“See what bounties the next town has.” She said while mounting her own horse. With a flick of the reigns, her horse took off. A realization then hit Arthur.

“Wait! I don’t even know your name!” Arthur called. With a tug, she flipped the horse around and yelled, “Y/N L/N!”

Then she was gone again. Y/N L/N, Arthur will remember that. He has a good memory after all. With a smile, he got on his horse, and rode back to camp. Surprise surprise, Dutch wasn’t that impressed with the money he brought in.

Meanwhile, the next town saw new bounties for you. One, however, stood out more to you then others. In complete disbelief, you stared at the piece of paper you held in your hands. A familiar face with WANTED under it.

Five thousand dollars.

Arthur Morgan.

#read dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Text

🔥Where Is Your Rider?🔥

A/N: HEY EVERYONE!!! So, I just wanted to thank you guys for the massive amount of support you guys have given me recently, I just managed to reach a pretty significant follower count!!! I don’t want to specify the number because I don’t want to make this into a competition, but I’m so happy and grateful for all of you guys and the love and support you have shown me! As promised, I plan to celebrate with a face reveal! I’ll specify when I’m going to do it (as I don’t know when I won’t be busy, lol) but it will happen soon! For now, enjoy this super angsty short one-shot I have written for you guys! This was supposed to be a really short drabble but because I have no self control whatsoever, this ended up being nearly 3,000 words instead of the 500 I planned for it. Also, this was inspired by the two songs, “Where is Your Rider?” and “Pale White Horse” by the Oh Hellos! I hope you enjoy, and again, thank you guys so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Pale White Horse” By: The Oh Hellos 🐉

Word Count: ~2.8k

~~~

Levi braced his hands on his knees, panting so hard his throat burned with dry fire. That had been close. Too close. To say that the expedition had been a nightmare would’ve been an understatement. It had been an absolute disaster. What was supposed to be a simple mission to retrieve some supplies from an abandoned battle station outside the walls had turned into chaos quicker than anyone could’ve ever anticipated as abnormals had surrounded them on all sides. Levi had tried his best to protect as many of his soldiers as he could, but even Humanity’s Strongest Soldier had been overwhelmed by the vast number of titans. Erwin had called for the retreat only minutes into the expedition, and yet they had still lost more men on this mission alone than they had during the past six months.

Levi closed his eyes, willing the tears back against the images of his fallen comrades, their broken bodies and screams of his name as they were devoured right in front of him. He had to stay strong, just for a little while longer. As soon as he got back within the walls and was able to retreat to his office, he would be allowed to break, to let loose the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. But for now, he had to be the pillar of strength that his remaining soldiers could look up to for hope and reassurance.

He sighed deeply, forcing down the bile that rose in the back of his throat, and raised his head, his eyes still closed as he prepared what he was going to say to his squad. When he finally felt ready enough to face them, he turned with his head held up high to the pitiful number of soldiers left on the field. He opened his mouth to talk when all of a sudden, he noticed something.

Her squad wasn’t back yet.

Levi’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his mouth hung open as the words of his quickly prepared speech were immediately thrown out the window, his mind clouded with worry.

“Where’s Captain (Y/N)? And her squad?” Levi asked, prompting the men around him to stop what they were doing and look to their raven-haired superior. It was obvious that Captain (Y/N) and Captain Levi were together, that much was apparent from Levi’s subtle favoritism and soothed demeanor when she was around, but their relationship was often overlooked due to the professional manner in which they regarded each other when working during the day. Nobody was privy to what occurred behind closed doors - the clingy, loving nature that Levi adopted around (Y/N) when they were alone.

Levi felt a cold tremor trickle down his spine when nobody answered, some of their faces paling as they suddenly remembered their Captain’s relationship, panic laced in their eyes when they realized that nobody could answer Levi’s question. “Did anybody see where they went? Or could make a guess on which direction they could’ve gone?”

Levi tried to keep his voice steady when silence once again answered him, only the soft murmuring of the cadets asking each other for information filling the space. His breathing quickened and shallowed, making him feel light-headed, but he shook the feeling away. He needed to stay focused if he was going to find her. She was going to be alright, she had to be. He wouldn’t accept any other option.

“Alright then, everybody stay here. Commander Erwin should be arriving with the rest of you in a moment. When he gets here, someone tell him that I’ve gone to look for them.”

He whirled on his heel when he was met with murmurs of acceptance, aiming for his horse until a quick flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized it was the movement of a horse racing for them, its hooves striking the ground with every beat as it galloped for them in a panic. Cold dread washed over Levi as the horse got closer, immediately recognizing the silvery white coat of (Y/N)’s stunning mare.

Levi was frozen in fear for the first time in his life as the horse came barreling towards him; riderless. He managed to snap out of it and quickly moved to intercept the horse, using his hands to jolt the frantic horse to a stop. Levi cooed at the mare, murmuring soft words of comfort as he approached her as slowly and non-threateningly as possible. When she had finally calmed down enough for him to touch her, Levi carefully curled his fingers around her reins and stood back to get a good look at the animal.

Her nostrils were flaring with every harsh breath she took, panting with both fear and exertion. Her eyes were wide enough to flash the whites around her irises at him, her gaze darting all around them as if expecting something to jump out at her. Levi felt his stomach clench hard enough to rip a whimper from him when he saw that her once gleaming silver coat was now soaked in sweat, mud, and fresh blood. Levi took a shuddering breath, his eyes closing.

“Danika, where is your rider?”

The mare’s only response was to jerk her head in panic, her ears pinned as she tried to rip herself from his iron grip. Levi bared his teeth, a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks. “WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR RIDER!?”

He knew shouting would only make things worse, but he couldn’t help himself, his fury and paralyzing fear driving him to the edge of insanity. Where was she? She had to be here, he wouldn’t accept this, couldn’t accept this. She was alive and well and perfectly fine, her horse was just acting crazy. It had to be some kind of trick, some kind of illusion meant as a punishment for the lives of the men he had lost.

He rubbed his eyes but to his horror, the image of blood soaking Danika’s fur didn’t disappear. He wanted to believe that it was Danika’s blood, that the poor animal had just been clawed up in battle, but he knew it wasn’t hers. She had no external wounds to speak of and the blood was pooled on top of her saddle and splashed along her flank rather than gouged from her flesh.

More tears started to stream down his face, the air in his throat hitching with every shaky breath he took. It wasn’t possible. No. She was alive. (Y/N) was alive. The love of his life was alive. Levi hung his head, his hair falling to curtain his expression as he choked on another sob. “Danika, please. Please. Where is your rider? Where is (Y/N)? She was with you, right? She has to be around here somewhere…”

He knew he must look deranged, talking to a horse and muttering to himself, but he didn’t care. All he cared about, in that moment, was finding out where the fuck his lover was. Another sob ripped through his body, his eyes squeezing shut even harder as more tears fell from behind his lids. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, so why was his heart shattering as if he already had?

The sudden touch of a warm muzzle brushing against his face made him flinch and look up, only to be met with the sight of (Y/N)’s silver mare, watching him with a deeply sorrowful expression that mirrored his own, as if she too was grieving the loss of her rider. Levi wanted to scream, wanted to chase the mare into the woods, wanted to slash titans until his body gave out, but he knew he couldn’t do any of those things. It wasn’t the horse’s fault, no matter how much he wanted someone to blame.

“Please,” he whispered, his fingers coming up to curl against Danika’s soft muzzle. “Please tell me she’s alive. Tell me she made it back with you, you just got scared and left her behind. Tell me that she’s going to be okay. I-I can’t live without her, please.”

He was begging now but he didn’t notice. He just wanted some damn reassurance, some comfort, some support - all of the things that (Y/N) usually provided for him when he felt helpless. But (Y/N) wasn’t with him and he was floundering. His eyes were glossy with tears as he looked deep into the mare’s eyes, begging with both his voice and his gaze for the horse to give him something, anything to work with.

“Levi,” the deep voice right beside him made him jump, too lost in his hysteria to notice that Erwin had slipped up next to him, his face dark and grim. Levi’s eyes were frantic as they searched Erwin’s gaze. He knew the Commander had seen (Y/N) last, her squad had been flanking his during their initial departure. Erwin swallowed. Hard.

“Levi, I’m so sorry but…” The Commander dug around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for and pulled out a small piece of fabric with (Y/N)’s name written on the back. It was (Y/N)’s wings of freedom patch. Levi carefully took the patch in both of his palms, tears flooding his cheeks as his whole body started to shake.

“S-She saved her squad, Levi. They were being chased by a hoard of abnormal titans and she darted off to act as bait. Her p-plan was solid, but there were just too many of them and they overpowered her,” Erwin said, his jaw clenching when he stuttered a few times, fighting back his own tears. He lifted a hand and rested it gently on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing once. “Levi, s-she’s gone.”

Levi immediately shook his head violently in response, refusing to believe it. She wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be. She had promised him that she would stay alive, that she would never leave him alone, especially after all he had lost. She promised. Erwin walked forward, hands outstretched to keep Levi from doing something rash, but he wasn’t fast enough as the raven crashed to the ground, collapsing under the weight of his grief.

A loud, miserable howl tore from his throat and filled the valley, making the soldiers around him flinch as they silently mourned, a few of them even beginning to shed tears as they watched their normally stoic, steadfast Captain break for the first time since they’d met him. Levi ignored everyone as he sobbed out for the world to hear, his head buried in his hands and his body shaking violently with the force of his sorrow.

He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to acknowledge what everyone was telling him was fact. He didn’t want to think about anything but getting her back in his arms as soon as possible. It was all he wanted, to feel her warmth pressed lovingly against him, to hear her murmur gentle words filled with more love than he’d ever expected to receive in his life, to see her eyes light up brightly whenever she saw him. Without her, he was nothing. He knew that if he accepted this, that he would be accepting the loss of his very soul. It was too much for him to handle, he had finally been broken.

The pain was unbearable, he couldn’t take it anymore. Without (Y/N) by his side, he had no will to live. Fuck fighting the titans, fuck finding a new, better world, fuck being Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. Fuck everything. None of it was worth it if (Y/N) wasn’t wrapped safely in his arms.

“Levi…”

He heard Erwin coo at him, his hand outstretched to guide Levi to his feet, but the raven quickly ripped his arm from the Commander’s grasp, his eyes filled with an icy fire that would make Death itself shiver.

“Lead the retreat, take my men back to the walls.”

“Levi, what are you-?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Levi snapped aggressively as he tore his cape from his back and draped it over Danika’s blood soaked saddle.

“Levi, (Y/N)’s dead. You need to come back with us, if you don’t, you won’t make it.”

“That’s the point,” Levi said as he pulled himself into the saddle, once again avoiding Erwin’s attempt to grasp him.

The blonde’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his jaw dropping at his Captain’s words. “If you think for one fucking second that I am going to let you kill yourself over some girl-”

“Don’t you dare speak about (Y/N) that way,” Levi said, his voice a deadly calm. “She is not just ‘some girl’. She’s the love and light of my life and I’m not leaving without her. I’m going to bring her back, no matter what it takes.”

Erwin opened his mouth to argue, but wasn’t even able to get the first word out before Levi had kicked Danika into a gallop, aiming right for the forest she had come from just minutes earlier. Nobody could do anything but watch as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier tore off into the woods, dread settling in their stomachs at the thought of having to fight without his support. Because they all knew, even if Levi made it, he would never be the same. Unless (Y/N) was somehow magically still alive, Levi would never be the same man he once was. His responsibilities and future didn’t matter to him anymore, not if they didn’t include his love.

Erwin sighed and shouted for his men to retreat, knowing that sending more men to retrieve Levi would only end in more casualties, by both titans and Levi himself. All he could do was trust that his friend could hold his own and would make it back. The soldiers of the remaining squads did as he asked without hesitation but the air was thick with tension as they galloped back to the walls, unsure of how to process the loss of their two strongest Captains.

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barzzal · 3 years

Text

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is.

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself.

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards.

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier.

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess.

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones.

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?”

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach.

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage.

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?”

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse.

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life.

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you.

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand.

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning.

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth.

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water.

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?”

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong.

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go.

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you.

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him.

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily.

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over.

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table.

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice.

He was just that damn good.

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that.

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself.

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning.

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on.

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back.

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly.

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice.

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know.

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.”

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more.

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods.

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom.

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice.

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed.

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest.

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad.

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together.

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times.

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring.

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere.

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch.

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago.

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.”

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out.

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention.

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.”

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction.

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief.

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye.

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.”

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way.

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible.

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.”

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say.

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes.

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him.

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you.

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it.

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it?

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door.

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being.

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame.

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze.

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more.

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.”

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.”

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself.

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him.

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head.

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air.

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.”

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself.

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end?

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

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everlesslahote1 · 3 years

Text

“Hey! look at me, I’m fine!” (Paul Lahote)

-HI, I BEG YOU GUYS TO REQUEST SOMETHING , ANYTHING PLEASE. I don’t have any ideas other then re-doing ones I already saw but I wanna be more bonded with my readers so, Thank You Lovely’s.

Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

(warning; forced contact, aggressive touching)

ALSO! everyone as imprints okay and I mean everyone in the pack.

-Enjoy!

If you would have told Y/N 11 months ago that she would be a imprint of the most vicious tempered wolf in the Uley “gang” everyone tend to talk up at school, she would have called a doctor asap.

But no... Here she was.

At a bonfire with the pack she now calls family and her hot headed lover on a Thursday night eating a hot dog and cracking jokes with Jared Cameron and Embry call, wrapped in Paul’s warmth.

“no seriously! Embry finally imprinted on someone!” Quil said patting his pack brother’s back and making Embry cheeks go pink.

“yea so now everyone has a imprint... even if they aren’t of age *cough* Jake, Quil” Jared choked out soon earning a rupture of laughter from around the fire.

It was all true though, every wolf in the Uley pack had imprints of their own.

Sam had Emily.

Paul had Y/N.

Jared had Kim.

Embry had a sweet girl by the name of Ameila that he met at the book store.

Jacob had Renesmee.

Quil had Claire.

Leah had a girl she met on a walk by herself by the name Emma.

Last but not least Seth had a girl from his Math class named Ava.

“ha ha very funny” Quil said with a straight face just as his 4 year old imprint (Claire Young) ran and jumped in his lap showing him a picture she just drew of him.

“Jared please remember I am stronger then” Jake spoke.

“oh yeah” Jared challenged slipping away from his imprint (Kim) gently hitting the back of Jake’s head.

Jake and Jared soon started horse playing in the grass as the other’s betted on who would pin who first.

“hey, imma go get a drink” Y/N whispered to Paul making him nod and place a soft kisses on her lips.

She stood up with pink cheeks, jumping over Jake and Jared and walked over the side of the house where all the drinks were.

She really didn’t know if she wanted juice that Billy supplied for the kids that were here or if she wanted to finally try a beer.

She tends to say she’s a big girl and that she can handle at least one beer, I mean how hard could it be? ‘Jared handles it’ and that’s the only reason she could come up with that she could handle it, so there she stood.

“in a giffy?” a deep voice said from the side of her, it didn’t feel right even hearing it so close to her but she didn’t wanna be rude. So she looked up to the tall raven hair man before looking back down at the drinks then speaking.

“uh heh, yea. does beer taste good?” She asked him.

“well how about we slip away and ill tell you all about it, hun” he said grabbing her forearm a little roughly.

Her breath was caught in her throat, Paul was never rough with her only if she asked him to be and even then he didn’t get as rough as this man.

Paul always made sure she was comfortable with anything he did around her because he knew how he could get if he wasn’t thinking

“N-no thank you, please let me go” she grabbed his hand trying to remove it kindly but it only made him grip her tighter , she fought to get his large tan hand off her arm to avoid having a bruise so Paul wouldn’t see.

She hoped and prayed that the man would back down because if her wolf was to see the physical way the man was handling her ,he would be beyond pissed.

“Oh come on princess, lighten up a little” he said pulling her closer to him making her bump into his hard chest, it was then she smelt the strong smell of the alcohol on his breath.

She was scared, even if she didn’t show it. The man was two times her size almost as big as Jacob and was firm, not buff just firm.

“Let me go!” she said with a little more volume ad force only to be quickly pulled away from the intoxicated being and for the man to be almost mercilessly thrown to the ground by a buff figure.

A figure she hoped she wouldn’t see in this situation she was dealing with.

A figure she knew all to well.

It was Paul.

Now beating this guy senseless like he had stole something and even though she didn’t agree with the man’s actions , she most certainly wasn’t pleased with her lovers actions either.

She’d been working with Paul’s control on his anger and even the pack could see the big change in Paul’s attitude, which they couldn’t lie kind of left everyone shook.

But when he saw this sick excuse of a man grab HIS Y/N so roughly after she asked him to let go, it caused him to back track and it set something off in the pit of him.

The trio was now being watched by everyone. It took Sam, Embry, Jared, Quil and Jake to get Paul off of the man before he killed him with his bare hands.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM” Paul yelled as Leah and Seth now dragged the bloody man to the street and left him for dead, they weren’t that type of people but hearing Paul’s thought on what he saw the man do to Y/N they didn’t care what happened to the man.

“Paul! Calm down now!” Sam said trying to calm to the younger boy but it’s like his inner wolf couldn’t he wanted to he just... couldn’t.

After almost breaking free Paul still couldn’t take a steady breath so Y/N took her stand in front of the yelling boy.

Grabbing his face , bringing it down to her small figure with both of her hands on each side of his face.

“Hey! look at me, I’m fine!” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes seeing the sparkle that was always there not dimmed not even a little bit making his breathing calm down.

Paul soon tried to get out of the packs grip to hold Y/N but they only gripped tighter in fear of him hurt their pack sister, like Sam did Emily.

Y/n looked sat Sam with a soft smile.

She knew how her lover could get when he was pushed the wrong way but she knew for a fact she was going to be fine.

“he’s fine” she said gently nodding as they let him go only for him to basically throw himself into Y/N small figure, wrapping his arm around her waist sticking his nose into her neck.

Smiling , she kissed his head gently while rubbing his back.

“I-I’m sorry Y/n I tried, I did but when he touched you I-I lost it and-” cutting her wolf’s words short with a loving kiss to remind him to breathe.

“It’s alright, I get it my love. Let’s get you home” she said gently making him nod pulling away from her but keeping hold of her hand and both saying their goodbye’s and sorry’s to everyone and the pack.

That night was ended with no words... just gentle actions, a relaxed Paul, and a warm Y/N.

- - -

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

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wretched heart [request]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Warnings: Language Summary: Despite ending things with Daryl, you still can’t seem to let go of him. (loosely inspired by Happier by Olivia Rodrigo) A/N: Requested by @srhxpci (angst with a happy ending 😊 ) I hope you enjoy. Tags: @chloe-skywalker @browneyes528 Italics = Flashbacks.

Your heart seemed to break into a million pieces as you walked away from Daryl, after everything that had happened with Negan and now with the loss of Rick you weren’t prepared to lose Daryl Dixon. You clawed at your chest, hoping it would allow you to breathe but it remained stuck as you left the archer there in the middle of the forest. You had never loved someone so deeply before and it scared you, it scared you to the point of running and hiding – you told him it wasn’t safe for them anymore and that even though it wasn’t your time now, it will be one day and you wholeheartedly believed it. The idea that the world will be well enough one day that you could get back your Daryl was the only thing that allowed you to get out of bed in the morning.

Thing’s got too much for you after you and Daryl went your separate ways and therefore you decided that you needed to venture out on your own for a while, perhaps look for Rick’s body or find out where Anne had disappeared. You didn’t have a set objective but you knew you needed the time to yourself. Tara tried to argue it was too dangerous for you to be on your own but failed to take into account the amount of time you had already spent alone out in the woods before meeting the group. Your trip didn’t provide much new information but you felt you had successfully cleared your mind enough to return back to Hilltop. You had been gone for maybe a month or two, you didn’t really keep track of the time but you didn’t think it could have been longer than that.

Once you reached the gate’s it didn’t take long for them to open, the guards seemed more than happy about your return, you gave your horse a stroke, thanking it for returning you back home safe before trotting past the gates. You watched as a few people gathered as you came to a stop, you looked around, happy to be home until your eyes landed on a far to familiar bike. A lump formed in your throat as you tried to redirect your attention, finally pushing yourself to get off the horse. You managed to send faux smiles at everyone who welcomed you home, allowing someone to take your horse to the stable. You looked around at the small crowd of people before returning your attention to Alden who offered you a warm hug. You pulled away and let your hand land on his shoulder. “Where’s Jesus?” your question seemed to strike unwell with Alden, his head dropped slightly before meeting with your gaze.

“He- erm” he struggled to pull together a sentence attempting to keep you updated on the situation at Hilltop, you instantly wished you were back out in the woods blissfully ignorant to the death of your friend. A small tear rolled down your face but you nodded towards the man, acknowledging his words.

You spent the rest of your day in your room, with the news on Jesus and seeing Daryl’s bike you figured that anything beyond your four walls weren’t worth the hassle. No one bothered you all day and you were grateful for that, you cleaned yourself up and got familiar with the comfort of your mattress again. When the sun started to set, you thought you needed to stop moping around, show your face even if its just for a few minutes. Thankfully on your travels you came across a half empty crate of alcohol, a bottle of rum seemed fitting for the situation so you grabbed it by the neck and made your way outside to mingle.

Fires had already started and you seemed to slip into the crowd of people unnoticed, everyone seemed to be in their own little groups or wandering around you unscrewed the cap of the rum and allowed the brown liquid to pour down your throat. You found a quiet spot just off from everyone else but it gave you the perfect view of everyone gathered there that night. Your eyes wandered from person to person until they seemed to freeze. Daryl Dixon. Your heart seemed to crawl up your throat as you watched the man fiddle with his fingers, attempting to master a sign but you didn’t pay much attention to that, instead you admired the way he had aged since you last saw him. Your mind flashing images of a younger archer and you came to the conclusion that he aged perfectly well, you’d giggle to yourself thinking about how he’d always be scared of the age gap you had even though no one else really noticed it nor did they care.

You noticed his smile and then you noticed who he gave it to, you’d never seen her before but you couldn’t disregard her beauty or the way her eyes seemed to shine as she laughed at Daryl’s attempts to communicate with her with his hands. Your heart dropped, it felt like it had completely left your body as you watched the two flirt with each other, your eyes welled up whenever she touched his arms all you could think was how they were your arms and not hers. So caught up with your blind jealousy, you almost didn’t notice that Daryl was now staring right back at you, it made you stumble a little but you shot him a smile before your eyes left him, doing anything you could to keep the tears from leaving your eyes.

The alcohol seemed to help loosen the lump in your throat as you chugged down as much rum as you possibly could before it made you feel sick “Hey” you’d know that gravelly voice anywhere, it sent goose bumps up your arms as you lowered the bottle back to you side, clearing your throat as you looked to your side. Your heart seemed to race at the sight of the archer who stood close by you

“Hey” your voice was much softer as your eyes landed on his shoulders, not brave enough to look into his eyes just yet. The tension could have been cut with a blunt knife, you kicked loose stones under your feet as the southerner struggled to think up a conversation. “How ya been?” he broke the silence finally with a question he genuinely cared to know, he watched you closely as you scoffed at his words. “Fine” despite your short temper, you allowed yourself to look into Daryl’s eyes now sending him a faux smile. “Whatta bout you? Saw you getting on nicely with that girl over there, what’s her name?” you hated how bitter you sounded in that moment but it seemed the alcohol had taken over your entire attitude failing to incorporate a filter. “Connie” Daryl muttered back at you, watching you take yet another sip of your poison. Your eyes widened now you had a name for her face, licking the access rum from your lips. “She’s pretty” the air fell silent around you both now, you tried to fight every urge to shout and scream that he should be with you and not her.

Eventually you couldn’t hold your tongue anymore, you had far too much liquid confidence supporting your toxic words to even think straight anymore “Does this mean you forgot about me?” despite your intentions your words fell soft as you stared into the crowd of people, your leg shaking a little as you awaited his response but you never got one, instead he just stared at you in disbelief “I always thought that one day we’d get back together you know but I can see that’s not on you agenda” you spat at the man, the anger becoming more apparent with every word. Daryl grunted at your words, his scowl creasing his features. “Na, ya the one who ended shit!” he became extra expressive with his movements, his finger pointing in your direction as he paced back and forth. “because it wasn’t safe!” you shouted back in his direction, your face mimicking his “You know what it’s like now as soon as you’re even slightly happy, the thing you love the most is taken from you without warning. I’ve lost too much, I couldn’t lose you too!`` At some point you decided to take a softer approach with your honesty taking a deep breath when you finally split your truth.

The moment fell quiet once more, a tear created a track on your face as you turned away from him you crossed your arms keeping a firm hold on the bottle you babysat all night. “I'm happy you found Connie, you deserve it.” You peeked over your shoulder so that the archer could hear you “I just don’t think I could ever be as happy as I was when I was with you” and with those words you left him there as you made your way back to your room.

When the door closed behind you, you found yourself pressed against the wall beside it, trying your hardest to suppress the tears your eyes held onto. You placed the glass bottle on top of your dresser and attempted to ease your breathing and slow the hard heavy beating of your heart. It seemed to stop completely when you heard someone’s knuckles brush against your door, you stood perfectly still for a moment before you reached for the knob. You slowly pulled it open revealing Daryl stood on the other side, you stared up at him in silence and took in his posture, he seemed a little out of breath, like he had been running which only confused you more. “Me an Connie are jus friends' ' he panted, taking a couple of steps so that he was now fully in your room. You couldn’t deny that your heart seemed to burst with joy at the news but now you were just left completely embarrassed by your outburst. “Ya the only girl for me” you allowed a small chuckle to pass your lips but you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him, pushing at the back of his neck with your hands to pull him into a soft, sweet kiss. You tried to hide the moan that surfaced as his hands cradled your hips. You were completely weak at his touch, god had you missed the way this felt.

He pulled away slowly, taking in the smile that stretched across your face, allowing a small smile of his own to pierce his stern features “Ya taste like a bar” “I'm sorry!” you winced attempting to pull away from the redneck but he didn’t allow you, he kept you close and pulled you in tighter when you attempted to leave his grasp.

“Na, I like it”

#daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl fanfiction #norman reedus fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon fanfic

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ibis-gt · 3 years

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i made a fairytale au for cam and luther and then wrote nearly 5k words of fic for it?? which is wild bc i am not much of a writer. but. that’s under the cut. content warning for a pretty violent scene towards the end but there’s a happy ending i prommy

Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince, Luther by name, lived in a kingdom that was plagued by monsters. His father, the king, had gained his throne by feats of heroism, most notably by slaying a fearsome dragon that had ruled the land for years. The time came for Luther to prove he was worthy of the title of prince by slaying a monster of his own…

Down in the countryside, farmers have been complaining for weeks of an ogre stealing their cattle and frightening their children. So Luther sets off in a splendid suit of armor, with a sword sheathed on one hip, a quiver of arrows on the other, and his bow slung on his back.

Luther rides his horse down to the village where the ogre was last spotted. He talks with the locals and gets a description of the creature. At least forty feet tall, they say, with greenish-grey skin and dark hair and teeth the length of a man’s forearm. Luther leaves his horse behind with the farmers because he doesn’t want her getting hurt and marches off, following a set of giant footprints left behind by the ogre, sword in hand. He would have to admit that he isn’t the best at sword fighting, and that really he’s never faced a monster on his own. But his father gave him a crucial tip: every monster has a weak point. Find the weak point, exploit it, and you’ll win every time.

The footprints lead through the plains of grass, past the area where the farmers let their cattle out to graze, and into a dark forest. The sun is going down before he manages to find the ogre, so he sets up a little camp with a little fire and rests his tired bones. His armor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it takes forever to get on and off even with someone helping him, let alone by himself. He sits with his back to a big boulder so nothing can sneak up behind him and eventually drifts off.

Luther awakens the next morning and groans at how stiff and sore he is. He sits up and pauses, brow furrowed, remembering that he’d gone to bed sitting upright. But just now, he’d been lying on his back. And he’s not the best tracker, but those giant footprints look… disconcertingly fresh. These things add up in his mind. He just about passes out. He crouches down and puts his head between his knees for a moment until he can breathe again and his heart stops pounding quite so hard. He was right next to it! He fell asleep leaning on it! If his father heard about this he’d give him such a beating. How could he not have noticed that the boulder was actually -

His stomach rumbles, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and Luther remembers that the last time he ate was back in that farming village around two in the afternoon yesterday. He digs out a bit of beef jerky and morosely works at it. His father swears by the stuff, but it just makes his teeth hurt. Luther dreams of the kitchens back home and drools a little.

He gives up on the jerky and manages to take down a couple squirrels with his bow and arrows. He gets his fire blazing again and sets them cooking over it, and sits down to draw in the dirt and form a battle plan. He gets wrapped up in his drawing and loses track of time, but is startled violently back to reality as a deep booming voice from behind him says, “Your squirrel’s burning.”

Luther’s eyes snap up to the fire. He hastily pulls the stick with his squirrels off of it, waving it in the air to put out the bit of squirrel that had caught fire. He blows on it and inspects the damage. Not too bad, a little charred. Still definitely edible. Then realization dawns, and he slowly looks up and over his shoulder.

That’s the ogre. He’s unmistakable. Huge, greyish-green, with shaggy black hair and big tusks that jut out of his mouth. He’s down on one knee looming over Luther, modesty barely preserved by a loincloth stitched together out of the pelts of many different furry animals. Luther wills himself to not faint for the second time that day.

“You gonna eat that?” The ogre booms. “’Cause I will if you won’t.”

“W-well, yes, I was planning to,” Luther quavers, “But there are two, so, um, you can have one if you want? We can share?”

He takes the non-burned squirrel off the stick and holds it up. His hand only shakes a little. The ogre takes it carefully between thumb and forefinger and tosses it in his mouth. With such a tiny morsel, he’d usually just swallow it whole, but an interesting flavor makes him stop and savor it for a moment.

“What’d you do to it? Not like any squirrel I’ve eaten. And I’ve eaten a whole army of squirrels.” He slaps a hand on his formidable belly. The sound makes Luther jump.

“I- I didn’t do much, j-just some seasoning, I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, please don’t eat me next."

"You?” The ogre laughs. “Why would I eat you? You shared your food with me. That’s mighty polite. I’d say that makes us friends now, and I don’t eat friends.” He grunts as he shifts position, sitting down heavily and stretching out his legs. “Bad knees,” he grumbles. “Sat like that too long, but I wanted to see what you were drawing."

Luther is now horrifically aware that he is directly between the ogre’s legs. He is also horrifically aware that he was drawing himself hitting an ogre with a sword. He hurriedly kicks some dirt over it.

"Nothing. Nothing interesting. I’m a bad artist anyway.”

“Sure. What’s your name, little tin man? You didn’t seem too talkative when you snuggled up to me last night, but I thought maybe you were just tired. I’m Cam."

"L-Luther.” Oh god. He was supposed to kill this thing, it - well, no, not ‘it’, he can’t think of Cam as an ‘it’ now he knows his name - he’s terrorizing folks, stealing their livelihoods, he’s supposed to drive him away, save the day, bring peace to the kingdom. Instead he’s sharing his meager breakfast and making friends with the monster. How did it all go so wrong!!

“So, Luther, you made of metal? I thought you were gonna take all that off, looks pretty uncomfortable, but you wore it all night. Unless it’s like… you?"

"No, no, um, it’s just… it takes a long time to put it on and take it off? And I usually need help.”

"Well shoot, friend, why didn’t you say so?“ Before Luther can object, a giant hand descends and plucks him up. He panics, struggles in Cam’s grasp, and Cam tsks at him. "I can’t get all that off you if you don’t hold still. Don’t make me squeeze."

Luther goes still. If Cam squeezes the armor, it’ll stay squeezed. He wouldn’t want to still be in it if that happens. Cam clearly has no idea how to get someone out of armor though. He just pulls at clasps and buckles till they break, then shucks the metal off of Luther like an ear of corn. His helmet comes off first, freeing his dark brown curls.

“Aww,” Cam says, “lookit you. You’re kinda cute for a tin man.” He musses up Luther’s hair with a fingertip. "You’re like a little crab,” Cam chuckles. “Crack open the hard shell to get to the soft stuff underneath.” The food metaphor does not put Luther any more at ease as the rest of his armor is pulled off and tossed aside, piece by piece. Cam even strips the chainmail off of him and dumps it on the ground. This leaves Luther in his shirt and breeches, shaking like a leaf and terrified for his life.

“Oh, you cold? Here, I gotcha.” Cam sandwiches him between his hands. Luther awaits the pressure and the horrible crunch that will no doubt be the end of his short life, but it never comes. Cam just holds him there, and truth be told his hands are very warm, and it had been a chilly morning. Luther relaxes very slightly.

After a few minutes, Cam lifts one hand a little and peeks at Luther. “Better?"

"Much better, thank you. Even a little too warm, actually? Can I, um, come out now?"

Cam laughs and opens his hands like a book, then tilts them so Luther tumbles into the palm of his left hand. "So what’s a fancy little shrimp like you doing all the way out here, with that tough shell and those sharp weapons? You huntin’ something?"

Luther hesitates. It’s not… technically a lie, just an omission of truth, right? "Yeees…. Hunting.”

Cam laughs out loud, leaning back and slapping his knee with his free hand. “HA! You are just about the worst liar I ever met, Luther. Whew.” He actually wipes a tear from his eye. Luther feels his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.

“I am hunting! I’m hunting you!” As soon as he says it he regrets it. He slaps his hands over his mouth and cowers back as Cam sits up straight again and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“That so? Huh. Well, you found me, oh mighty hunter. And you fed me, and let me take your armor off you, and left all your sharp things on the ground while you sit in the palm of my hand. So, uh… how’s that goin’ for ya?”

“It… I… um… please don’t kill me?”

Cam grins. It’s not a nice grin anymore. It shows off too many teeth. “Lotsa folks have hunted me, you know. Not a one has succeeded. Most of ‘em can’t find me in the first place, not unless I want them to. Neat little trick we ogres have. We blend in well. The ones who did find me, they regretted it pretty quick. When I heard you clanking along with your silly armor and your little sword, I thought oh boy, here comes another one. But it turns out this one couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map, so he ain’t one of them legendary monster hunters lookin’ to claim some bounty. And he’s a little scrawny slip of a thing, too, and he keeps stopping to look at birds. I kinda liked you. And honestly, when you found me, it took me by surprise. Thought I had you pegged all wrong. Then you made your little fire, curled up next to me, and went to sleep, and it took everything I had not to bust my gut laughing right then and there. And now… well, I don’t rightly know what to make of you. Cute little thing, I know that. But cute won’t save you if you wanna tussle with me. So, little hunter… what’re you gonna do now?”

Luther’s nearly in tears. He manages to say, “Then… were you just… toying with me? This whole time? Waiting to see what I’d do?"

Cam shrugs. "Pretty much.” That does it. The waterworks are in full swing. Luther’s chin trembles, his lower lip wobbles, and then tears are streaming down his face and he’s sobbing.

“Y- you’re s-so-ho meeeaaaan,” Luther wails. “Y-you’re j-just making f-fun of me, I thought w-we were friends!”

Cam has absolutely no idea how to respond to this. For some reason he actually feels guilty. “Aw - no - now look, there’s no call for - just… just stop crying, okay? Please?” Luther continues to sob, heedless of Cam’s pleading. “There, there,” Cam tries, patting Luther’s head. “I’m not going to kill you. Okay? How’s that? I’m sorry I called you - well. All those things. I’m sure you’re a great hunter. Look, you got those squirrels. And hey! That one I ate tasted great. You got some real skill there."

Luther wipes his eyes and looks up, teetering dangerously on the edge of another sobbing fit. His eyes are all watery and a little red-rimmed. "R-really?"

"Yes! Of course!” Cam clings to the compliment like a life preserver. “I bet you’re like, like the king’s cook or something, right? Cause you’re the best in the land?"

Luther’s face crumples a little and he looks down, mutters something.

"What?” Cam holds him up a little closer to his ear.

“’m his son,” Luther mumbles again.

“His son? You’re a prince? And you’re all - oh, hell.” Now he’s really put his foot in it. Luther bursts into tears again and curls up in a little ball.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - oh, ugh, you’re getting my hand all wet.” Cam picks him up between thumb and forefinger and shakes the little tear droplets off his palm. “Now look here,” he says, attempting a sterner approach. “You’re a prince, all right? You can’t be crying and going to pieces just ‘cause some big bad monster was mean to you. You gotta kill big bad monsters, right? So here’s what you’re gonna do.” Cam sets him down gently, picks up his sword and hands it to him. “There you go. You’re gonna take that sword, right, and you’re gonna really let me have it. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?“

Luther purses his lips and looks up at him. "But… all I can hit from here is your foot. That’s no good. I need a shot at something vital."

"Oh fine, fine, Mr. Picky,” Cam grumbles. He shuffles his legs to the side and leans down til he’s practically laying on his belly. “Face shot. Free one for ya. Go on, hit something good.” Luther considers. Just as Cam realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is, he draws his sword back and plunges it into Cam’s eye.

- Almost plunges it into Cam’s eye. The ogre moves suddenly, turning his head to the side to avoid the blow. Luther makes a deep gash in Cam’s cheek, and Cam roars. “Oh, you sly little shit. Very good, very sneaky. You almost had me there. Fine. We do this the hard way.”

He gets to his feet, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and looks down at the dirt where Luther was a moment ago. Cam blinks in surprise. “Where’d you… goddammit…” He looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Luther could’ve gotten to.

Luther was not about to let the golden opportunity to run and hide during a big dramatic show of power go to waste. He slides into a patch of underbrush, catches his breath, and takes stock. He has no armor, no food, no bow or arrows. Those are all back at his camp, which is currently ogre territory. He has one sword that he’s okay at using. The ogre has the homefield advantage, and some kind of ability, possibly magical, to hide himself from those who want to find him. Luther shouldn’t let him out of his sight. But he should work on camouflaging himself. He takes a handful of dirt and smears it on his face and shirt. The sword he can’t do much about, he’ll just have to try and keep it from glinting. He glances to his left, away from where Cam still stands, turning in circles and peering around. Luther had only gone a little ways into the woods before he stopped for camp last night. He can almost see the forest’s edge from here. He could dart for the grasslands and try to make it back to the village, but he’d be in plain sight as soon as he’s out of the trees and there’s no guarantee Cam won’t just follow him all the way back. The further he goes into the trees the more firmly he is in Cam’s territory, but the more coverage he has.

Possibilities begin swirling around in his head. His best bet is trickery rather than a face to face confrontation. He’s got a running list in his mind of Cam’s weak points now. Food, monologuing, emotional outbursts. Although that last one’s probably off the table now. Bursting into tears isn’t going to get him out of a second pinch. Bad knees - if he can trip Cam up, he can get a shot at his face again, maybe cut his throat or get at his soft belly and sides. Cam’s a talker and likes to gloat, maybe if he gets him distracted by looking pathetic he could get him to walk right into a trap of some kind. He likes food… but Luther doesn’t have the resources to make a big feast to distract him or sate him, just a pouchful of seasoning that he never leaves home without. His lip wobbles again as he thinks about how that’s back at his camp… he may never see his precious seasonings again.

Meanwhile, Cam is getting frustrated. “Well, the little shit can’t have gone far,” he grumbles. “Just gotta flush 'im out.” Luther watches, petrified, as Cam lumbers over to a nearby patch of underbrush and without warning stomps down on it hard, twisting his foot and smashing every inch of it. He steps back and leans down to inspect what’s left. Luther bites his lip hard to stifle a whimper.

“Nope, not there,” Cam announces. “Eeney, meeney, miney…..” Another bunch of bushes are mercilessly ground into the dirt. “Moe. Hmmm. Where are you?”

Luther can’t stay in his hiding place for long. It’s only a matter of time before Cam gets to him. He needs an opening to make a break for it though, if he runs now Cam will spot him right away. As slowly as he dares, he picks up a large, flat rock, then skims it like a frisbee off to his right, where it hits a tree with a satisfying thock. Cam whirls around, and Luther bolts out of the brush. Cam hears the leaves rustling and turns back around, catching sight of him as he flees.

“There you are! Hold on now, don’t go running off! I just wanna talk, I swear. The whole monster-slaying prince thing not working out for ya? I got a better job offer! You can be my dinner!” Luther keeps sprinting as fast as he can, not even bothering to glance behind him. The last thing he needs is to miss a fallen branch or a groundhog hole and trip.

On flat, open land, the ogre would outpace him easily. But if he can get deeper into the forest where the trees are closer together, that could slow him down enough for Luther to get some distance and hide again, have a moment to breathe and think so he can work on his plan. He’s starting to get an idea of what he’ll need. He needs the element of surprise for sure, and he needs more than just his sword. If he had some rope he could set up a tripwire, maybe. He curses himself for not taking his father’s advice about packing, for letting Cam strip him, for being too weak and scared to do anything when he had the chance, for being born in the first place. His eyes well up with tears and he scrubs at them furiously. He can’t afford to have his sight blurred right now, he needs to keep his head clear and keep moving. He can hear Cam’s thudding footsteps behind him, gaining quickly. He can cover so much more ground in a single step. It’s simply not fair. The little bit of distance he was able to gain with his rock trick is disappearing fast and it won’t be long before he’s in arm’s reach.

Almost as if he can read his thoughts, Cam lunges forward and takes a swipe at him, trying to knock him off his feet. Luther hits the deck and Cam overbalances, stumbling and crashing into a tree. The tree snaps when his weight collides with it, and Cam has to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. Luther scrambles to his feet and keeps running. He even manages to put on an extra burst of speed when he hears Cam roar with frustration behind him. He’s not as fast as he could be because he’s lugging the sword along with him, but he doesn’t dare drop it. It proves its usefulness in the next minute. Cam closes the distance and grabs for him. Luther sees the shadow fall over him and whirls around, lashing out at the reaching hand. He slices across Cam’s palm, and Cam howls with pain and pulls back. Luther dashes away, and Cam stomps his foot in frustration.

"Hold still, dammit! You’re just making it worse for yourself!” He takes off after Luther again, but his stamina’s flagging. It’s harder for a creature his size to haul himself around and he’s used to running down his prey in the first minutes of the chase. This has dragged on long enough to tire him out, but he’s not willing to give up just yet. “When I get my hands on you, tin man, you’re paste,” he growls. “They’re gonna have to come up with new words for how dead you’re gonna be.”

The trees start getting close enough together that Luther has to dodge around them from time to time. He can hear Cam behind him crashing through them, spluttering as he gets a face full of branches and leaves. Luther smiles to himself. That’s nice, at least. At last he gathers up his nerve and dodges to the side behind a particularly large tree, hoping that Cam’s too busy navigating the foliage to notice. His gamble pays off. A few seconds later, the ogre goes lumbering past him without so much as a sideways glance. Luther waits just a moment more, then bolts in the opposite direction.

He’s got a plan now. He probably won’t be able to find Cam again, but Cam can find him. So he’ll set up an ambush. He circles back around to his camp and grabs his supplies as quickly as he can, his bow and arrow, his helmet, his tinderbox, and most importantly, his seasoning. He hunts for deer, takes down a decent-sized buck, and sets up a new campfire, deep in the woods, where the trees are close. He’s hoping that Cam will think that Luther thinks he’s safe in there, and that the smell of the meat cooking will lure Cam in. He takes off his shirt and fills it with twigs and leaves, sets his helmet up on a stick driven into the ground, and makes a decently convincing decoy Luther that he leans against a log. The helmet tilts at an angle that makes it look like he’s fallen asleep. With that set up, and night closing in, Luther climbs up a nearby tree and waits, sword in hand.

He doesn’t watch the fire. He wants to keep his night vision sharp. And sure enough, before too long here comes Cam, moving surprisingly quietly for his size. He squeezes through the trees with barely a rustling of leaves. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the fire and the silhouette that the decoy makes against it. Cam gets right behind the decoy and slams his foot down on it. He grinds it into the dirt with a relish that makes Luther shudder. Then Cam looks at the deer cooking with that lovely smell rising off it, and his eyes go big and shiny. As Cam bends down to pick it up, Luther chooses his moment. He drops like a stone and buries his sword lengthwise in the back of Cam’s neck. The impact sends a jolt up his arms and he hangs on as tight as he can. Cam lets out a garbled scream of pain and collapses face first on the ground. Luther gets to his feet, pulls his sword out with some difficulty, takes a deep breath, and begins to chop.

It’s messy, horrible work. By the third swing tears are rolling down Luther’s cheeks. By the seventh, he’s sobbing. After the twenty-third cut, Cam’s head is finally severed, and rolls to the side. Luther stumbles back. He’s trembling, covered in blood, panting and crying, but it’s finally done.

And then Cam’s head says, “Wow, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Luther watches, dumbfounded, as Cam’s body sits up, searches around with its hands, locates his head, and puts it back on his shoulders as the flesh knits together again. Luther drops his sword in disbelief. He falls to his knees. That was it. That was all he had. He can’t even imagine what he could do against a foe who can just reattach his own head.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Okay. Um. Make it quick, please?” Cam had been planning to crunch the little shit once he was back on his feet, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at how despondent Luther looks.

“Aw, no, no, don’t give up so quick! Really, you almost had me!” Cam scoops him up and pats him on the head. “Look, it was a good effort. I’m sure if you had known I can’t be killed, you wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy trying to kill me. Just do a little more research next time, yeah?"

"Next time,” Luther repeats, and gives a hollow laugh. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not welcome as part of the royal family if I can’t kill a monster. Even my sister’s done her first slaying already. A whole nest of vampires! And I can’t kill one measly ogre."

"Hey, watch who you’re calling measly,” Cam warns, but his heart isn’t in it. “Jeez. You’ve got some issues, kid. Not much of a fighter, I take it?"

Luther shakes his head and sighs. "I’m just not very good at it."

"Well they chose one hell of a first mission for you, that’s for sure. Ogres are tricky ones. We’ve got a lot of defense mechanisms.” Cam thinks for a moment. “You know what you are good at, though? You’re a good talker. Very convincing. I mean, you really had me going, with the crying and all? It was a really good ruse."

Luther bites his lip. "Um…"

"Okay, so it was for real and not a ruse. But you made the best of a bad situation! That’s also a good skill for a ruler to have. You just gotta show your family that your skills are less conventional, but still effective! Like, okay, why do you have to kill me? What’d I do?"

“You’re eating all the farmers’ cattle and scaring people."

"I thought free range meant I had free reign. Eh? Eh?” Cam pokes Luther in the ribs. Luther frowns at him. “Oh, fine, whatever. No sense of humor. You know, that’s pretty important for a king too. Yeah, all right, I’ll leave the cows alone."

"And the sheep,” Luther says sharply. “And the pigs, and chickens."

"I haven’t eaten any pigs or chickens,” Cam protests.

“Not yet. I’m being proactive."

"There you go!” Cam says, beaming. “There’s that negotiator skill! But seriously, if I can’t eat the cows and sheep I’ve got to eat something. Can you make it worth my while? 'Cause I’m not going back to squirrels."

"Well…” Luther says slowly. “What if… I hire you?"

"You… hire me?"

"Yeah. Like, as a bodyguard or something. Then I’d have to pay you, right? I could pay you in food?”

Cam is quiet for a moment. He brings Luther up closer to his face and scrutinizes him. Luther’s heart is pounding out of his chest. For a moment he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake and offended Cam and it’s all over for him. "You’re serious? Not kidding me, here? That’s your offer?”

“Y-yes? Is that… is it bad?"

"Bad? Bad? That’s the best offer I’ve ever heard! Pay me in food? HELL yes, kid! That’s what I like to hear!” The force of Cam’s enthusiasm knocks Luther over on his back. He stares at the sky for a moment. His life is so goddamn weird.

~~~~~~~~~

Luther’s father’s dragon slaying days are behind him. He’s an old man now. He has good days and bad days, but even on his best days he frequently needs help getting around. But when he sees that giant ogre enter his royal halls, he reaches for his spear. Luther eases it out of his hand.

“No, see, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, but I stopped him terrorizing the countryside, and I kind of… hired him. As my bodyguard. This was easier, and we both benefit, see? Also, um, were you going to tell me ogres are immortal?"

"You were supposed to figure something out,” his father says. “Since you’re so damned smart."

"Well, I did figure something out. Just… maybe not what you wanted me to."

Cam waves lazily. "Hi, Yer Majesty."

"Cam,” Luther hisses. “We talked about this."

"Oh, fine, fine,” Cam grumbles, and takes a knee to bow low before the king. “I humbly pledge my service to your son,” he intones, hamming it up just a little. “Please allow me to protect him from all harms, and so on."

The king glares. His stabbing hand is itching. But he doesn’t currently have a better plan, and this’ll keep the peasants quiet for a bit. "Fine,” he spits, “But you’re taking care of him. Feeding him, walking him, cleaning up after him, whatever. No getting the servants to do it for you. He’s your responsibility now."

Cam grins at Luther. "So, speaking of feeding… when’s dinner?”

#art #writing #giant tiny #g/t #cam and luther #fairy tale au #to be more specific re: content warnings there is a beheading but he gets better so it's okay #tiny knights are very important to me as u can clearly see #there's just something about. someone who is sworn to protect others going up against a force so much larger than themselves #EDIT mobile hates readmores sorry if u get a three mile long post on yr dash :(

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

Paper Surprise part 2

Follow on from: Paper Surprise

Just want Miguel to have a happy ending cause I love him. Thank you @beccabarba for reading over it to see if it was ok before I posted it.

Warnings: Smut.

WC: 2511.

Enjoy x

You were walking around the gallery doing some final touches on the multiple art works hanging around the walls while the catering staff set up the food and drinks. You made sure all the lights over each piece of work was on, there was no dust on them and they were hanging straight. You had just walked into the break room to put on your heeled boots when you heard the bell of the front door,

“Sorry we’re closed” You walked out of the room pushing your skirt down over your stockings and you stopped in your tracks freezing. You pulled your glasses off your face to make sure you weren’t seeing things,

“Y/N” His voice sent a shiver down your spine just like the night on the beach just a couple of years ago. You stood there raising an eye brow at him and crossing your arms in front of yourself leaning into one hip “I was hoping you still worked here”

“What are you doing here Marcus? Wait no, I mean Miguel”

Miguel walked over to you resting his hand on your elbow. You didn’t shy away from his touch and a smile pulled to his face. You looked down at his long fingers resting over your clothed elbow before your eyes scanned up his arm, up to his neck, over his bearded face and locking eyes with him,

“I want to talk to you. That night at the club. You haven’t left my mind” he sighed.

“But you lied to me” you snapped back.

“And I’ am sorry I did, but I didn’t have a choice, I thought if I changed my name- I was naïve, it’s the biggest club in Cabo it was going to catch up with me”

You snorted and nodded your head at him.

“The opening is in 20 minute’s”

“Meet me after? Please?” Miguel titled his head looking down at you “The café on the next block over- midnight?”

You looked up into the sea of brown, your knees trembling threatening to give way and you instantly felt comfortable despite knowing about him.

“Ok” your voice was horse till you cleared it and you nodded.

Miguel lent forward, his warm lips landing on your boiling hot cheek. You sighed into them, your eyes closing for a brief moment before he pulled away giving you a quick wink and turning on his heels to walk out the door. You stood there frozen watching as he walked out, getting into a black SVU and it driving off.

Before the opening you had messaged Alice letting her know what had happened and giving her the details of the meet up, just to be on the safe side. You flicked the gallery lights off at 11.45, walking out and locking the door, a big smile planted on your face at how successful the show was and how pleased your boss was that you had managed to secure buyers for every piece, all deposits paid in cash within a couple of hours.

As you made the short walk to the café, you stopped at the store front next to it, looking at your reflection. You fixed your white button down in your skirt and you hooked you hair behind your ears. You opened your bag pulling out your gloss, quickly reapplying some and walked to the door opening it and walking in.

Your eyes scanned the dim, somewhat crowded room, when you found Miguel sitting in the back corner looking directly at you. You weaved your way through the tables and he stood up as you got him, walking around the table to greet you. Miguel lent over kissing your cheek and then he moved the chair out for you to sit down and he sat down across from you. You both put in your orders and then sat back in your chair looking at Miguel leaning on the table,

“How was the opening?”

“Great. Sold all the pieces” you smiled at him.

“Congratulations. Thank you for meeting me Y/N”

“No worries. What did you want to talk about?”

Miguel took a deep breath licking his lips “I want to explain why I gave you a different name. I want you to see me for me, not for anything you have read or heard”

You sat there and listened on as Miguel explained everything to you. About his family, about him, about the bad things he done without going into detail, about his marriage, why he left Santo Padre and what happened in the last two years.

“Ok” you took a deep breath sitting up in your chair leaning on the table “That’s a lot to take in. You have a very colourful past Mr Galindo”

“I do, I have a lot of regrets. I didn’t want to add you to the list Y/N. That night- it felt amazing to be wanted again, for me”

“I’ am not going to lie, you haven’t left my mind since then. Even after everything I read. But what are you doing now?”

“Helping out with club in the Height’s, hopefully opening another one and running that”

You nodded and fell silent for a moment, sitting back in your chair, “Legit business?” you said out loud and Miguel nodded back.

“For the first time in my life. Y/N, I can understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after lying to you and you hearing all that. It’s a lot and I did a lot of things I’ am not proud of and still haunt me. But I didn’t want to lie to you again. I didn’t want to hide anything if you do decide to give me a chance and if you don’t I’ll never disturb you again, but I’ll never forget you”

“Are you really done with that life?” Miguel nodded back.

“Sleep on it” Miguel grabbed your hand. "I’ll be at the club tomorrow night covering a private function. If you show up, that’s your answer”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then that’s your answer” Miguel squeezed your hand.

***

You walked into the club when most people should be sleeping. You had a talk with Alice and she told you to go for it,

“Y/N, it’s been two years! He’s done more than enough to prove himself and he has been honest with you, what more do you need?”

You walked into the overly loud, overly crowded room getting up on your tippy toes to try and see over the sea of heads looking for the private room. You noticed the ‘Private Function’ sign and started to make your way through the crowd. You made it to the bar standing in line when you felt an arm come around your waist and a pair of lips at your ear,

“Guess I have my answer” You smiled wide and turned, coming face to face with Miguel “See those stairs over there” Miguel nodded towards the side of the room “Go up and wait for me”

“Ok” you nodded and smiled.

You stood up in the office space looking out the big roof to floor window, looking down at the dancing crowd, the strobe lights flashing and bouncing off the walls and the bar que 20 people long. You saw Miguel walk out of the private room and to the bar saying something to the bar tender, who hurried off and he looked up at you giving you a wink before the bar tender was back handing him a bottle and two glasses and he started to walk across the dance floor.

You were tapping your foot to the beat of the music when Miguel walked in through the door closing it behind him and walking to the desk sitting the bottle of wine and the glasses on it. He was behind you in a flash, his arms going to wrap around your waist pulling you back into him. You bit your bottom lip as he kissed up your bare shoulder, the feeling of his beard brushing on your skin making you giggle and squirm against him,

“You came” Miguel purred into your ear “I’ am glad”

You turned your head, looking out of the corner of your eye at him, a grin pulling to your face.

“I’ am glad I did too”

You pushed back into him and a growl escaped him, pushing his crotch into you. You wriggled your hips over his hardening cock and his arms around you tightened.

“I promise you, Y/N” one of his hands ran up to cup your breast over your shirt and the other ran down to your thigh toying with the hem of your skirt “I will be completely honest with you”

You moaned nodding your head. Miguel’s hand slid up your skirt, up the inside of your thigh.

“And” you gasped when his finger slipped into your panties “If your past comes back to bite you, you need to tell me. Oh Miguel” you groaned when two fingers slipped into your warm wet core and he started to pull you back from the window backing you both towards the desk.

“I promise” he whispered “But for now, it’s been two years” His thumb connected with your clit and you groaned, your knees trembling as his fingers started to move in and out of you fast “I know this is going to be as good as I remember”

The pit in your stomach was filled with knots and your skin caught on fire as the knots snapped, your breathless moans bounced off the walls and your knees threatened to give way as you came hard on his fingers.

“Good girl” Miguel grunted into your ear thrusting his hard cock into you, pulling his hand out of your panties bringing his fingers up to your lips, while his other hand slid up your shirt, his hand rested on your belly button.

You grabbed his wrist parting your lips and sinking his long fingers into your mouth, running your tongue around them, pulling them out with a pop and Miguel groaned in your ear. Miguel pulled his hand from out of your shirt and stepped back, reaching into his pocket pulling out a foil wrapper. You turned, reaching over to undo his belt buckle, pants button and unzipped the zipper pushing them down to land at his feet. Your eyes locked with his lust filled ones as you hooked your pointer fingers into the waist of his boxers, pulling them down and letting them slide down to meet his pants. You ran your hands up the tops of his thighs, one of your hands resting on his hip and the other wrapping around him, stroking him lazily.

Miguel surged forward, his lips finding yours, the kiss intense and deep straight off. Miguel’s free hand run up your arm, up over your shoulder, over your neck and up into your hair, balling his hand into a fist pushing your head into him more. His pre cum covered your hand and he pulled back taking your bottom lip between his two, stretching it out and then letting it go for it to snap back into place.

His hand came out of your hair and he ripped the foil packet with his teeth, throwing the wrapper on the floor and rolling it one. You licked your lips watching his long fingers moving over him as he rolled on the condom. Before you knew it, Miguel grabbed your hips spinning you around and bent you over the table, pushing the middle of your back forward so your chest was resting flat on the cold metal desk. You felt his fingers at the hem of your skirt again pulling your skirt up over your hips and his fingers traced down over the lace edge of your cheeky cut panties,

“See you came ready for me, dirty girl” Miguel’s fingers grabbed the waist of the panties and pulled them down letting them slide down to your ankles.

“Miguel’s dirty girl” you purred, pushing your hips back into him.

A smirk came to his face and both of Miguel’s hands gripped your hips and you felt the head of his cock starting to push up into you, the stretch an amazing burn. Miguel saw your mouth drop open and he thrusted up the rest of the way till he bottomed out. He didn’t give you much time to adjust to him before he was slamming into you hard, deep and fast, hitting the right spot every time. You lifted your chest up off the table, resting on your elbows, pushing back into him, his balls smacking into you.

You felt the familiar sensation starting to wash over you and Miguel started to feel your walls clamp around him. One of his hands started to run up under your shirt running up over your back and his other snaked around to your clit rubbing it with his pointer finger,

“Fu-Miguel” you panted out loud.

Miguel thrusted his hips up into you hard, his movements getting sloppy, his own release not far behind. You pushed back into him hard your hands balling into fists on the desk, chanting his name and your eyes slamming shut tight while your orgasm raged through you. Miguel trusted up, his balls tensing and he fell forward, his hands landing on the desk as he spilled his seed deep inside you, your name and Spanish words pouring out of his mouth.

Miguel lent over you, kissing your shoulder up to the base of your neck before pushing up off the table, pulling out of you and moving away to clean himself up. You finally caught your breath pushing yourself up off the table, bending down to pull up your panties and push down your skirt. You used the back of your pointer fingers to wipe away smudged mascara. You turned around searching for Miguel and he looked over at you with a smile on his face as he did up his belt buckle walking over to you.

When Miguel got to you he cupped both your cheeks, his lips meeting yours kissing you sweetly and then peppering your face with kisses wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you into him. You wrapped your arms around him, you both melting into each other, Miguel’s head resting on top of yours. You both staying like that for a long moment.

After a while you felt Miguel reach up taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tipping your head back,

“Thank you”

You frowned looking up into his face and then raised an eye brow,

“For?”

“For being my second chance” Miguel brushed his nose over yours “I promise Y/N, I have learnt from my mistakes”

You pulled your chin away from his fingers and reached up to cup his cheeks. You ran your thumbs over his cheeks and he smiled down at you

“Hey, I just want you to be you. Everything is in the past. New York, New Miguel.”

Tags: @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @withmyteeth @alwaysachorusgirl @amorestevens

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo smut #miguel galindo x you #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #maynas #mayans smut #mayansmc

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jean-kayak · 3 years

Note

can we get some dom fem reader and sub Sero in the chat? lowkey y/n is a badass and will destroy this man in bed.

Don’t Get It Twisted

A/N: I-, Anon, I love you and I definitely took this and ran with it, I hope you like it! Also, don’t look up c*** ring on google, you will be scarred

Warnings: (smut 18+!!), femdom, use of toys: cock ring, vibrator; pegging, anal sex, fingering (m. and f.receiving), oral sex (f.receiving), face riding, mild degradation, authority kink? (reader is called ma’am once), mommy kink, a lot of begging, some crying, short use of a collar, a little bit of aftercare at the end, smidge of fluff at the end if you squint (LMAO i think i covered it, let me know if there’s anything else)

Word Count: 3,200 (of absolute filth)

You noticed that your boyfriend had been a lot cockier, brattier to say the least, and what made it so bad was that he didn't even register that he was doing it. Of course, you didn't say anything, hoping that he could pick up on his mistake.

The last strike showed you he wouldn't.

You were both at a party to celebrate Todoroki's birthday, and it gave you and Sero the chance to catch up with your friends from UA. Sero looked like he was having the time of his life, laughing loudly with the Bakusquad. You happen to pass by when you heard him say it.

You nearly stopped in your tracks, making sure you heard him right. "y/n? The dominant one?" He scoffs. "No, not in the slightest."

You scoffed as your eyes went wide. You glance over at your boyfriend, who seems very pleased with himself at the fact that he just lied to his friends to make himself look better.

He's not always the dominant one, you both always switch roles. Although the last time you were the dominant one was probably a while ago but...he didn't let that get to his head, did he?

You chuckle lightly as you walk up next to him, his arm snaking around your waist immediately as you greet everyone around you. "Sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to tell you that we can leave whenever you're ready, babe," you tell him. You decided not to tell him that you heard the whole conversation, choosing to wait for the right moment to drop it.

He responds with a nod and you give him a peck on his cheek before walking away, a huge smirk on your face as a plan forms in your mind.

You let him ride his high horse for another week before you put your plan into action. You've ordered a few new things, making sure to keep them hidden, waiting to reveal them at the right time. But as the day gets closer, the more excited you get.

It's hard to hold back your jitters, even Sero starts to pick up on it, but when he asks, you just brush it off with a simple excuse. You also let him think he's in control in bed this whole week, already imagining what his face is going to look like when he finds out what you've really been up to.

"If you wanted to shower, we could've just gotten in together," he responds when you say you're getting ready to take one, the only thing covering his body is the towel around his waist.

"I know," you start, leaning in. "But I have a surprise for you," you whisper, your nails trailing down his wet torso making him shiver. "Wait for me on the bed, yeah?" You smirk as he nods, his eyes already filled with lust, and you make your way into the bathroom.

When you walk into the room, you see him lying on his back scrolling through his phone with the towel still wrapped around his waist. As soon as his eyes land on you, he's smirking as he sits up, the towel falling in the process as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

His eyes widen when you drop the robe at your feet before sauntering over to him as his eyes take in the new lingerie you bought. It's sheer lace in black, the bra completely see-through, and his eyes trail down, completely entranced by the crotchless panties you're wearing.

He instantly pulls you into his lap once you get close enough, and you whine at the feeling of his dick rubbing against your core. "This new?" he murmurs in your ear as his hands travel all over your body.

"You like?" you ask as your hand finds its way into his hair.

"I love it," he emphasizes, planting kisses on your neck as his hands run up your body and over your nipples. You arch into the touch when you feel him start to make love bites on your neck. "This a gift for me?"

His hands run down your thighs and when they come back up, his fingers brush up against your lips which are already glistening with your arousal. You bite back a moan, and you almost forget what your goal was today. Almost.

You're able to pull away even though your body is protesting, and you guide him to lay down on the bed. He lets you guide him easily, thinking he's in for a pleasurable night. You internally shake your head at how wrong he is.

You grind down on his hardening length to keep him distracted while you reach into the nightstand to pull out the first thing you bought. A black collar with a silver ring in the middle.

His eyes open when he feels it come around his neck and you smirk at him. "Oh, a gift? Think of this as your punishment." His eyes go wide when he hears your words, your hands moving to his wrist, moving his hands to rest above his head. "If you can't keep them there, then I'll tie you down, deal?"

He starts to shake his head as he tries to find the right words to say. When he starts to speak, you wrap a finger around the hoop, yanking him upwards. "Do I make myself clear?"

He swallows shakily as he nods his head. "Yes, ma'am."

You give him a satisfied smile as you set his head back down on the pillow before reaching in the drawer to grab the rest of the stuff. You see the worried, scared look in his eyes when they land on what you bought, and you have to hold back a laugh.

"Wait, baby, please--"

"You know, I thought you would notice that you were being a little bit too overconfident lately. And a brat. But..." You lean down to hover over his face. "It looks like you need to be knocked down a peg." You move off of him to the other side of the bed. "You pick, what do you want first?"

He swallows thickly as he looks at you, the look in his eyes pleading for a chance but you're not budging. He looks down, nodding his head towards the one he chose. "T-The ring."

You can't hide your smile as well as your giddiness, and he grunts softly as you slip it on, flipping the switch to make it vibrate. "Hands," you warn when he jolts up, his hands falling down to his sides. He quickly puts them back in position, his nails digging into his palms.

You move in between his legs, spreading them apart with your hands as you open the cap to the lube. You put a good amount on your finger before prodding at his tight hole. "Color?"

"G-Green," he pants, and you smirk as you work three fingers into him, curling them and hitting the spot that has him thrusting his hips up. His eyes widen when he sees you grabbing the vibrator with your other hand.

"What? You didn't think this was one or the other, did you?" He moans as his eyes screw shut as you slide the vibrator into him, and you rub soothing circles on his thigh. "Relax, baby, you're taking it so well," you coo, and he releases a relaxing sigh as you fill him to the hilt.

You give it a few experimental thrusts, changing the angles until you hit his prostate, which makes him cry out as he struggles to keep his hands together. You keep the vibrator at that angle as you turn it on, and this time his hands do fall down as he bites his lip to try and stifle his moan. He puts his hands back into position as you move from in between his legs and back onto the other side of the bed.

This is probably the best thing you've ever seen. You've got the vibrator on the highest setting, and your boyfriend is trembling. The only sounds that escape him are whines and whimpers and occasional moans whenever you adjust the vibrations. The flush on his face has made its way down his neck and chest, the head of his length an angry red, bubbling with pre-cum.

The image is making you insanely wet as you burn it into your brain, and you lean back before spreading your legs. "You look so good like this, babe," you tell him, and he looks at you to see you playing with your folds. He sighs heavily as he turns his head away from you quickly, and you tilt your head. "Look at me, Han," you whisper softly, and he slowly looks at you again.

He glances down at the strap-on in between the two of you before his eyes land on your fingers, and they stay there. You play with your clit as you slide your fingers into you, which have no resistance due to how wet you are.

"You get one freebie, Hanta. You can cum without permission once. Use it wisely."

He shakes his head softly. "Baby, please--"

"How'd you put it? Me? The dominant one?" You look him right in the eye as you shake your head. "Oh, no not in the slightest."

His mouth opens and closes as he looks for a response, your actions all making sense to him now, and you smirk at him. "Ah, so you do remember. Just checking." You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you speed your fingers up, the only sounds filling the room are the vibrator and the squelching of your soaked pussy.

"Fuck, Hanta," you moan as you bring yourself higher, imagining it was his fingers instead of yours. He's always been able to reach deeper inside you than you ever could, but you keep going. "Do you want something?" you ask in annoyance as you slowly peel your eyes open, the knot in your stomach close to snapping.

He nods his head eagerly. "I want..." he trails off, and you raise your eyebrows, almost failing because of how close you are right now. "Wanna taste you," he mumbles, and you shake your head.

"You gotta speak up, baby," you tell him, jolting forward with a moan as your fingers barely curl over that spot.

"I wanna taste you," he says louder, a hint of nervousness still in his voice. You reluctantly pull your fingers out of you, and he watches mesmerized as they glisten in the low light filtering through the room.

"That all?" you push as your hand slowly moves towards his neglected dick. He tries to shy away from you, but when he moves, he pushes the vibrator further into his prostate which makes him cry out. "What else do you want?"

As soon as your hand strokes him, the words come rushing out. "Shit! I want to taste you. I want you to sit on my face, please! Fuck!" he pants, and your mouth drops open at his words as you feel another wave of arousal flood straight to your core.

"Those are some naughty words, Sero," you tease as you squeeze his length lightly. "You think you deserve that?"

"Yes, please, mommy, I'll be good I swear! Just please!" If you're being honest with yourself, it's hard to deny him with how broken his voice sounds as he begs, so you give in.

He takes a deep breath when you release his raging hard-on, and you slide your fingers in his mouth that were previously stuffed in your cunt. He accepts them greedily, practically lifting his head off the bed to put them in his mouth, and your thighs squeeze together when you feel his tongue circling every inch of your fingers.

You pull your fingers out, the digits connected to his lips by a string of saliva and he takes a few more deep breaths before he nods frantically. "Please, I want it, I'll be good I promise," he repeats, and you move until your hovering over his face, and you grab onto his wrist when they start to twitch.

You've barely sunk down towards his face before he's devouring you like there's no tomorrow. You let out a surprised moan, one of your hands scratching at his scalp. "All the way, baby, please," he pleads against your folds, and you hadn't sunk any further, you really didn't want to suffocate him, but you do it anyway, and you jolt forward when he dives right back in.

His nose bumps against your clit as he licks through your folds before licking at your hole, eager to taste more of you. "Shit, Hanta, feels so good," you cry, riding his face, and he doesn't stop his pace as his hips cant up in the air, trying to find some form of release but instead moaning against you when he feels the vibrations.

You dig your fingers into his hair as you feel your orgasm building. "Ungh, Han, I'm close," you sigh, your pace becoming more frantic as you reach higher. He continues to eat you out enthusiastically, and when he sucks your clit into his mouth, that coil snaps and you're arching back as you pull at his hair almost painfully.

It's all too much for Sero right now. The taste of you, the sounds you're making, the feeling of you pulling his hair. All of that leads to him coming untouched, and he releases a loud groan, muffled by you, as his back arches off the bed.

You move off his face, settling for sitting on his abdomen. "You made your mommy feel so good, baby," you coo, your body still coming down from your orgasm, and you watch as his chest heaves, whining at the overstimulation. "That was your one," you tell him, and you don't even have to look to know he came.

He nods slowly, his hands still in the place where you left them, and you smile softly as you lean down to hover your face over his. "You like being mommy's little slut, don't you?" you ask against his hips and he nods. "Say it."

"I'm mommy's little slut--ah!" You grind your hips backward into his straightened member, and his hands twitch as he moans at the contact.

"And you're gonna get fucked like one," you tell him as you slide off of him before rolling him over onto his stomach and pressing his back into that arch that you love oh so much.

You turn the vibe off, slowly pulling it out of him before setting off to the side. You guide his hands to stay planted behind his back as you reach for the strap-on. "Color?"

He turns his head to the side so that he can watch you slip it on and put lube on it. "Green," he sighs as he swallows thickly.

"You sure?" you question as you line up to his hole that's currently clenching around nothing.

He nods quickly. "Yes, please fuck me." You grip his hips before slamming into him, nailing his prostate with ease, and he practically screams as his body goes rigid, his seed spilling onto the sheets underneath him. He turns his head so that's he's face down into the pillow as his face heats up as he tries to cool himself down.

"Oh, Han," you start, and when he does move, you grip his hair, pulling him flush against your chest. "Don't tell me you just came. Without permission?" He doesn't look at you, and you scoff deeply. "Guess you don't deserve to get fucked like a slut after all," you assume as you start to pull out, but then he's wedging a hand out from in between your bodies to grab at your hip.

"Wait! Please, no! I'm sorry, mommy, it was an accident, I promise!" To your surprise, he's falling forward and arching his back. "Please fuck me! I want your dick, mommy, please! Please give it to me, I promise I won't cum!" he pleads as he bucks back into you.

He's always been a little bit more on the shy side whenever he was the submissive one, so this was a whole new image for you. You don't know what switch you've flipped, but you're definitely not complaining.

You lean over him, your body flush against him as you nip at his ear. "You sure? It won't happen again?"

He shakes his head as he grips at the sheets underneath him. "No, no. Just please fuck me." He's basically breathless, and since he's begging so nicely, you decide to indulge him.

You lift your top half up, placing your hands back on his hips before you rear your hips back and slam into him. Your pace is relentless, and you can't help but watch as your boyfriend falls apart under you, his body shimmering with a layer of sweat that's like his second skin.

"Fuck! Right there, mommy, right there. Don't stop." His knuckles are turning white from how hard his grip is, and you reach under him to stroke his dick, which you know is super sensitive due to the two orgasms he's already had. He cries out as he screws his eyes shut, tears running down his face. "Ugh, mommy, please let me cum. Please, please, please."

He's no longer coherent, and you can feel this next orgasm building as you speed up your strokes. "Who's fucking you this good?"

"Ah! You, you, you." He's sobbing at this point, his tears staining the pillowcase.

"Cum for your mommy, Hanta. Cum for me," you command and before you can even finish your sentence, he's screaming into the room as his whole body goes taut, his release landing on your fingers and the bed.

You stop moving and stroking him when he starts to whine, and you slowly pull out of him, using your other hand to turn off the ring and slide it off of him, making him wince. He flops onto the bed, rolling onto his back, and you make a show of licking his cum off of your fingers, and he moans softly.

He throws his arm over his eyes as he comes down from one of the best orgasms of his life as you take all of the toys to the bathroom to clean later and coming back with a warm washcloth and a glass of water.

He winces softly as you clean him up before handing him the glass of water. He downs the glass while you strip the comforter and throw it in the washer, and you join him in bed.

"Damn it, baby, I think you killed me," he admits as he flops onto your chest, his eyes having a hard time staying open, and you chuckle softly. "Sorry about how I've been acting, but I may or may not do it again," he jokes sleepily and you laugh softly. "I am sorry though. And I love you."

"I know. And I love you too." His soft snores are what lull you to sleep.

#sero hanta #hanta sero #sero hanta smut #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #mha smut #bhna smut #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #tw mommy kink #🛶.hoarny

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Note

I hope you feel better soon! When you're feeling better would you be able to write something about jealous Strife? That ask made me curious

“Do you really have to go?”

From your seat at the vanity, you heave an exasperated sigh and set down your lipstick, swivelling around in the chair to face the Horseman who stands sulking at your bedroom door.

“Strife,” you begin patiently, “I'm afraid my answer still hasn't changed since you asked me ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I know. It's just -” Averting his gaze, he crosses his arms and grumbles, “I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.”

“And I told you two weeks ago that I wouldn't be around tonight.”

You can't see his expression, hidden as it is behind the silver helm he wears, but you're fairly confident in guessing that there's a pout on his lips.

“And besides,” you add, “We hang out all the time. You practically live here. Hell, you've already turned my spare bedroom into your own personal den.”

'Den' is an understatement. Your spare room is now less of a bedroom more of an Earth museum, filled from floor to ceiling with all of the things that Strife has picked up simply because they took his fancy. For the most part, it's all junk. There's an obsolete gaming console that no longer works, a skateboard, a horse figurine made of glass, no less than three Nerf guns and not a foam dart between them...

Honestly, you're loathe to tell him to get rid of any of it, though you fear you might have to soon if you don't want the mess spilling out into the rest of your house.

Giving your head an exasperated shake, you check the time on your phone and stand up, throwing your bag over a shoulder. “Listen, it's just one evening with an old friend who I haven't seen since before the apocalypse. We can hang out tomorrow, I promise. But now, I really need to dash, he'll be here to pick me up any minute.”

Pausing to stuff your phone into the pocket of your trousers, you head towards the door, hardly noticing that the Horseman is still standing in front of it with his arms folded neatly across a broad, armoured chest. It's only because you glance up right at the last second that you manage to avoid a painful collision. “Um...Strife?” you ask, halting in your tracks, “... Move?”

In response, he simply leans back against your door and begins to inspect the claws on one of his gauntlets. “Nah... I'd rather hear about this friend of yours. You've never mentioned him.” Pausing, he shoots you a sly smirk that you can sense more than see, his golden eyes flashing, “You guys close?”

With a roll of your eyes, you mimic his posture, crossing your arms and giving him a glare that would make Death proud. “Strife, what's gotten into you? I just said I'm going to be late for my friend.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he returns coolly, “Just wanna know that my friend isn't walking into a trap.”

“Oh wow – a trap? Really? Of all the-” You cut yourself off and raise a hand, massaging at your temple. “Okay. Now you're just being ridiculous. It's not a trap.”

“Why don't you let me come with you, just in case?”

“Because!” you cry, throwing your arms up, “It'll be awkward! You remember what I taught you about third-wheeling?”

He remembers it well, in fact. Just like he remembers everything you teach him, committing the moments to memories that he'll carry with him until the day he snuffs it. He only has you for less than a hundred years, after all, and he's determined to remember every last bit of it. The Universe must have thought itself pretty hilarious when it placed you in his life. Of all the creatures in all the realms, the one he ends up caring about most just so happens to be the one with the shortest lifespan. It makes him want to hunt down the Creator and shoot a hole where a heart might be.

Shoving down his contempt for the omnipotent bastard, Strife returns his attention to you and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't mind tagging along. You know, just in case I have to watch your back.”

Your response hits him harder than a crack from Fury's whip. “I don't need you to watch my back every second of every day! Stop being so paranoid.”

The Horseman is too proud and obstinate to ever let the stab of hurt show in his eyes, but he can't ignore its presence in his chest.

He is not being paranoid... He's being a good friend - watching your back, looking out for you, all the things a friend is supposed to do. Not that he's had much experience being friends with a human. Or anyone, for that matter, who isn't a horse or his siblings. It's been a learning curve for both of you, though more-so for him, and so far, the most prominent challenge he's faced is balancing the line between being a friend and being an overprotective nuisance.

It perhaps hasn't helped that, ever since humanity was resurrected, the pair of you have been nigh inseparable. He's grown used to your presence – is dependant upon in, according to Death; a fact that Strife had vehemently tried to deny, at least until he learned that you'd made plans. Plans with someone else. Plans that didn't involve him.

It was only once he'd taken some time to reflect and found that he had indeed been glued to your side for months, that he realised the awful truth.

His older brother was right, after all. The smug ass.

A shudder rolls over the Horseman's body and he blinks, realising that in the few seconds he's been lost in thought, you've managed to reach around him to push open your bedroom door.

“Hey!” he complains as you all but shove past, and he – being the soft-touch that he is – simply allows himself to be moved aside. Grumbling, he follows you across the landing and down your sweeping staircase until you reach the front door and stop beside it.

From outside, the thunderous roar of an approaching, automobile's engine thrums in his ears.

“That's him!” you chirp, and Strife hates the way your face lights up at the mention of whoever 'he' is.

Throwing open your door, you head outside and try to pull it shut behind you, yet find your efforts abruptly halted by the Horseman sticking close to your heels. He ducks through the low doorframe and moves to stand beside you, his viciously keen gaze raking over the vehicle that idles at the end of your driveway.

By his own admission, Strife has always had a weakness for those 'motor bikes' the humans like to ride, with their shiny gaskets and noisy engines. But this one – the one upon whom sits a tall, lanky human – Strife does not care for.

“Anton!” you call out, flying down the driveway, splaying your arms out wide in anticipation of a hug.

'Anton' laughs brightly and kicks down the bike's stand as he leaps from the seat, his own arms only just opening in time to receive you when you crash into him with a whoop of delight.

As soon as those long, stringy arms wrap around your shoulders, the Horseman's hackles raise like a feral beast's and the sudden presence of Anarchy begins to claw at the confines of his ribcage. For a few moments, he wrestles with himself, weighing the pros and cons of letting his most primal form take over for a while, but after envisioning the disapproving frown that's sure to adorn your face should he pull such a stunt, he bitterly shoves a reluctant Anarchy back down and settles upon prowling down the gravel drive after you, glaring hard at the stranger the entire way. Admittedly, he is a little surprised at himself for the animosity. On the whole, he's always maintained a good rapport with other humans. He likes the species, a lot. So to suddenly be filled with such a strong disliking for this particular human strikes him as odd and out of character.

Then, Anton's hands slide down to your lower back and another bout of indignant fury flares up in the Horseman's belly. After what he thinks is, quite frankly, an obscene amount of time, the stranger releases you, holding onto your shoulders and leaning back to get a better look at your face.

“God, it's good to see you, Y/n,” he drawls, eyeing you from head to toe in a way that makes the Horseman's skin crawl, “I can't believe it! You've changed so much!”

Grinning shyly up at him, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and reply, “Hopefully for the better?”

His own smile widens. “You were always at your best, even before the apocalypse. Still, being Humanity's Hero seems to be really suiting you, huh?”

At once, your expression falls and you pull a face, extracting yourself from his grasp. “Oh god, don't call me that. I've told the media till I'm blue in the face - the Horsemen are the ones who deserve to be called heroes. Oh, speaking of whom...” You turn to face the looming presence at your side and gesture up to Strife. “I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Anton's gaze leaves you long enough to flick over towards the Horseman and you watch as he does a very comical double-take, his eyes bulging for a moment before he manages to compose himself again and lifts his hand in greeting. “Hey! You must be one of those Horseman guys. Death, right?”

Noticing that the Nephilim's hands curl suddenly into tight fists, you interject, “Uh, actually, this is Strife, Tones.”

“Tones?” He really does try to keep the disdain from his voice when he switches his burning, golden glare between you and the other human. “I thought you said his name was Anton?”

How many other friends do you have?

“It's a nickname, Strife,” you reassure him quickly, “This is Anton.”

A nickname... Of course. The Horseman's stomach twists itself into a knot and he can't stop himself from blurting out, “How come you've never given me a nickname?”

The human concept surrounding abbreviated names was a fairly easy one for him to grasp when he first learned of them. They're terms of endearment, meant to signify familiarity and friendship.

He's your friend. He's familiar. Why doesn't he have a nickname too?

"Ugh, I'm sorry. We'll brainstorm nicknames when I get back," you huff, "But the restaurant will give our table away if we don't hurry. So -"

Turning to usher Anton onto the bike, you hardly manage to take one step before a large, metal hand is sliding around your forearm and tugging you gently to a halt. Biting back a groan, you glance over your shoulder, ready to scold him, but one look at his slouched stance and averted gaze stops you in your tracks.

"Uh. Hey, Tones?" you call, never taking your eyes off the Horseman's mask, "Can you give us a sec?"

The human behind you is careful to check that Strife isn't looking when he rolls his eyes and grunts in acknowledgement before he turns and saunters over to his bike, leaning up against it and pulling out his phone.

Once Anton has turned his attention elsewhere, you raise a brow at the Horseman and wait, patient, expectant. After working his jaw for a moment or two, he finally looks at you properly and tightens his grip on your arm, not until it's painful, but enough that you understand what he's trying to convey in the gesture.

He really doesn't want you to go.

"Strife?" you prod.

Reluctantly, he lets out a rough exhale.

Although he's far better at it than his siblings, watching Strife try to openly express emotion isn't unlike watching someone pull their own teeth out with a pair of pliers. The process is slow, and it's best to sit back and listen to him rather than try to encourage him to speak. So, that's what you do, and eventually, your patience is rewarded when after another few seconds of silence, he offers a strained chuckle and says, "This guy isn't my replacement, is he? I know the bike is cool, and all, but..."

"Your replacement?" you laugh, incredulous, "Strife. I don't know how it worked with Nephilim, but for humans, having another friend doesn't cancel out any existing ones."

He knows that. He's not some whelp who never learned how to share. Frustrated with himself, the Horseman huffs and turns his head to the side, glaring hard at nothing in particular.

"Hey..." An old habit kicks in, and before you can stop yourself, you reach up to trace your fingertips along the underside of Strife's helm, tipping it back towards you and smiling at the bewildered look in his yellow eyes. Confident that he's paying proper attention, you pull your hand away again and state, "I could search the whole universe from top to bottom for the next hundred, thousand years, and I'd never find a friend who could replace you, okay? So stop worrying. Your ranking as 'my best friend' is not under threat."

"M'not worrying," he grumbles, but inside, his heart is aglow with the warmth of your words. At the back of his mind, Anarchy rumbles happily. You said best!... He's your best friend? He tries to recall you ever calling him that before. Then he realises that, no, you can't have done. He wouldn't forget a moment like that. Not in a million years. Just like he won't forget how he feels right now after hearing those two words.

Oblivious to the fate you've just sealed for yourself, you clap your hands together, bringing the conversation to what you hope is an easy conclusion. "Good. In that case, will you please let me go with Anton now?"

The Horseman's mood sours almost immediately, but at least he peels his fingers off your arm.

"Hey, kid?" he address Anton, packing his voice with all the menace and threat that he can muster, "If I find out she gets hurt on your watch, I'll introduce you to a couple'a friends of mine..." His hands fall less-than subtly to his holsters, where the silver handles of Mercy and Redemption glint in the sunlight.

Anton's face pales upon seeing the Horseman's legendary pistols.

"Stop that," you scold him, smacking the back of your hand against the armoured chest plate before turning to your other friend and calling, "Come on, Tones, let's go."

Anton all but throws himself onto his bike, kicking the stand back and jamming his keys into the ignition whilst you climb on behind him, albeit far more gracefully. The man tosses you a helmet and you shove it onto your head.

Strife's eyes remain settled upon your hands that wrap snugly around Anton's waist and it takes everything in him not to grab you, haul you off the bike, drag you back to your home and lock you inside.

“I'll be back late tonight,” you call over the roar of the engine as you begin to pull away, “There's food in the fridge if you want to eat! And my Netflix is still logged in! I'll see you later, okay!?”

Strife doesn't respond, not because he can't think of what to say, but because there would be no point. Anton has already peeled away and pushed the bike to a reckless speed. All the Horseman can do is stand there at the end of your driveway, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

After you're nothing more than a dot on the far horizon, he tears his eyes off you and lets them fall to the tarmac near his boots.

He never notices you looking back.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife #reader #jealousy

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10-19-17uswnt · 3 years

Text

Not that kind of librarian Sonny- Tierna x Reader

This is my first ever fic and I’m really nervous about it so tell me what you think. Prompt: “I work at a library and you continuously ask me to help you find books about the most random topics, are you on some sort of quest?”

On this particular day when Tierna walks into the Stanford library she stops dead in her tracks when she sees you standing at your desk. You are the most beautiful girl she has ever seen. She is so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice you walking right up to her.

“Can I help you with anything?”

She blinks quickly and looks around confused. Suddenly she can’t remember why she’s here. Panicking she blurts out the first thing she can think of to keep you from walking away.

“Dinosaurs!”

An adorable blush starts to creep up her freckled cheeks as she realizes she practically shouted at you. You smile softly and let out a quite chuckle.

“Do you have a specific dinosaur in mind?” You say as you start to lead her towards the correct section.

“Uhh no not really” She laughs nervously with a hand on the back of her neck. “I’m Tierna by the way, Tierna Davidson.” She finishes while extending her hand to you.

What she didn’t know is that you knew who she was the second that she walked through those doors. You were a huge soccer fan and even played all throughout high school, but your senior year you were told that if you got another serious concussion it could result in brain damage so you decided to hang up your boots for good to stay healthy.

Despite what you went through you still loved the game so when you arrived at Stanford you went to any game you could. Tierna is one of the best players to come through the Stanford program so it was no surprise to you when she finally got her first call up. From the very fist time you saw her play you were smitten, and now is no different.

“I know who you are Superstar,” You can’t help but grin as you watch her eyes widen. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You say as you finally bring your hand up to meet hers.

Just as you are reaching the books about dinosaurs you hear your boss call out to you, “(Y/N)! I need you to put these books back where they go!”

You can’t help but feel disappointed at your time with Tierna being cut short. For a fleeting moment as you turn towards her you think she may look disappointed too.

“Duty calls, I’ll see you around Superstar” You say as you bring your hand up to brush her arm. You’re already beginning to walk away before she can respond, but as you look back you see her nodding.

With her original purpose for coming to the library long forgotten Tierna quickly makes her way back to her dorm room texting into the USWNT groupchat as she went.

Baby T: SOS I JUST MET A CUTE GIRL AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO

Frat Daddy Sr.: Aww shes a baby gay.

Frat Daddy Sr.: I remember those days

Frat Daddy Sr.: It took me like 3 months to ask out my first girlfriend

Baby T: 3 MONTHS?!?!

Not so Baby Horse: Probably not helping worms

Frat Daddy Sr.: My bad T...

Frat Daddy Sr.: I’m sure you’ll be fine

Pressi: Just take a deep breath and tell us about this girl honey

Baby T: I was headed to the library for only god knows what at this point and I saw her standing by her desk and I couldn’t help but stare because she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. By the time I realized that she was standing next to me I had already forgotten what I had came for so when she asked what I was looking for I just blurted out the first thing I could think of. AND she already knew who I was and didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Dasani: Wait I thought librarians were only hot in pornos?

PewPew: Eww Sonny, not that kinda librarian

The Great Horan: I don’t see the issue here, just ask her out

Uncle: Yeah just go back tomorrow and ask her to coffee or something

Rose🌹: Leave it to Lyss to be the voice of reason haha

Baby T: Just ask her to coffee, how hard could that be? Thanks everyone, minus Kelley and Emily

Frat Daddy Sr.: HEY!

Dasani: HEY!

The next day you’re sitting behind your desk when you see Tierna walk inside. When she spots you she smiles and starts walking towards you. As she gets closer you call out, “I get to see the Superstar two days in a row? Must be my lucky day”

Her step falters as a deep red blush rises to her cheeks. Making Tierna a blushing mess is quickly becoming your new favorite thing. “What can I do for you today Superstar?”

She stands rooted to the spot staring blankly at you. You start to think that maybe she’s not as into you as you thought and maybe you should cut back on the flirting when she finally rushes out, “Doyouwannagogetcoffeewithmemaybe?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? All I got out of that was coffee. You’re gonna have to talk slower babe.”

Her eyes widen and somehow her blush gets even darker. She clears her throat before speaking again.

“I uh... I asked if you.. if you... had any books on how to make coffee.”

You give her a weird look as you turn to your computer to see if the library has such a book. While you are distracted Tierna facepalms at her nerves getting the best of her once again. She is pulled out her thoughts by the sound of your voice.

“You’re in luck Superstar, we have one book on how to make coffee.” You say as you get up to pull the book off the shelf and check it out for her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Uh..Nope. That’s it I guess. Thanks (Y/N)”

You watch disappointed again as Tierna walks away. Before your brain can catch up to what you’re doing you grab a pen and run after her. “Hey Superstar! Wait up!”

Tierna turns around slowly and watches as you jog up to her. She’s extremely confused since she thought that she blew it with you once again. When you finally reach her you grab her arm and before either of you think about it you write your number on her arm. When you see the goofy smile spreading on her face as it dawns on her what just happened you knew that you made the right decision.

“Call me Superstar.” You say with a wink as you start walking back towards your desk.

As you walk back you hear a load yell and turn just in time to see Tierna land from her flying fist pump. You shake you head with a smile, this goofy girl held the key to your heart and she didn’t even know it yet.

On her way back to her dorm Tierna excitedly pulls out her phone to update the team.

Baby T: GUYS GUYS GUYS! I GOT HER NUMBER!!!

Pressi: That’s great sweetheart! Now, do we get a name for this mystery lady of yours?

Uncle: So I guess the plan worked?

Baby T: Oh yeah! Her name is (Y/N), and not exactly...

Frat Daddy Sr.: What do you mean “not exactly” it either worked or it didn’t

Baby T: Well you see, I was GOING to ask her out to coffee, but then she was flirting with me and called me babe out of nowhere so I panicked and asked for a book on how to make coffee...

Not so Baby Horse: Oh honey

Dasani: Wait how did you end up with her number then!?

Baby T: She ran up and wrote it on my arm when I was leaving

PewPew: So now that you got her number are you going to invite her to the game Saturday?

Baby T: Should I?

PewPew: You said she already knew who you were, so that means shes a fan right?

Baby T: Good point. Thanks!

Your shift ended almost an hour ago and you still haven’t heard anything back from Tierna. You were starting to worry that you had written your number down wrong when you hear your phone go off.

Unknown: Hey it’s Tierna

Maybe?Tierna: From Stanford

(Y/N): Hey Superstar, I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore ;)

Superstar: Oh, sorry lol. So we have a national team game coming up this Saturday in LA and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come watch and like meet the team and stuff

Superstar: But like its totally cool if you already have plans, or if you don’t want to go

(Y/N): I’d love to

Superstar: Really? Awesome. Okay cool, I can’t wait.

(Y/N): Me either, I’ll see you Saturday

Saturday could not come soon enough, you drove 6 hours on Friday to get to your hotel and relax before the game. Tierna had to leave in the middle of the week to meet up with the rest of the team so this will be the first time you’ll be seeing her since you gave her your number. Luckily you bought her USWNT jersey last year so you’re able to show your support.

You get to the game early so you can watch the team warm up, when your eyes meet Tierna’s you can’t help the excited squeal you let out as you wave to her. She had pulled some strings to make sure that you got a seat close to the bench ans was excited to see that the staff went all out and gave you front row seats.

On the field Emily notices that Tierna has gotten distracted and follows her line of vision. When she shes your happy dance and notices your jersey a devilish smirk appears on her face before she calls out to the team.

“Hey look eveybody, T’s Sexy Librarian is here” Her snickering is interrupted by a thump on the back of her head from both Christen and Ali.

“Get your head out of the gutter Sonnett”

From your seat you watch on amused at the reaction that your presence has caused. Soon after that the game was starting, the US were playing the Korean Republic and while it would not be as exciting as a rivalry game it was still a very good game. Tierna started and played a full 90 with some great plays on the ball.

Once the game was over and most of their gear was packed up Kelley noticed that Tierna kept glancing back towards your seat behind the bench. Tierna jumped when she felt Kelley’s hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, hey Kelley”

“Just go ask her out already dude, you’ve been texting her non stop since you got here so I think its safe to say she likes you too.” She whispers in her ear.

“Now go get your sexy librarian!” She laughs as she shoves her towards you

You smile as you see that ever present blush start to creep up her face as she walks towards you. When she finally reaches you she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“(Y/N)? I really like you. As in make me forget my on name kinda like you. From the very first second I saw you in the library last week I was awestruck by your beauty. That’s why every time I came to the library instead of getting what I came for I left with some book I didn’t need. If you’ll let me I’d like to take you on a date so that we can get to know each other without a phone screen and 350 miles between us.”

Throughout her little speech your smile continued to grow, but towards the end you could read her face and see that the nerves were starting to fight their way to the surface so you decided to interrupt her before she could start rambling.

“Hey Superstar?”

“-oh uh, yes?”

With a smirk you watch her eyes go wide as you lean forward and grab the nape of her neck.

“Just shut up and kiss me already,”

For once she stopped overthinking and listened to her heart.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #tierna davidson imagine #tierna davidson x reader #tierna davidson #uswnt

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brawlingdiscontent · 3 years

Text

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon.

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight.

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal.

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways. The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation.

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool.

“You must be hungry.”

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up.

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent.

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen.

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous?

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted.

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says. “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively.

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman.

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm, Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege.

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment.

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him.

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world.

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes.

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.”

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.”

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?”

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.”

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate.

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.”

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality.

“You’re wrong about that, actually.”

He looks back over, surprised.

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire.

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood.

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid.

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head.

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with.

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide.

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness.

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

#cherik #viking au #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #x-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbog #encomium carolis regis

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elliestormfound · 4 years

Text

A bridge to cross

CW: anxiety, vertigo/fear of hights, consensual use of axii

read on ao3

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

“I can’t go over this,” Jaskier said, voice a pitch higher than usual. They were standing near the edge of a ravine with a roaring river about 20 meters below them and the bard was pointing at a small bridge knotted together by ropes and wooden planks. It reached from their side in a graceful downward arch to the other side. On second glance it did look a bit old and frail.

“Why not?” asked Geralt in his deep voice.

The other man was shaking his head, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Geralt had felt Jaskier’s heartbeat spike a second before he had stopped dead in his tracks.

“Can’t we go around?” he asked unsure.

“That would mean a detour of two days,” Geralt said, shaking his head, “and since when are you afraid of heights? Didn’t you tell me you like to climb onto the clocktower of Oxenfurt?”

“Ah, you actually listen to me,” he replied, “yes, I did in fact tell you that. But the difference is, my dear witcher, that the clocktower is a sturdy building made of stone and mortar and doesn’t wiggle when you walk up the steps.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Come on, bard, pull yourself together, we will be on the other side in a minute.”

Jaskier took a step back from him, “I’m afraid I can't…” The sour smell of fear waved over to the witcher.

“You could just hit me unconscious and carry me over,” Jaskier offered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bridge, not letting his eyes linger there, as if just looking at it was enough for his rising panic.

Geralt looked stern and shook his head.

“Jaskier, it’s just a bridge, it won’t break,” he said.

“I...just look at it,” the bard replied without looking at it, “that can’t be safe. We should make an official complaint to the lord of this forest! It’s their responsibility to keep roads and bridges in order. Geralt, this is really a scandal, don’t you think? Maybe I should write a song about the poor quality of this bridge…” Jaskier knew that he was rambling and stopped as he heard Geralt sigh.

“I crossed this bridge with Roach a hundred times already, it’s fine.”

“But what if it breaks this time?” he asked, looking down at his boots, “I am way too pretty to die.”

Geralt smiled weakly and said with a heavy sigh, “I will bring Roach over first and then I will come back for you.”

With a sharp intake of breath Jaskier said, “promise you will come back to me?”

Geralt just looked at him, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t like to repeat himself. As he turned to his horse, Jaskier’s arm shot out and grabbed Geralt’s shoulder. Even though his leather armor he could feel the bard’s frantic heartbeat.

“You know I don’t lie,” Geralt grunted, “I will be right back.”

And he was. Jaskie had tried to watch them cross the ravine, only managing a glimpse or two, but he saw something that gave him an idea.

“Geralt,” Jaskier called as the other returned, “the thing you did to Roach on the bridge to calm her, the sign,” he waved his hand in a very bad imitation, “do that to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Geralt answered with a stern look, “I only use axii on people in very serious situations. Mind control is no child’s play...”

“But I ask you to do it, I trust you, and besides, this is a very serious situation.”

Geralt looked at his bard, hands nervously fidgeting with the buttons of his doublet, a few beads of sweat on his unusually pale forehead, one foot tapping on the floor and his lower lip between his teeth.

Without thinking Geralt made a step towards Jaskier, reached over, stroking his thumb over Jaskier’s bottom lip, gently pulling it out from between his teeth and said, “stop biting your lip, you’ll only hurt yourself..”

A moment later his hand was gone and he made a step back with a shake of his head, bringing distance between them as he realized what he had done. He looked over to the bridge but turned around to the bard as he stayed suspiciously silent. Jaskier looked to the floor, lips slightly parted, cheeks turning pink.

Geralt cleared his throat and said, “let’s try to walk over together, I walk in front of you, facing you and you don’t look down, but at me.”

“And if that is not working?” Jaskier asked barely audible, “I need to know what we do if that is not working.”

Geralt sighed deeply and said, “then I’ll use axii, but only as a last resort.”

The bard breathed in deeply, looked up at Geralt and said, “okay,” with more determination than he felt.

They made their way towards the bridge. “Can you hold my hand?” Jaskier asked and Geralt reached over to take his right hand into his left.

“Hold on to the railing with the other one,” he said calmly as he gently squeezed the bard’s sweaty hand.

They made a few steps and Geralt could see Jaskier’s eyes flicking around.

“Jaskier, look at me.”

With a nervous laugh the bard replied, “I’m sorry but even your gorgeous eyes cannot distract me from the 20 meter drop.”

Geralt could see tears in Jaskier’s eyes, nodded and asked him, “axii then?”

“Yes, please!” He looked him in the eyes, made a complicated gesture with his hand and said, “Jaskier, don’t be afraid.”

The bard didn’t remember if Geralt said anything more, but all his anxiety was gone. He couldn’t remember why he had been so afraid just a moment ago. It was a lovely day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, he could hear the delightful noise of the river below him. He smiled at Geralt, who was looking at him closely and said, “what are you waiting for, my dear witcher? Let’s get on moving.”

Nodding, the witcher let go of Jaskier’s hand, turned around and started walking at a slow pace, careful not to shake the bridge too much.

They crossed without further incident.

They walked over to Roach and Geralt busied himself checking her over.

Jaskier eyed him with a wide smile and said fondly, “gods, I love you.”

Geralt whirled around and said, “what?”

“I..” the smiling bard started to say but was interrupted by Geralt, “no, stop, don’t say that again, you are still under the influence of axii.” Geralt looked mortified, but the bard didn’t stop smiling, looking just a bit puzzled, nodded and said, “yes, my love.”

They walked for a while till Geralt felt Jaskier stop abruptly and turned around. Eyes wide and hands in front of his open mouth, Jaskier looked at him. “Oh...did I...did I just say that I…”

“Yes,” Geralt said between gritted teeth.

He breathed in and out deeply and continued, “I am sorry, that is why I didn’t want to use axii, you never know how it affects people, I should have thought better at how I phrase it…” Now he was rambling.

Slowly Jaskier raised his hand as if to stop him speaking, but then put it on the back of his head, fingers weaving through his hair and said silently, “I wasn’t afraid anymore...so it just slipped out.”

Geralt breathed in sharply, eyes wide and he asked, looking down, “you are afraid? Of me?”

“No,” Jaskier said quickly but softly, “not of you, never of you. Of your reaction.”

Geralt’s head snapped up and he asked in astonishment, “did you mean it? What you said?”

Jaskier sighed softly, “of course.” And with a smile he replied, “are you really surprised? I thought you knew that already, I am not really subtle…” His cheeks and ears had turned a beautiful shade of pink and Geralt made a step towards him.

“Are you mad at me because I used axii on you?” he asked. His brows were knitted together and he felt his heart beat hard and fast. Why was he suddenly so nervous?

“No, why would I be? I begged you to do it and you made me cross that bridge without accidentally fainting from panic…”

“Jaskier, I…” Geralt had made another step towards his bard and was now close enough to count every tiny freckle on his nose. The sour tang of fear was completely gone, he could only smell the familiar scent of Jaskier. The bard looked up into Geralt’s golden eyes with his impossibly blue ones. There was such a vulnerable and open expression on his face, bearing his heart, trustfully laying it into Geralt’s hands.

The witcher breathed in slowly and carefully placed his hand on the bard’s pink cheek. Tenderly he stroked Jaskier’s bottom lip with his thumb, smiling shyly.

“Jaskier, look at me,” he said and when the bard did, “I love you too.”

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@hailhailsatan my take on (non-sexual) consensual use of axii :)

@jaskierswolf because you will maybe like this?

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #EllieStormfound #witcher fanfic #no beta and probably not enough proofreading #sorry not sorry #I just wanted to release it into the wild #geralt x jaskier

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