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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

Can I request a prompt of dad!Harry where maybe it’s just him And Sasha and they get mobbed and her slightly hurt but he is furious

JUST A LESSON

word count: 5k+ (how'd i write this in one day)

warnings: language, smut, blood, minor injuries

- If you'd like more from dad!harry verse - check out my masterlist! (pinned post)

- PLEASE NOTE: DAD!HARRY & CEO!HARRY ARE TWO DIFFERENT TROPES.

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story!

---

Harry was quite stressed out. He wasn’t sure how his wife did it all the time. She was constantly packing up Sasha and toting her around the globe to meet up with him for concerts and events when he was away.

The little family had been staying in their Los Angeles home for nearly three months now as Harry had been writing for his third solo album. It involved a lot of late nights were Y/N were putting Sasha to bed by herself.

Harry was eternally grateful that she was so patient and understanding when he snuck into bed quarter past three after finding a rift that fit a new song perfectly or when Mitch had an idea that had Harry on Skype for hours with him.

The stress was overwhelming for her though. She was usually good at self-care and taking time for herself but Sasha had been so needy lately and crabby when her father wasn’t at her beck and call.

The toddler was going through a bout where she struggled to sleep through the night and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when she didn’t get her way.

It was nearly three weeks of this and she hadn’t mentioned it too much to Harry because she didn’t want him to be as stressed out as she was.

Tonight, Y/N had rocked, sang, hummed, and read to her daughter to stop the angry tears that were rolling down her cheeks but nothing was working. It was near eleven at night and she had took Sasha out in the car for a long ride where she finally fell asleep.

But as soon as Y/N unlocked the front door, she startled awake even angrier than before, squirming out her mother’s grip and bolting through the house. When she tried to round a corner, she slipped on her bum.

Y/N felt her anxiety level break.

Sasha began screaming once again, “Mummy! No! No!”

When Y/N picked her up after her slight tumble, she was absolutely not hurt but had become even more frustrated. Y/N was starting to feel overwhelmed - which didn’t happen often.

“Baby, what do you want? What can mummy do?” Y/N asks with desperation, searching her baby’s watery green eyes. She looked so much like her dad it was absurd.

“No! Down! Stop!” The two year old orders with a furrowed brow, lips in a tight line with her nose scrunched up in displeasure.

“Sasha, you just hurt yourself. You can’t run in the house, the floor is slippery,” Y/N tells her firmly despite it falling upon deaf ears.

“Bad mummy,” Sasha shrieks, “Daddy! Want Daddy! Now!”

Y/N is embarrassed to admit that she has tears welling up in her eyes. She was trying everything in her power to soothe her baby. It’s midnight at this point and she’d been at it since seven this morning.

Sasha had refused a nap all day - giving Y/N no respite at all. Harry had left at eight in the morning and hadn’t returned yet. Even though Sasha was only two and a half, Y/N felt a pang at the words ‘bad mummy.’

She didn’t feel any other option at this point than to call Harry for help. She wanted to be capable of being at stay home mum but sometimes it was really fucking hard but she felt guilty because she should be able to do this. Harry was out there working hard, providing, constantly.

When he doesn’t answer, the tears freely start streaming down her face in silence. She scrubs at them quickly so that her daughter doesn’t see them but it’s hard to catch them all - sobs threatening to bubble through her lips.

“Daddy’s working, we need to go to sleep,” Y/N replies to her daughter, jaw clenched to hold back the upset she feels. She needs a minute alone but she doubts her toddler will let her.

“Pool?” Sasha piques, “Swim?”

Y/N wants to laugh, it’s so fucking late and Sasha should have been in bed nearly four hours ago. The mother was so beyond her routine at this point, that she actually just gave in to her daughter.

Sasha’s mood turns around when Y/N wrangles them both into their swimsuits ***and trails out of the back patio, switching on all the lights around as well as in the pool. The California air was still extremely warm, enough to cause a sweat. ***

She tugs a little donut raft into the pool with them that Sasha can float around on while Y/N guides it to keep her safe. She was so tired by this point that her bones felt like they weighed a million pounds.

Sasha’s eyes droop until they finally flutter close within minutes of being in the warm water. Her eyelids splotchy pink from all of the fits and tears from the day. And when she is completely asleep, Y/N lets herself cry as she continues to float the baby around the pool to keep her asleep.

She hasn’t been doing it for more than ten minutes when the patio door opens and Harry is stepping into the back with a confused expression that she can’t see because her back is turned to him.

“Love, why are you in the pool? S’late,” Harry asks softly but he doesn’t get an answer, so he’s slipping out of his plain tee and striped pants, dirty vans kicked to the side ***.

Just in his briefs, he quietly enters the pool to not disrupt the ebb and flow of the water. When he makes his way over to her, he slides in front of his wife, alarmed at the exhausted, tearful expression on her face.

“Baby, what’s happened? Talk t’me,” Harry whispers, hands coming to cup his wife’s face in between his large hands. Rings cold against her hot, wet cheeks. He looks to his sleeping daughter, running his eyes over her a few times and decides she seems completely okay.

“M’fine,” Y/N chokes out but the lie causes a fresh wave of tears.

Harry frowns, “Don’t lie to me, pet. Please, don’t shut me out. M’always here for you.”

“I’m a bad mum,” She sobs silently, her eyes closing as she leans into his palms before moving to rest her head heavily on the crook of his tattooed shoulder, his chest damp from the salty tears.

“Wha-What’s brought this on? Y’the best mum in the world, best wife in the world. The best at everythin’, why are you doubtin’ that, my heart?” Harry murmurs, taking over the rocking motions of Sasha’s raft.

“She wouldn’t settle today, Harry. Like at all, refusing to nap, eat any healthy food, or bathe. She screamed at me the whole day no matter what I did and then she told me I was bad and she wanted you.”

“Love, she’s in the midst of her terrible twos. She loves you more than anythin’ on this earth. Y’her mummy and a damn good one at that. Why didn’t y’call me? I’d come home, work is never more important than our family.”

Y/N doesn’t bring up the fact she did try to call, “I need to be able to do this myself, Harry. M’a stay at home mum, taking care of Sash is literally my only job and I can’t even do that.”

Harry’s face hardens but he tries to not take it personally, knowing his wife is just upset with herself, “That’s not fair to me, dove. M’her daddy, she’s half mine too. She’s just as much of my responsibility as yours, no matter what my job is.”

“I don’t want to stress you out more than necessary,” Y/N mutters into his skin.

“Me coming home to my wife in tears and my baby in the pool at midnight is more stressful than you ringin’ me to come home,” Harry tells her, smearing a few kisses to the top of her hair.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m just tired.”

Harry pulls her back so he can look her in the eyes, “Never apologize for somethin’ like that. Go get a bath and let me put the bub to sleep, okay? I love y’mumma.”

Harry calls his mum the next morning while Y/N is out getting a manicure with Glenne. He’d called her favorite salon earlier in the day, coercing them into opening a spot for her with a monetary bribe.

Y/N had hesitated at the door as Sasha threw a fit at her mother leaving the house. She clung onto her calf until Harry had to physically pull her off and hold her tightly in his arms.

Currently, Sasha was playing with a set of dolls on the floor of her bedroom as Harry sat next to her. She’d originally been happy with the presence of her father until he told her he needed to make a phone call.

Harry had to be stern with her when she went to grab at the phone pressed to his ear, gently gripping her wrist and frowning, “We don’t do that, s’not nice.”

Sasha had attempted to grab at it again and managed to tangle Harry’s long locks into his fist, tugging at them. Harry unraveled the small fingers before telling his daughter, “If you do that one more time, y’going on the step for two minutes.”

The threat had her pouting harshly but turning back to her toys to occupy herself, sighing when his mum finally answered the phone, “Hi darling.”

“Hi mum, you alright?” Harry asks, relaxing at the sound of his mother’s melodic voice.

“I’m perfect, you don’t sound okay, dear,” Anne replies with a concerned twinge.

Harry didn’t call much to complain, didn’t like worrying her and most of the time Y/N was able to provide the support he needed or Jeff.

“Y/N’s really overwhelmed,” Harry tells her before choking up a bit, “And I don’t know what to do mum, I feel like m’bein’ a bad husband. Came home to her crying last night and she feels like she’s a bad mum.”

When Sasha hears her father’s voice crack, she looks up at him curiously before recognizing that he’s upset. She crawls into his lap, fitting herself against his chest before playing with a doll there. Comforting him.

Harry wraps his free arm around her, pulling her as close as possible. His precious little baby. A little blessing as sweet as her mother.

“Oh honey, that happens. Mums, good mums especially are so critical when they don’t need to be. Baby’s are overwhelming, plus I know she’s been alone a lot with her. But you’re not a bad husband, dear.”

“It feels like it,” Harry sniffles, burying his face in his daughter’s lavender-scented curls from her bath earlier.

“If you were, you wouldn’t be calling,” Anne chuckles at her son, “Now how can we make this situation better?”

The phone call helped Harry not feel so hopeless in helping his wife. He’d come up with the plan to fly to England with Sasha so that Anne could see her but Y/N could have some alone time for a long weekend.

When Y/N enters the front door after her appointment, she’s met by a very excited little human who rushes to her mother and demands to be picked up. Of course, Y/N obliges, looking a bit more refreshed and awake as she tucks the baby against her hip.

Harry had ordered their favorite salads from a shop in the city and had it ready for her, “Oh, looks delicious. Thank you, H,” She smiles at him, leaning to give his stubbly cheek a kiss.

As they dig in, Y/N feeding bits of chicken and veggies to her daughter as they eat, Harry clears his throat, “I’m taking Sash to Holmes Chapel for the long weekend to see my mum.”

Y/N smiles, “That sounds great!”

Harry gives her a perplexed look, he’d thought she’d put up a fight. She despised being away from Sasha - couldn’t go a day without seeing her daughter.

“Really?” Her husband asks, putting down his fork.

“Mhm, I just have to pack a bag for Sash and I. When are we leaving?” Y/N replies eagerly, ready to go back home and get away from California for a bit.

Harry’s stomach clenches, “Erm, I meant just me and the baba? I thought you could stay here and relax for a weekend. Sleep, hang out, shop.”

Y/N’s face falls and is replaced with a devastated look, “You don’t think I’m being a good mum.”

Harry backpedals, realizing he shouldn’t have approached it in the lax way he did.

“No, no, of course not, baby. I think you’re such a good mum that you need a break. You never get breaks, m’the one who always does. S’not fair to you. I just need you to have some time to take care of yourself,” Harry explains, his heart shattering a bit at the tears brimming again.

“I don’t want a break, don’t leave me here,” Y/N begs, tucking a piece of tomato in her daughter’s expectant mouth before Sasha chews and smiles at her mother.

“Mummy, more please?” Sasha chirps, her mood a little bit brighter than it had been the last few days.

“Thank you for using your manners, here baby,” Her mother responds, popping another into her mouth after she sliced it in half.

“Did you book a commercial flight?” She asks her husband with an angry tone.

“No, private but we have to catch it at LAX,” Harry explains, the private airport they usually fly out of was filled to capacity at the moment.

“Either I’m coming or you’re going alone. You’re not taking Sasha without me,” Y/N replies firmly. She stands up and shuffles Sasha into his lap before leaving the room without another word.

Harry didn’t expect that. He should have thought it through more. If Y/N wanted to come, of course she could, but he’d never meant to offend her or act like he was taking Sasha away from her.

Harry had attempted to reason his way out of going to the studio with Jeff today. However, with the final cuts and adjustments were being made - he was quickly turned down and demanded in the studio.

When he’d trailed into the quiet house that night, relieved to find his baby in her crib instead of the pool, he went to his bedroom where the lights were still on.

The closet doors were open and Y/N was on the ground folding and sorting Sasha’s clothes before placing them in her suitcase. ***

Y/N’s suitcase already laying zipped and ready to go by the entrance of the closet. Her toiletry bag was placed neatly on top of it. Then his heart pings a bit when he sees that she’s already packed up his suitcase as well.

Harry pads over to his wife, plopping down behind her and tugging her back into him - long arms wrapping around her upper chest.

“Missed you, mumma.”

She hums, “I missed you too. Miss you always.”

“Y’the love of my life, y’know that?” Harry asks, kissing the back of her neck.

“I better be or you married the wrong person,” Y/N laughs softly, her tone still off but lighter than before.

“Married the right person, knocked up the right person.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes, “How romantic.”

“Baby, y’know what I’m getting at. You’re the best mum and wife. I just wanted you to have a few days to yourself. To lower your stress level and let you do some self-care,” Harry murmurs, pushing the baby clothes out of her hands.

“But your mum can watch her for a bit while we’re there, right? I don’t want alone time, I need the exact opposite. I need company,” She tells him, twisting herself until she’s seated in his lap - straddling him.

“Mmm, can definitely have some alone time,” Harry agrees instantly, his mouth finding her throat - beginning to lay a path of wet, hot kisses down the column down to her collarbones.

“H, I have t’pack, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Y/N weakly argues but can’t help but bear down against her husband when she feels him harden in his loose pants quickly.

“S’just a quickie? Yeah, pet? Lemme fuck you,” Harry’s hands dragging the shirt she’s wearing up and over her head. Eyes lighting up boyishly when he realizes she didn’t have a bra on.

She can’t argue as he darts down to wrap his lips around her pert bud, sucking between long swipes of his tongue - just how she liked it. “Missed y’body so much,” Harry states against her heated skin.

“Just had me two days ago,” Y/N laughs but it cuts off into a moan when his hand slides into her pajama shorts and finds her clit over her thin underwear.

“Never enough,” Harry replies easily, “Remember the song I wrote f’you?”

Y/N snarkily asks, “Which one? Nearly all your songs are about me.”

And well...Harry can’t even argue how true her statement is. “The one titled ‘Never Enough’, pet? Remember?”

Before she can speak, he lowly croons out the chorus of the song he wrote for One Direction years ago, “Lips so good I forget my name. I swear I would give you everything. It’s never enough, never enough.”

Harry knows his sweet as syrup singing gets her immensely turned on and so he’s not surprised when she whimpers against his lips, “Fuck me, c’mon.”

He’s delighted at his wife’s pleas and quickly moves them, leaning forward with her until she’s on her back on the ground of their walk-in closet. He accidentally kicks over a pile of Sasha’s dresses but neither even notice.

There is no time wasted as Harry removed every single article from Y/N’s body quickly as well as his own. He’s leaning forward to suck a few more kisses to her chest as his fingers slip down to crook right up into her hot center.

“No teasing,” Y/N complains, wrapping hands around his biceps and bringing him on top of her more fully. She’s squeezing around his two fingers with need, it has him groaning when he brings them up and sucks them between his pouty lips.

Then she’s not waiting any longer, reaching down and grabbing a hold of his thick length. Harry lets out rumble from his chest at the contact before she’s guiding him into her without any further ado.

“Baby,” Harry chastises as soon as she starts goading him into thrusts with her feet against him bum, pushing him into her harder than he’d usually start, “Y’squeezin’ me s’tight, you missed me too?”

Y/N nods, whining every time he pushes against her spot and sends a zip of arousal through her body. His trimmed hair around his base brushing against her clit causing delicious friction for her.

“No, y’need to tell me,” Harry huffs, hand gripping her jaw harsher than he would if they were having slow, intimate sex. He knew she loved it by the way her eyes twinkle with stubbornness.

“No,” She replies coyly, heels of her feet pressing hard against him to the point it itches with a slight pain. Harry loved his wife so much it was looney.

“It’s fine, don’t need y’to come for me to get off, dove,” Harry replies simply, speeding up his thrusts with his hand holding her jaw for him to press bruising kisses against. His teeth are coming to pull her bottom lip in between.

Something switches in her demeanor though without warning, her voice softer and pliant, “Tell me you love me.”

It has Harry slowing down his hips until he’s rocking deeper into her, going down on his elbows so their noses are bumping. He releases the grip of her chin and instead moves to her bum to encourage her to meet him halfway.

“I love you, s’much it hurts most days,” Harry replies obediently, knowing what his wife needed at that moment. Reassurance. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, then you made us a perfect little baby.”

She’s looking up at him with loving, grateful eyes, landing a gentle peck to his upper lip and letting her head fall back onto the floor. This is what she needed right now from her husband and he was so good at providing.

“Breaks my heart when y’don’t think your a good mum or wife. ‘Cause you’re everythin’ I ever wanted. Why’d you think I write every song about you, lovie? S’cause you’re my soulmate.”

“H,” She whimpers, emotion thick in her throat as she meets his eyes, “I love you so much. You’re the best husband and dad ever.”

“Baby,” Harry murmurs into her cheek, picking up speed as she starts to clench around him in a warning of her oncoming orgasm. He slips his hand down to press a few light rubs to her clit before she’s arching her back and moaning with pleasure.

“You look s’good, coming ‘round my cock,” Harry tells her, helping her ride through it before hitching her hips up even further and thrusting harshly until his hips stutter and he’s coming as well.

“Harry,” Y/N sighs, her breathing coming back to normal as she roams a hand down his shoulders and back - scratching lightly.

“Hmm, dove? Y’want my cock again? Need a few,” He replies into her neck, ever the teenage boy.

She giggles, “No, we have to catch a flight at eight in the morning and it’s currently four-thirty.”

Harry grunts before pulling out and sitting up, “Y’better have packed my favorite pajama pants or I’m goin’ to be cross with you.”

Y/N now regrets the second round of fun as soon as their alarm goes off. Her body sore from the position he’d twisted her into against the shower wall after they packed the rest of Sasha necessities.

They were nearly at the airport with Sasha nodding back off in the carseat. She was excited to see her Nana and Aunt Gemma once again.

Their daughter was in the cutest, comfiest jumpsuit with comic hearts all over it *** and adorable little sock sneakers*** that slide right on and off her feet.

Harry had chucked on black sunglasses, a black jumper with green lettering, black joggers, and blue checkered van with white socks. He was attempting to fly under the radar as much as possible because he knew paparazzi just sit outside the entrances to spot celebrities. ***

It was annoying but he could deal with it when he was mobbed at the airport when he was by himself. But when it was with his wife and baby - he couldn’t stomach it. It’s part of the reason they fly private from a private port.

When they pull up to the curb, a staff member is waiting for them and helps Harry as well as the driver put his luggage on a cart to be brought to the awaiting jet.

Y/N unbuckles the baby who is awake now but bleary-eyed as she’s sitting on the curve of her mother’s hip.

And well - that’s when the madness begins. A pap spots them within seconds of exiting the car and is pulling up his camera for the first shots, the other photographers sitting around follow suit.

As soon as one of them screams, “Harry Styles - look this way!” The jam packed area looks towards them, seeming fans of his start murmuring before following behind the paparazzi pulling their phones out.

Y/N is used to the crowds by now - but just like Harry, not with Sasha around. They tried to avoid situations like this as much as possible. The lights and loud noises were scary to the little girl.

“Mummy,” Sasha whines, picking her head up from her mother’s shoulder to stare wide-eyed at the gathering in front of them.

Harry started to feel anxiety because this was becoming a massive crowd - scratch that, it wasn’t a crowd it was a fucking mob of people. They were all too close, blinding the family with their flashes despite security attempting to push them back.

Fans were shoving and thrusting their phones in Harry’s face, shoving random things for him to sign in front of him. Paparazzi were screaming questions and taking thousands of pictures in a minute’s time.

Harry grabs onto Y/N’s hand tightly, their diaper bag on Harry’s shoulder, and begins to attempt to guide them through the swarm. It was like trying to move through cement, the crowd not budging despite security’s screams.

Sasha is full blown crying at this point into her mother’s neck. Y/N’s hand cupping the back of her head to keep her head down and out of the photographs - holding her as tightly as possible.

Y/N can hear Harry began to curse - signaling that he’s becoming stressed out because he would usually never be rude to the public despite their actions. But he couldn’t give a fuck when it came to his family.

“Move out of the way.”

“D’you not see I have a fuckin’ baby?”

“Get those fuckin’ cameras out of their faces.”

“Back the fuck away from my wife and baby.”

Then Y/N is being shoved by a teenage girl who trips when she thrusts her arm towards Harry. She tumbles into Y/N with her full weight and Y/N’s loses her footing, falling forward - letting go of Harry’s hand.

When she falls, she manages to catch herself with the arm that’s not holding her daughter. But she feels pain in her knees and Sasha emits a sharp wail that alerts Y/N her daughter is hurt.

“Sash, fuck,” Y/N gasps, her motherly instincts automatically kicking in and she’s cradling her daughter as tightly to her chest as she can, shielding her from the swarm who had quieted only a bit.

It must take Harry a second to realize that something had happened, he turns around - eyes frantic as he absolutely roars, “Back the fuck up! I’ll fuckin’ break each and everyone of your cameras! Fucking leeches.”

With that, he’s helping to pull you up and grasping at the two, “Are you okay? Wha’s hurt?”

Y/N just shakes her head, having a panic attack as she shuffles the crying baby into his arms. “Please, just...Sasha. I think she hurt her arm when I fell.”

“Daddy, ouch,” Sasha shrieks loudly into his sweatshirt as he hikes her up onto his chest, her little legs wrapped around his midsection.

“Ssh, y’okay,” Harry tries to reassure her, matching his wife’s panic.

The crowd seems to give way now, the parents rushing their daughter into the airport.

Employees guide them to the medical office on-site where it’s now silent and calm but the family feels anything but.

Sasha’s sobs have turned into moans and whimpers at this point - but come back with a vengeance when Harry has to set her on the exam table and wrestle her out of her clothes until she’s just sat in her diaper.

The nurse was so amazing and kind. She checked Sasha thoroughly for any signs of trauma or broken bones but luckily, it was just a nasty scrape on her forearm that was hurting her. It wasn’t anything serious.

The parents had such concern for their daughter that Y/N didn’t even realize she had bled through her white joggers at the knees ***. The nurse frowns, “Honey, you’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” She insisted even though her knees were aching.

“I’d like to examine your legs, dear,” The nurse tells her sternly, signaling that Harry can dress Sasha again.

He’s digging into the diaper bag for a spare out that they were always ready with. She was calming even more when Harry dressed her in a comfy pink set of clothes with little deer on them. ***

“Love, please let her,” Harry asks softly, pulling Sasha back onto his chest. Her thumb tucked into her mouth and her father hands her a plushie that Y/N had shoved in the bag last minute.

Y/N obliges with the pressure, wiggling the loose fabric down her legs until she’s just in her underwear and shirt - sits up on the table with her knees off to the side for her to examine.

Harry grimaces when he sees the multiple cuts and scrapes tainting her skin. A few slow trickles of blood still oozing from the gashes. The skin is already slowly covering purple and blue with bruises.

The nurse cleans her up, Y/N wincing when the alcohol brushes the cuts but Sasha is smiling again like nothing ever happened and cooing at her mum. It makes them both feel a lot better.

When they’re finally on the private jet, up high into the clouds away from the crowds and paparazzi - it feels like relief. ***

They had tucked their daughter onto the couch with her favorite fuzzy blanket and she’s asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

They trail back into the other part of the cabin so that they don’t disturb her, cuddling up on the couch together.

“M’so sorry, I’m such a bad fa-”

Y/N cuts him off before he begins, “If I’m not allowed to be a bad mum - you’re not allowed to be a bad father. It wasn’t y’fault that happened - it’s those careless, crazed people who have nothing better to do.”

Y/N was always the voice of reason in Harry’s head when he started to spiral.

Spiral because his fame was so overwhelming and got his family into difficult situations sometimes. She brought him back to reality.

“Hey, we’re both okay. Just a few scrapes. It was just a lesson, Harry. We just need to be safer and plan better, alright?” Y/N assures him softly, kissing under his chin before resting back - ready to sleep.

“Y’the best. Best mum, best wife,” Harry tells her, encompassing her in his loving hold.

let me know your thoughts bub

come talk to me <3

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devildomdisaster · 3 years

Note

I’d like to request a body switching scenario with [Satan, Asmo, Beelz, Solomon, Simeon] and an Gender Neutral MC with undisclosed chronic health issues. Like brittle bones that break if you step a little goofy, stress ulcers, sensitivity to light, joint pain, poor stamina, etc. I just want to see the boys go “You live like this?!”

Satan:

Satan has a habit of collecting rare magical objects. Somehow quite a few of these cause body-switching incidents.

The cursed object causes the two of you to lose consciousness for a few minutes. When he wakes up he is in immediate pain.

His first thought is that the spell must have caused this and you must be in pain too! If he, a demon, is in this much pain it must be excruciating for a human.

He rushes to you or tries to. But falls to his knees in shock as a shooting pain runs through him.

He blinks watering eyes and sees his body stirring on the floor and realizes you’ve switched bodies.

You sit up feeling better than you’ve felt in years. Wondering if this is ‘normal’ or if that cursed object gave you super healing.

It’s only when you hear your own voice calling your name that you realize you and Satan have switched bodies.

You can see the tears in his(your body's) eyes and know exactly what's happening. You’ve had chronic pain for years. And Satan is sitting in just the right way to send shooting pain up your spine.

“Lay down on your back,” you order him. He has just enough control to follow your order and lower your body down slowly.

You can see Satan’s relief on your face as the pain eases slightly. It takes a moment for the worst of the pain to subside and his breath to even out.

He’s staring at the ceiling when he speaks, voice still a little shaky, “You live like this?”

You hum out a yes.

“All- all the time?” he asks, horrified.

“Sometimes it's worse than others. If I move or sit in certain ways it gets real bad. But if I avoid those movements it’s bearable.”

Satan turns to you “This is what you call bearable?!”

You shrug, “That position is usually pretty safe. So yeah probably.”

He is careful to move your body a little as possible as he shifts to point at a spellbook. “That book-”

“Are you going to change us back?” you ask.

“I-” he hesitates. Clearly not wanting you to be in pain again.

“Look, Satan it’s not that I don’t enjoy being pain-free. But I’ve dealt with it for years now. I’ve learned how to function around it. I had to. You on the other hand are going to be laying on the floor for most of the day if you stay in my body.”

“I’m going to find a way to fix you.” He says firmly as you place the book in his hands.

“Promises, promise,” you sing, preparing yourself to experience the pain in your body again.

“I mean it. As soon as I can move again I am going to find a way to help you. Devildom magic has to be better than human medicine.”

Asmo:

Asmo bought you matching bracelets. “Look Mc, I bought us these bracelets! They are supposed to bring us closer together!”

Well, they did bring you closer together. Just not in the way Asmo intended.

When he clasped the bracelets on, you felt a shiver go down your spine and when you opened your eyes you felt...different. Better. There was no aching pain. For once the dazzling lights of Asmo’s room didn’t cause you to wince. That's when you realize you’ve switched bodies.

Asmo on the other hand immediately cringed and squeezed his eyes closed, clutching his(your) head.

Asmo groaned pitifully, teary eyes squinting at you “Mc, how do you do anything like this??”

He curls up beneath his covers, and you make your way around his room turning off all the lights and closing his curtains. Once the light is gone, Asmo peers out from beneath the covers, “Do you live like this all the time?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“No wonder your room is so dark. I thought you were just being dramatic.”

You shrug at him, “The Devildom is better than the human realm. There’s no bright sunlight here.”

Once the spell wears off, Asmo keeps the bracelet on both as a reminder of how you live with this chronic illness and as the intended purpose of showing how close the two of you are.

He buys you super dark glasses to try and filter out some of the bright light that bothers you.

and asks Solomon to help him find any magical treatments that might help you.

Beel:

Beel and you switch bodies after eating some of Solomon’s cooking.

Neither of you wants to eat Solomon’s cooking, but you had the misfortune to be the only two people who couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it.

Beel doesn’t know how it happened, Solomon doesn’t know how it happened, you sure as hell don’t know how this happened. But here you are with a strange magic ‘cake’ in hand, looking at your body from Beel’s eyes.

Your first thought is how strong you feel in Beel’s body. Like you could do anything. The exhaustion and joint pain you normally deal with is gone.

Is this how normal people live? Although you suppose a demon doesn’t count as a normal human, so it’s not such a good comparison.

You watch as Beel catches himself on the counter as he adjusts to the symptoms of your illness.

He lowers your body to the ground. Sitting gingerly as the movement causes the joint pain to flare.

“Mc, is this how you feel every day?” He is so so concerned about you! How do you function if you feel like this all the time? “Why haven’t you told anyone about this?”

“It’s ok, Beel. I’ve figured out how to deal with it.”

“It is not ok. Mc, we could have helped you!”

It’s strange to be lectured by your own voice and body. But Beel does a good job of it. He insists that you have to tell him when your symptoms act up and convinces you to let him speak with Lucifer about trying some magical treatments.

The potion doesn’t wear off for several hours. You feel a tad bit guilty about enjoying this when Beel is so obviously suffering, but you can’t remember the last time you felt so good. So capable.

Once the spell wears off Beel insists on carrying you around so you aren't as fatigued and to avoid aggravating your joint pain.

Be prepared for trying a string of different potions and spells to treat your illness, under the watchful eyes of Beel and Lucifer.

Solomon:

After hearing about Lucifer and Satan’s body-switching incident Solomon went looking for another cursed book.

He’d heard some rumor about Satan’s book having a twin and was determined to find it.

And find it he did.

You accidentally touched the book at the same time as him and switched bodies.

Solomon is more intrigued than anything else. “Do you live like this all the time? If so, you do a remarkable job of hiding it.”

He is going to test the limits of your body’s capabilities. He wants to know what situations cause pain or discomfort so that you can’t pretend to be ok when you aren’t.

You’ll have to warn him if he is doing anything that might permanently harm your body.

Unlike some of the others, Solomon doesn’t immediately look for a way to switch back.

When the spell wears off Solomon has a near-complete understanding of your condition. He knows what causes pain, what doesn’t, and what situations you should absolutely avoid.

“Mc, you need to stop pretending you are ok when you’re not. I’ll be here to help you when you need it. And if that help happens to be stopping you from doing foolish things to save face then so be it.”

Solomon keeps a close eye on you from now on. He respects you enough to not tell anyone about your condition if you don’t want him to, but he will also come up with the strangest excuses to remove you from activities he knows will aggravate your condition.

If there is magic that can be used to help you Solomon will find it. Just be prepared to feel a little bit like a lab rat while he figures out the perfect spell or potion to help you.

Simeon:

Simeon wants to know what it feels like to be human. He thinks it would give him a greater understanding of humanity.

He mentions this to Solomon, who being the chaos loving wizard he is, makes a potion to allow Simeon to switch bodies with you.

The problem occurs when Solomon 'forgets’ to tell you both that he’s already put the potion in your tea.

Simeon is shocked. He finds himself in your body. Looking at himself through your eyes. And by god does your body hurt!

“Mc, I’m dreadfully sorry, but I think Solomon’s little joke may have gone wrong. I-everything hurts.”

You blink at Simeon...er Simeon in your body. Mind taking a moment to catch up with the sudden body switch. You feel great. Part of that might be due to being in an angel's body, but mostly it's due to the lack of pain.

“Oh, everything's fine on my end. So it must be my chronic pain. It’s worse today than others.”

“Wh-what do you do when it’s bad?”

“Usually I try to distract myself. Or try to take a nap and hope I wake up feeling better. But we’d made plans and I didn’t want to cancel so…”

“So you decided to deal with extra pain for my sake? Oh, Mc. You should have told me you live like this. I can help”

“There’s no point, Simeon. Not a single doctor I’ve been to has found anything wrong with me. I didn’t want anyone here to pity me.”

“I am an angel, Mc. I’m quite sure I can do a bit more than your human doctors.”

You help Simeon to his room where you spend the afternoon watching human world movies to help distract him.

Simeon sleeps fitfully next to you and as you drift off you wonder if that is how you always look when you let your guard down enough to show your pain.

When the potion wears off you are both asleep, curled up next to each other.

When you wake up you are back in your own body. Simeon is sitting next to you slipping a charmed bracelet onto your wrist. “This is from the Celestial realm. It should help keep your pain at a more manageable level until I can find a more permanent solution.”

#obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me satan #satan x mc #obey me x mc #obey me x gender neutral reader #asmo x mc #asmo x reader #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x mc #beel x mc #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon #obey me simeon x mc #obey me simeon x reader

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deru-shigaraki · 3 years

Text

Yandere Satan (obey me imagine)

"Kitten~" His voice purred, a sharp blade dragging along the wall as he walked down the dark hallway. You were trembling uncontrollably. You're hands covering your mouth, carefully trying to calm yourself so your breathing wouldn't be loud enough to give up where you were hiding. You had been lucky to get out of that cage. It was a mistake that most certainly wouldn't be tolerated again. This was your only chance to escape. You had to stay strong. All you had to do was get to the outside. You were certain that the woods surrounding the house would give you enough cover to out run and loose him. The thought was simple, but execution seemed more and more impossible the closer he came to your hiding space. The cabinet hardly held you, it was small but it was the only place you could think to hide in such limited amount of time. You stuffed yourself inside, ignoring the scrapes and bumps you gave yourself as you struggled. The door hadn't closed all the way but you didn't think the crack seemed all that noticeable. You shuttered as Satan's footsteps entered the kitchen. His heal clicked on the tile floor in a threatening way. Everything he did felt like an attempt on your life. After being trapped there in the house with him for a few weeks you learned your lesson about under estimating him. You knew better than to doubt that at any given second he could snap. You were unaware of his constant mood swings at first, and that cost you a lot of pain. "It's really naughty to hide you know." He was angry, you could hear it in his voice, even though he masked it with a smile. You allowed yourself to peak through the crack, wanting to see where he was in case an opportunity to run came up. You sucked in a breath as you seen how close he actually was. His legs stood right next to the counter, only about a foot away from where you had stashed yourself. You were too low on the ground to see much more. The view under the sink was limited and you didn't care to try and test those limits. Satan sighed deeply, leaning against the counter. "You couldn't have gone far..." He mumbled, not really talking to you anymore, it was a comment to himself. He didn't think you were in ear shot, maybe that meant you were safe for now. If he didn't think you were in the kitchen, he would have to look further into the house, leaving the front door open to break out of. You took extra care to stay still, you held the bell on your collar tightly, not wanting it to give you away. It had been what drawn him this way in the first place. The jiggle of the cat bell had rang almost violently when you entered the cabinet. Now that you were sitting still it wasn't much of a threat but you knew that if you wanted to get out of here you would need to ditch the collar completely. You had tried before, Stripping it off when you were left alone in your room. However that action was forbidden and when you break a rule...Well...You know. He wasn't light on punishments. He was a cruel sadist. Seeing you in pain seemed to get him off even more than when you're good for him. Not to say that he wasn't more pleasant when you cooperated. Some nights you were even able to relax. The two of you would sit in the living room, he'd force you onto his lap which of course the first few times where a bit uncomfortable, but after you quit fighting, he would reel you in. His body was always so warm, so comfy. He would pet your hair, kneading your head in a some what affectionate way. He would be reading or listing to music. Sometimes he would just talk to you about his day, discuss his work, or what he seen on his daily runs. You weren't as difficult to control at that time of day. It was basically the cool down of the night. To get you ready for bed. You actually felt yourself relaxing slightly as you thought back to those moments. It was quickly ruined by the sound of Satan slamming his fist onto the counter above you, before his footsteps stomped away into the house. You then fiddled with the collar around your neck, deciding to ditch it, before it gave you away. peaking out of the crack in the small door, you didn't see or hear him. You figured now was as good as ever to bolt out of the house. You crawled out of the cabinet slowly and silently. You avoided going down the hall way that you had seen Satan go down and you crept down another, hoping that a door would lead to the outside. You tip toed, holding your breath. It was incredibly tense searching the house. You hadn't ever made it this far, and you doubted he would ever let it happen again. You heard footsteps riding up on you and you hurried to find an unlocked room, slipping inside. The room was dark, not having time to find a light switch, you backed up just a bit, watching a shadow move past from underneath the door. You held your breath, only releasing air when you couldn't hear his footsteps any longer. You sniffed the air around you, catching a whiff of something unsettling. The scent of the room was damp and rotten, the wood floor underneath her feeling wet and sticky. You gagged on the heavy odor, feeling as if you were being strangled by the disgusting smell. Your body froze as you heard an unsettling noise. Every hair on your body stood up as a low growl came from the corner of the room. Turning around slowly, you seen a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at you. The eyes lunged forward and you screamed running towards the door as you heard a chain scrapping across the floor. You were slipping on the liquid that spread over the floor. You panicked as your feet went out from underneath you. You laid on the ground a slash of pain going through your leg as you felt the creature pawing at you. You crawled away swiftly, feeling blood drain from your attack wound. You didn't hold back on your screaming, at this point you were hoping that Satan would find you. It was dark and the monster behind you was thrashing and making horrifying noises. The door in front of her was bashed open, the light from the hallway lighting the room. Satan stood there in shock, seeing you on the ground covered in blood. You looked down at your hands and noticed the the liquid that you had slipped on was blood, but not yours. You erupted into another fit of screaming, causing the creature behind you to freak as well, looking over your shoulder and seeing that the monster was an actual tiger. Your mind felt like it was about to explode, your fear causing you to tremble uncontrollably. You couldn't believe it. Satan on the other hand looked calm, but annoyed. He walked past you without a word. You watched him as he approached the big cat. The animal seemed to cowar when he got close, it's tail going down between it's legs, its ears going back as if it was ashamed. Satan didn't hit the animal, he raised his arm up as though he was going to but once his hand lowered, he only flicked it's head. The big cat meowed upset and then walked into the corner, where you seen a few bones. That had explained the body everywhere. He was feeding that tiger people. Was he going to feed you to the animal too? When his attention finally fell onto you, your heart dropped. You started to tremble, your eyes welling with tears as he stepped closer to you. He kneeled down shaking his head. "You're such a naughty girl, if I didn't love you so much, I would have let Coda eat you." He told you and your lip quivered, glancing past him and too the tiger. "C-Coda?" You and and he nodded. "yes, my cat." He stated before lifting you up. He held you bridal style, your face instantly pushing into his chest. You couldn't help the tears that were falling from your eyes. Satan sighed deeply. "Don't you start that, if you cry now you're going to get tired and wanna nap, then You'll be up all night." He warned. You were surprised at his attitude. You were crying over fear, over loss. You had tried to run, he caught you. Why wasn't he more upset. He of course sounded angry, but he wasn't blowing up at you, just scolding you. Satan carried you out into the kitchen and set you down on the table. He then started to look at your cuts, seeing that they weren't deep at all. You were slightly embarrassed that you were screaming so loud for just a few scratches, but the tiger was pretty scary. He raised an eyebrow to you and your faced blushed. His mouth quirked into a half smile before turning around and filling a glass up with some water. You watched him closely as he brought you the glass, handing it to you. He seemed suspiciously clam, not like you had expected him to be. As you sipped at the water, his hand reached up to pat your head. "Where's your collar kitten?" He asked you choked on the water. He grabbed the glass before you dropped it. "It's *cough* under the sink." You spoke out, face red as he chuckled. "Is that where my little pet was hiding~" He cooed, retrieving the collar and returning to your side. You flinched as he wrapped it around your neck. "There you go, all better now." He purred and kissed your forehead. You were shocked at how sweetly he was treating you. As he adjusted your collar you swallowed the lump in your throat, speaking softly. "Satan..." his eyes met yours. You bit your lip. "Are um...are you going to punish me?" You asked and he tilted his head. "Oh? Honey why would I punish you?" He asked. You hung your head, feeling ashamed. "Because I was naughty..." Satan smiled at you, placing his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs so that he could place himself in between them. "I thought about it...I was very angry at you, Hell, I was actually excited to have a reason to play rough with you." He explained and you frowned. "You're not going to?" You asked and he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. "I messed up today. I didn't keep a good enough eye on you and you ended up getting hurt. It could have been a lot worse. My cat could have eaten you, you would have been dead...It I lost you MC..." He bit his lip, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want to think of what I would do, if you weren't with me. I love you." he whispered the last part. You thought a moment. "It did hurt me...Just a little, but you...You sometimes hurt me more than this...I know I make you angry, I'm just so scared of you that sometimes I make mistakes on accident." You told him and Satan nodded. "I get carried away sometimes, and for that I apologize. I won't try and deceive you, I like to make you cry. When I hurt you, You cling to me, you beg me to stop, you make promises to me...It's so much power, and you hand it over so willingly." He explained, pressing his lips against yours. You didn't fight the kiss, instead you actually found yourself leaning into it, your mouth opening for him but he pulled away. He stared at you satisfied. "You're warming up aren't you? Pretty soon you're going to be the one stealing kisses." He teased and you blushed shaking your head. His hands cradled your cheeks, loving eyes staring into yours. You let your eyes flutter shut, expecting another kiss, but instead, you felt his thumb slip into your mouth. You frowned, opening your eyes, looking up at him confused. He smiled, pushing it in deeper. You whined, but did what he wanted, sucking on it gently. He leaned his forehead against yours, feeling as your tongue swirled around him. Your lips made a sucking sound as you suckled the tip of his finger like a bottle. Satan chuckled. "Don't be too good at that, I'll have to give you something else to suck on~" He purred and you pulled away from him, your face red. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, your legs wrapping around him as he picked you up. "Let's get you cleaned up."

#obeyme #Obeymesmut #obeymeshallwedate #shallwedate #satanxreader #satansmut #obeymesatan #yandere #yanderexreader #animeimagines #obeymefanfic

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alreadyblondenow · 3 years

Photo

A demon or an angel?

▸ Taeyong x female!reader ▸ 1,836k words ▸ SMUT, SMUT, FLUFF ▸ Pure fiction, Slight exhibitionism, BDSM themes (I tried, it’s my first time), everything is done with consent + safe word, blindfold, ICE PLAY, tying of both arms and legs, smacking, unprotected sex, overstimulating, teasing, swearing, mentions of alcohol, Taeyong drinking your tequila shot hehe. ▸ For Neo Smut Collective’s drabble festival, Wet & Wild

Everything was not planned.

You just wanted to have a good time after a long day at work and go home drunk then plan on hating yourself the next day because you had too much alcohol. But no. Everything you planned on doing was completely forgotten when you met a demon that looked like an angel by the bar who shamelessly drank your tequila shot.

“Excuse me,” you said to him with a flirty smile, not even annoyed at what he did.

“You go here often?” he came closer to you and put his elbow on the bar counter and placed his hand on your lower back to keep you away from strangers who move recklessly.

“Just for tonight” you smiled. Giving him a hint that you’re flirting back.

“I tell you this,” he clears his throat and gave you a small smile, “try not to get drunk tonight so you won’t get a bitch headache tomorrow and spend your day with me, headache-free” he winked after he lay down his offer.

“I don’t even know your name stranger,” you giggled and fixed his tie, only to pull him closer to you and the smell of expensive perfume explains it all. This gentleman right here is not just anyone.

“Oh you’ll know my name, in fact, you will get to moan my name if you just do what you’re told” his breath tickles your neck and immediately made your legs weak. Shamelessly, he left kisses on your neck and collar bones to make you say ‘yes’ and to show you what lies ahead if you agree.

“I’ll say yes if you give me a ride home”

“Then it’s settled. Right this way, please”

And just before he takes you home, the heat of the moment did not stop you two from making out at the back of his car while his driver pretends like he’s not hearing anything. You invited him to your house and fuck there, but he declined you like the gentleman that he is and told you that he had been drinking way before you arrived at the bar, “I can’t fuck you good if I’m tipsy but don’t worry-“ he pulled down the collar of your blouse, just enough to expose chest and cleavage to him so he can kiss you there and leave a mark. “you will enjoy everything that I will do to you tomorrow”

On the next day, he picked you up with a different car but this time he’s the one driving. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a proper hug, nothing too lustful just a decent greeting to start your day right. And while he was driving, he holds your hand and kisses it whenever he can. Making you smile and your heart flutter so you know his intentions.

“Are you going to take me to a fancy hotel? Fuck me in your private jet? Yacht?”

What you just said made him laugh. Oh his smile makes him even more handsome, you thought. “No and no. Though, I can. But I prefer bringing you to my house, sounds good? Unless you prefer my private jet or bask under this afternoon sun, I can make it happen”

His way of flexing his riches was amusing that you two just laughed and decided that his house is the best destination. Though he promised to fly you next time and have a short vacation with him if today goes well.

When you arrived at his house, you weren’t surprised to see a huge house because you quite expected it already. It was quiet and spacious but you didn’t have enough time to snoop around for he is quick to drag you towards his room and show how hungry he is for you.

You just met last night but obviously, he misses you already and you can tell it by the way he kisses you and touch you.

“What’s the name I’m going to moan today?” you reminded him of what he owes you.

“Taeyong,” he started to undress you, “baby, honey, babe, whatever you want,” he smacks your ass deliciously and both landed on his king-sized bed. Both hands are busy undressing each other and caressing each other’s bodies. And when you’re left with only your matching lacy underwear, especially for him, he stopped you from unhooking your bra and made you lie comfortably in bed as he pulls away from your lips.

He reached on his bedside table and showed you a black Louis Vuitton bandeau, “Do you trust me?” you nod your head ‘yes’, “What if I tie you? Do I still have your consent?” he waited for your answer while he scans your body and feeds his eyes, of course, you said ‘yes’. “Your safe word is rose” he says and kissed your temple before he covers your eyes and takes your breath away by pushing you on the mattress without a warning, kissing your body with want as he removes your bra and puts both your arms above you to tie them securely. By this time you feel very excited and you just can’t wait for him to make his next move.

But be careful what you wish for. Because you didn’t expect him to spread your legs wide and tie them both, right after he removes your lacy panties. Now you’re left with nothing.

For a moment, he stepped out of the bed to fully undress and feel him come back when the mattress dipped on your side. Still, he isn’t making a move but you hear sounds of water and ice from where the bedside table is located and-

“Mmm. Fuck! That’s cold, ahhh” you moaned deliciously and tried to fold your legs but you really couldn’t. You moved your body to ease the sensitivity but nothing is working, so you have no choice and accepted it like a good girl he expects you to be. Up and down, and oh so slowly, Taeyong moves the ice cube on your slit while lying comfortably on his side. Gently and carefully, building the momentum and giving you the full experience of what he’s doing to you.

“Good? Just nod if you can’t talk,” he teased you with his question but you nod and let out sounds of approval to further support your answer.

“Told you you’ll enjoy it,” he says and left a kiss on your lips, just long enough to make you catch his lips and ask for more when he pulls away intentionally. “Lift your chin,” he commands and went on top of you. You thought he will finally kiss you there but no, the gentleman has something in mind. He bit the ice cube and brush it on your neck, making you shiver and moan near his ear as he wet your chest with the ice in his mouth. And when the ice melted and became small, Taeyong ran his thumb on your lips and planted a kiss… only to transfer the ice from his mouth to your mouth but not letting go of the kiss until the ice is fully melted.

“I chose the right person,” he says and gently caresses your body before running another ice cube in between your boobs.

“Nipples please” you moan out but he put his pointer finger on your lips and made you suck it.

“But since you asked so nicely,” he let out a dark chuckle and ran his thumb on your nipples, gently and carefully pinching them with his cold fingers before he finally ran the ice around your nipples. Going in slow circles and watching you part your lips and let out soft moans beneath him. You can feel that he is very hard already because his cock is poking your thigh.

He bit your left nipple before he flips you effortlessly on your stomach and ran an ice cube on your back which tickled you and made you laugh… but he wanted you to moan, not laugh. So he smacked your ass and said, “moan” very sternly that he gave you goosebumps. But all you can do is let out soft sounds and cute giggles.

“you think I’m still playing?” he asks you while spreading kisses on your nape and on your shoulders, making you shiver with his low voice alone.

And just like that, he lines his cock on your cunt and slowly pushed in, caging your body with his strong arms. “There’s the moan that I’ve been asking for,” he says when you finally let out a string of delicious moans.

He thrust and thrust hard that you feel the impact on your body. Given that you’re on your stomach and your body is not arched, your hole is extra tight, which he loved so much and fucked you harder by the second.

There’s that devil in that at angelic form, you thought.

Taeyong smacked and smacked your ass as he fucks you until he cums, hurting you good and making your body sore.

After he cums, you were the one who needed to catch your breath not him and he noticed that. Maybe he was too rough on your first day together? So he decided to release you and untie you, kissing the red marks on your wrists and ankles to show you that he’s sorry.

“Are we done?” you asked weakly.

“Catch your breath baby, you’ll need it” he says and put you on top of him. Switching your positions effortlessly, “one of my many ways of saying ’sorry I was too rough’,” he giggles and soothes your back, “ride me, you will cum I promise” he added and kissed you on the lips but not for long. His lips traveled on your boobs as you line his cock on your cunt and slowly go down.

You moan and moan as you roll your hips and feel his tongue swirl around your nipples and his hands roam freely around your body. You feel very much appreciated by the way he lets you fuck him. “Can’t believe I’m not gonna last” you scoffed and bounced up and down his cock, putting both of you on edge and ready to reach your climax together.

“Keep doing that” he says. But you reached for his lips and kiss him as you dive together towards lust, watch him closely and see how he lost his mind when he reaches his climax.

“Ohh-“ you bit his shoulder when you finally reached your high. Closing both of your eyes tightly as you shiver on top of him and feel him shoot his cum inside you for the second time.

Unlike earlier that your body is cold because of the ice, now your both burning and sweating but shivering because of oversensitivity.

“Still good?” he asked and gently placed you down the mattress, kissing your sensitive body while pulling out and keeping you close.

“Thank you for choosing me,” you whispered and enjoyed his warmth, “how about that second date then?” you said before closing your eyes and drifting to sleep.

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blxetsi · 3 years

Note

Imagine pampering Reiner. I would love to kiss him silly 🙈 is it obvious he’s my favorite character?

id like to kiss him silly too 🤩🤚 tysm for the request !!!

pampering reiner after a long day (modern au)

warnings: taking care of ur man 😁👍 uhh construction worker!reiner (of age, obv), gn!reader, face care n shit idk, cute names like baby and love, mentions of sexual harrasment/assault in a workplace.

living in the city had it ups and downs. well, so did everything in life, but you never really thought about that until you moved into the city. you and reiner both came from a small town, and then went to the same college in a bigger town, before you two decided to move to the big city together. downs happened more often than ups, but anything was an up if you were with reiner. rent was expensive, especially for the shoebox of an apartment you two live in, but youve both made it into your home, a cozy little sanctuary away from the rest of this chaotic world. another down was that the city never sleeps, someone, somewhere was always working, and you too found yourself taking nightshifts at the diner you worked at. it was minimum wage, and middle aged men and women would come in and flirt (more like harass), but your coworkers were nice, and if you made sure to dress up a bit you'd get a fat tip.

you and reiner originally thought that you'd get well paying jobs as soon as you moved into the city, which was a lie. considering the time, effort, and money you both put into getting your degrees, you thought you were more than qualified for certain jobs, but you werent, and that sucked, and now your boyfriend over works himself physically building houses while you let freaks make weirdly sexual comments about you so you can earn more money. it sucks on both ends, but you know that you'd do anything to be with reiner, so you could take a couple of gropes and sleazy jokes.

today you had gotten off work early, your boss closing the store because of a family emergency. you felt bad for the man, he was nice, and offered to switch you to dish duty when he'd seen older people be weird with you, you'd declined knowing that you wouldn't earn as much in the back. he was a family man, and generous, and cared about others, which was a nice change from other employers in the past. you were surprised reiner wasn't home yet, because today was friday, and he usually got off fridays around six, but now it was almost nine, and you were starting to get a bit worried.

just as you started gnawing on your lip, your phone vibrated beside you. grabbing it you saw it was reiner calling you, and quickly paused your episode of shameless to answer. "rei, where are you ?"

"just got off work baby." he sighed.

he sounded exhausted, and you could hear cars honking so you knew he was outside.

"do you need me to come get you ?"

"no, its okay. jack's giving me a ride home."

you let out a breath, at least he didn't have to wait for the bus, getting a ride meant he'd be home faster. "okay my love. you want me to run you a bath for when you come home ?" you knew how sore reiner got from working, and being out in the sun all day. with the weather becoming warmer it would become harder on him, and he'd always forget to wear sunscreen which meant he'd burn.

he let out a soft moan. "that sounds great baby, thank you so much."

you heard talking from his end, assuming it was jack. you tried to keep listening but reiner's voice cut in again. "only ten more minutes and im back to you."

you smiled, getting excited that he'd be here so soon. "okay lovey, i'll get that bath started. i love you."

you could hear his smile on the other end. "i love you too baby, thank you so much."

you quickly said your goodbyes before hanging up, cutting him off. you felt a bit bad but quickly brushed it off as you walked to your bathroom. you got everything together, moving from the bathroom to your bedroom and back again. you set out a clean towel, a pair of sweats and a white tank top for him, as well as a hoodie if he was cold. you filled up the tub, making sure it was hot, before adding a cup of epsom salt and stirring it around with your hand. you got up again, going to the kitchen area of your little home and filling up a cup with a jug of cold water from the fridge. you brought it back to the small bathroom, sitting it on the tank cover of the toilet. he needed to be hydrated.

you were changing the sheets of your shared bed when you heard the from door open, close, then lock. reiner dropped his backpack and toed off his shoes. he hung up his jacket before slowly walking around the apartment, cracking his neck and stretching his arms above his head. "baby ? where are you ?"

"in here rei, just changing the sheets." you called out. you could hear his heavy footsteps make his way down the hall towards you.

he thought you looked beautiful. dressed in just a tee shirt (his tee shirt) and plaid pyjama pants, the lights from the city reflecting all around the room and on your body, a small lamp which casted a soft warm glow around the room, made your eyes shine.

"you don't have to change the sheets baby." he whispered, making his way over to you. he helped you put the comforter over the bed. a simple grey colour, which matched the baby pink sheets and pillow cases.

"i wanted to. you always feel good sleeping in new sheets." you answered, making your way around the bed to him. you wrapped your arms around his torso while he wrapped his around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head. he sighed, and just held you while you rubbed his back.

"your bath is ready, and i left you clothes for you there too." you whispered. he hummed in response before squeezing you tighter.

"i missed you so much." his words were soft, but held a lot of weight, and your heart hurt because you knew he was working himself to the bone.

"it's okay baby, i'm here now."

he nodded before kissing your head again. he smelt your hair, sighing before pulling back to look at your face. "did you shower ?"

"when i got home, yeah."

"okay. i won't be long then."

you shook your head, moving your arms so you could hold his face in your hands. "no rei, take all the time you need. i'll wait for you." you knew that reiner was too tired to fight you on that, so he simply nodded, giving you a soft kiss before stripping down to his underwear and leaving the room.

you put his clothes in the hamper, putting his wallet on his bedside table and plugging his phone in to charge. then you opened up the window so the cool breeze could come in, you knew reiner liked the room to be a bit cooler at night.

slowly you made your way to the bathroom, peaking in to see him in the bath, the water up to his neck as he was almost fully submerged. his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow, you could see his tan lines from working. his muscles that bulged even when relaxed and the crinkles in his eyes from smiling so much, even when he was so young. his stuble which was just a bit darker than his sandy blond hair, and his calloused hands from his labour, wrapped around his torso in a hug. those hands that held you, that protected you, that tickled you, that loved you. you never got to admire reiner often, usually because he'd notice early on and tell you to stop, he'd get all flustered and his face would turn red, getting all blushy that his lover wanted to look at how beautiful he was. and he was, reiner was gorgeous, and its a blessing to call him yours.

his voice was raspy from not speaking for so long. "baby, stop looking at me like that." you could see the apples of his cheeks turn pink while his lips quirked up into a small.

"i can't help it, you're just so pretty." you replied, walking into the small bathroom and closing the door behind you. it took less than two steps to get towards him, and you crouched down beside the tub to look at him closer.

he slowly opened his eyes, like he was in a daze, before peeling an arm away from his body and holding it out for you to take. you grabbed his hand with both of yours, rubbing his palm and fingers while you softly kissed his knuckles. you two never looked away as you did so, relishing in the soft moment together.

he closed his eyes again, and sighed while moving deeper into the tub, making the water go from his neck to his chin, and his long legs stick out of the water at the knees. "you know that face mask you have baby ? the one that peels off and makes your face smooth ?" he asked, his voice echoing throughout the room.

"yeah," you mumbled against his hand. "you wanna use it ? want me to put it on for you ?"

he nodded. you slowly put his hand back into the water before crawling to the cabinet under the sink, reaching for your peel off face mask, you turned around and went back to your love, shifting as close as you could ger before the toilet got in the way, before opening the tube and squeezing some onto your hand. the clear gel felt cool on your finger tips, and you rubbed it along both pointer and middle finger on your two hands, before leaning over the side of the tub and rubbing some on his face. you made sure to keep it away from his facial hair and his eyebrows. after rubbing it in you rinsed your hands off in the bathwater, before moving them to hold reiner's hand again. "if you cant peel some if it off after its dry just rinse with warm water, okay ?" reiner nodded before squeezing your hand. "thank you baby."

you two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to each others breathing and the slight swish of the water. "i'm gonna make some tea, would you like any ?" you asked.

reiner shook his head. "i'll just steal a sip of yours."

you chuckled before kissing the back of his hand, a smile on your face. "okay my love, i'll wait for you in the bedroom."

he leaned over quickly, grabbing your face with his free hand and giving you a soft kiss, over and over again. his lips were a bit chapped, which caused your own to tickle, but to him it felt great. this was so domestic, so simple, it made him feel safe, it made reiner forget all about his horrible day. all he could think about was you, all he could feel was you.

because of your kiss some of the product from his face mask had transferred onto yours, causing him to giggle before wiping it away with his pruny hand. "i love you so much baby. i'm so happy to be with you." he whispered, his face millimetres from your own.

"thank you rei, i love you too." you responded. you loved him so much, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. and you're sure you will.

you pecked his lips before kissing his hand one more time, then you got up and left the bathroom, reiner's eyes on you as you went.

you went about tidying up the living room, putting away reiner's dinner on the table (if he didn't scarf it down when he came in, you knew he wouldn't touch it until tomorrow) turning off the tv and folding up the blanket you were snuggled up with on the couch almost an hour ago.

you quickly boiled your water for your tea, getting out your favourite mug and putting the tea bag in. then you went into your bedroom, where you moved through the open window to sit on the fire escape. the breeze of the night brought with it a chill, and you wished you'd brought that blanket with you. the lights and the cars moving down brought comfort to you. after living here for over a year, the noise became berable to you, just second nature.

you could hear faint shuffling inside the bedroom, before reiner's head popped out of the window. "i was looking everywhere for you."

you gave him a sheepish smile. "sorry my love, would you like to join me ?" he nodded and crawled out of the window too, which was a bit hard considering his long limbs. he sat down beside you, his skin looking soft and smooth, his hair wet and all dressed in his hoodie and sweats.

the two of you huddled together, watching people walk by and cars drive around, looking into the windows of other apartments and stores, seeing if you could see the people inside doing weird things. you two passed the mug of tea between each other, before all that was left was the wet tea bag at the bottom of the cup. reiner reached up and set it on the window sill, before pulling you into his side by your shoulders.

"do your muscles hurt still ?" you asked.

reiner shook his head before replying. "not anymore, thank you again for the bath."

you giggled, turning your head to look up at him, he looked down at your own head, resting on his shoulder, and matched the smile that painted your lips. "you don't have to thank me so much silly, i love taking care of you."

he rubbed his nose against your own. "i love taking care of you too. which is why i was thinking of looking for a new job."

your eyes opened again and he watched your reaction closely. "that tech company near downtown, they're looking for a new software developer. i've already set up an interview, i just didn't know when to tell you." he whispered.

your eyes lit up as you smiled again, leaning up and smacking kisses all over his face. he let out a loud laugh before cupping your face with his hand, guiding your head away from his own so he could speak, but you started talking before that could happen. "i'm so happy for you. i hate seeing you come home so tired and in pain."

he nodded. "and i hate seeing you come home with a new story of some creep making moves on the love of my life." he replied, giving you a soft kiss.

you two sat in silence again. reiner felt happy that you weren't upset about his idea for a new job, he had a degree, and a great mind, and he somehow knew he'd get this job.

"y'know," you started. "that new art museum that opened near the science centre, they're hiring too. said on their website they're looking for tour guides."

reiner pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible. "baby you'd be great at that. you know so many art things."

"'art things?'" you laughed. "yeah, maybe i'll call and see if i could get an interview."

reiner nodded. "that sounds great baby. but tomorrow, your tea made me so sleepy and now i just wanna sleep." you shook your head with a chuckle before pecking him on the lips again.

you two made your way inside, closed the window, and got ready for bed. while you put the mug back into the kitchen sink, reiner took off his hoodie and unfolded the comforter from the bed, ready to get under. when you came back inside you shut off the lamp and got in beside him, where reiner immediately pulled you into his chest.

your head rested on his bare pec, and you could hear his heart thumping. he was calm, content, and happy with you in his arms. and you two went to bed that night with dreams about your future together.

not me going overboard with that one 😁👍 anyways love u all stay safe requests r open 😍🙏

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun x gn!reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun headcanons #modern au #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #attack on titan reiner #aot reiner #attack on titan requests

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cherry-glade · 3 years

Text

only ever pain (until you)

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: it’s been a while since this has happened—jason’s been having a good run—but life is always out to get him, and soon enough, he's curled up into a ball of nothing but pain, aching muscle and brittle bone. luckily, like the last few times, he has you now to help him get through it.

warnings: some angst, jason being mostly touch-averse in this, jason also being quite self-deprecating, sensory overload, hurt/comfort, ptsd and hallucinations, chronic illness (fibromyalgia).

w/c: 4786 words

Jason doesn't know why it happens—maybe it's a side effect of either the Lazarus Pit, or of living in a world that he doesn’t belong in, where he should technically be dead, or perhaps it's just the trauma from the Joker's beating coming back to haunt him—but some days, it's as though all Jason is capable of feeling is pure, unadulterated pain.

He knows that it’s going to be one of those days from the minute he wakes up, wincing and turning away as the sun peeks through the window and makes his eyes sting, even though they’re still closed. He tries to roll over onto his stomach, not realising that the sheets are tangled up around his legs, and ends up falling off the bed with a dull thud, knee bashing into the floor.

Shoving the sheets away, Jason pushes himself up into a sitting position, stretching his leg out and noticing the faint redness to his skin, but he doesn’t take much note of it as he rubs at his surprisingly sore knee, preoccupied by the sudden throbbing pain in his head and behind his right eye, a sure sign of an incoming migraine.

Groaning, he stands up, damn near clinging onto the bedside table for support as he picks up his phone up and taps on the screen to check the time. It’s nearly noon, so you must already be at work. Jason usually wakes up on time though for you to kiss him goodbye, and the fact that he didn’t today is just another sign that things are probably going to end up going to shit.

Jason’s legs feel weak as he walks to the bathroom. He swears he can feel each individual fibre in the carpeting, rough against his feet. Jason pushes on and relieves himself before washing his hands and splashing cold water onto his face, nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor, but he manages to catch himself before he cracks his head open on the sink.

”You look like a piece of shit that got turned into roadkill, and are very lucky that Y/N isn’t here right now to witness this,” Jason says to his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he leans forward, noting his bloodshot eyes and the bags underneath them, skin paler than usual.

He blinks hard at the mirror and then stumbles out towards your kitchen, regretting not putting any socks on first as his bare feet come into the contact with the tiled floor, cold and leeching any remaining heat from his body. Jason fills the kettle up with water and switches it on, studying the darkening bruise on his knee as he waits for it to come to a boil.

Surprisingly enough, the bruise is already reddish in colour, almost verging on purple and tender to the touch as Jason prods at it with his fingers like a curious child, hissing at the pain radiating from it. He tries his best to ignore the dull ache as he makes himself a quick cup of jasmine tea, specially bought for him by Alfred, fingers trembling all the while.

Jason has to pick up his mug with both hands, taking a moment to let the warmth of the tea seep through his body, and then makes the mistake of taking a step back towards the bedroom. He vaguely recalls having a conversation with Tim and Damian, a while ago now, about if he would rather walk on heated coals or a trail of Legos. Remembers Damian absentmindedly mentioning that he’d already done the former as part of his training in the League of Assassins.

Remembers chiming in himself and saying that he’d done the same, then having to squirm away from Dick when he’d gotten that oddly sad look on his face as soon as Damian mentioned it—that look that said Jason was going to get a hug whether he liked it or not. Jason had barely escaped by pushing Damian into Dick’s arms instead, and Dick had apparently been appeased by that as he curled around Damian like an octopus, still giving Jason puppy eyes.

This, right now? Taking this single step? It feels infinitely worse than both options combined.

Jason grits his teeth and forces himself through walking the few paces to your shared bedroom, feeling like he’s about to collapse onto the floor the whole way. He has to take a break when he reaches the doorway, clinging to the doorframe with one hand, and tries to keep his other hand to stay as still as physically possible so it doesn’t spill, even as the handle of the mug feels bruising against his palm.

Jason takes a moment to breathe in deep, resisting the urge to claw at his own neck and chest as his pulse quickens and his heart beats harder against his ribs, as the insistent buzz under his skin grows even more insistent, like it’s trying to seek his attention over the throb of his migraine, over the ever-growing pain in his knee and his trembling hands and his dry throat and chapped lips and the keen desire to have you by his side.

Jason isn’t even exaggerating when he says it feels like it’s been years when he finally reaches the bed, practically falling down onto it. With shaky hands, he brings the mug to his mouth, breathing in the subtle sweetness through his nose before taking a sip of the tea, regretting it immediately when it feels as though molten lava is being poured down his throat, clogging it up to the point that Jason’s nose burns when he tries to force down the urge to choke.

Instead of being stupid and trying to drink any more of it, Jason decides to set the mug down on the bedside table so he can wait for it to cool down, his hand jerking when he sees something other than tea in it. Jason stares helplessly, frozen in place as liquid spills over the rim of the mug and trickles down its side, leaving a faint stain on it, the colour reminiscent of dried blood. He blinks when his eyes start to water, and the tea is its usual colour again, a rich, golden caramel.

Jason stares for a little while longer and then decides to get back into bed so he can wait, for both his tea and you. Curling up into a ball is easier said than done, especially when he can feel every single hair on his body rubbing against the sheets when he pulls them close to his chest, then yanks the covers over his head like he’s trying to smother the pain as he squeezes his eyes shut.

His last thought before unknowingly succumbing to the darkness of sleep, selfish as it might be, is that though he hates being so reliant upon you, though it makes him feel weak and not so different from a leech, asking for everything from you and giving nothing in return, he wants to hear your voice telling him that he will get through this, and that you’ll be with him every step of the way.

***

Jason awakes from his restless slumber to the sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door, even though he remembers leaving it open. He knows it’s you though, because you’re the only one who ever bothers knocking anymore, even if the door is open, in an attempt to give him the space he sometimes needs. He tries his best to focus through the pain and realises that you’re knocking in a pattern, the same pattern you established with each other a while ago to ask if he was okay.

Jason nearly bites through his lip to stop himself from crying out as he reaches an arm out from under the covers to knock on the wood of the bedside table thrice, the nauseatingly coppery taste of blood lingering on his tongue. He wants you to tell him everything is going to be okay, even though he knows it isn’t going to be that way for a while, if only to delude himself into thinking so.

“Jay? Are you having a day?” You call out softly, and the ringing in his ears doesn’t stop him from hearing you shuffle your feet. Jason ignores the sound of his teeth grinding together as he summons the energy to peek out at you, squinting at how you’re stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob with both feet firmly outside of the room. Somewhere deep inside him, past all the parts that scream with pain and hurt and anger, it warms him to see that you’ll still respect his boundaries.

He nods at you, regretting it when his migraine comes back with a vengeance. It feels like someone’s hammering at the inside of his head, trying to break out of it. “You okay with touching?” You whisper, finally stepping into the room.

He isn’t sure. Touching his thumb to his chin makes his skin burst into a flurry of sensation, and Jason only refrains from scratching at his face because he knows that you know he wants to do it, going by the stern look on your face. “Can try, but… not skin,” he rasps out, wincing at the way his voice sounds. It’s hoarse and raspy, like he’s been screaming for hours. He could’ve been, in his sleep.

You come closer, casually tugging a pair of gloves out of your pocket and sliding them on. Other than the fact that they’re very soft, the gloves aren’t anything special. When you first found out about the pain, it had been Jason wearing them so he wouldn’t scratch himself, but both of you quickly found out that the material was far too itchy against his sensitive skin, and now it’s you who wears them so that you can help him without accidentally touching his skin and sending him into a frenzy.

Jason watches you as you step in front of the bedside table and curl your hand around a mug that he hadn’t noticed until then. “Jasmine tea?” You ask him, and Jason holds his shaking hands out to take it, but you move it away and put the mug back down, shaking your head. “It’s gone cold. You must have made it before you went to sleep.”

“I—don’t remember,” Jason murmurs, suddenly feeling very lost. He thought you had made it for him. Your mouth twitches into a small frown as you study his face, and your hand rises like you’re about to touch him, faltering midway before falling back down to your side.

“I’m going to get you some water,” you say, waiting for Jason’s nod before leaving to do just that, and Jason knows you’re coming right back, but he somehow misses you even more now than he did when you were at work. His shoulders are tense until you return to his side with a small glass, half-full of water.

“Do you want me to hold it for you—”

“Can do it myself,” Jason interrupts you, insistent on doing at least this without having to be so dependent on you. But once the glass is in his hands, water keeps sloshing over the sides, his teeth clacking into it because of how much his hands are shaking. Your gloved hands come up to support his, holding the glass steady, and he does his best to shoot you a thankful look as he takes a careful sip. He’s sure it’s lukewarm, but it feels like shards of ice scraping against his throat, almost making Jason choke.

Once the glass is empty, you set it down with a clink and crouch down next to the bed, facing him. “Have you eaten?” You ask, and Jason just about manages to shake his head, feeling sick. Your frown deepens momentarily before smoothing out entirely as you stand up again, taking a few steps back so that you’re not looming over him.

His skin is itchy. He feels dirty. Jason doesn’t realise that he’s scratching until you say his name sternly, startling him when you place a gentle hand on top of his. Your eyes scan over his face, and you must see something on it because you straighten up, a somewhat determined look in your eyes as you slowly peel the covers off him, baring Jason’s body to the cold darkness of the bedroom.

“Bath time,” you tell him, a small smile on your face. Jason shivers violently.

“Dirty? Am I dirty?” He asks, vaguely aware of the fact that he’s slurring his words, focussing more on how hot his face feels. Your smile wavers and it feels like his blood is boiling inside him as you shake your head, muttering something to yourself about him getting worse.

“But—”

Jason looks down at his hands, which only shake even more when he sees crimson pooling in the crooks between his fingers, staining his cuticles red and drying into the lines of his cracked palms. Red drips from his fingertips, staining the sheets beneath him. He doesn’t want to touch you, to dirty you with his red hands.

“They’re dirty,” Jason says, showing you his hands, and you shake your head again.

“You’re not dirty,” you say out loud this time, looking Jason in the eye. “You’re having a bath because it’ll help with the pain,” you explain to him like he’s a child, but Jason can’t find it in himself to get annoyed. He shivers again, but this time it’s because of the sudden cold he feels, because of the goosebumps rising along the surface of his bare arms as the buzz under his skin roars for his attention.

“I’m not?” Jason asks, still hesitant, and you repeat yourself as your eyes flicker over his face, telling him that he isn’t dirty.

“Come on,” you gently coax him until Jason eventually pulls himself out of the safety of the bed, a whimper escaping from between his clenched teeth when his feet touch the floor and pain shoots through his body. Your eyes are glued to him, concern clearly written all over your face as Jason battles his way to the bathroom and then starts to undress as you fill the bathtub, resisting the urge to scratch as the fabric of his clothes drags uncomfortably over his skin.

He studies his trembling hands as you pour some odd-looking powder into the water, dipping your hand in and swirling it all together until you’re left with a slimy mixture. You turn to him with an expectant look on your face like you’re waiting for him to do something, and then it clicks, and Jason’s nose wrinkles as he presses his lips together in a thin line.

“Sweetheart, you need to actually get in for it to have any effect,” you remind him, a teasing undertone to your voice. Jason pulls a face and steps up to the tub, wincing as the muscles in his legs sprain when he tries to swing his leg over the edge to do as he’s been told. But you come up next to him, holding one of his hands as lightly as you can to support him as he manages to climb into the tub, slowly sinking down until he’s sat down and almost fully submerged.

For a moment, it’s almost too overwhelming for him, and then the continuous sensations of hot and cold and pain and numbness, of all too much and nowhere near enough, they all slowly ease. Jason sinks a little lower into the water, hands shooting out of the water to grip onto the sides of the bathtub so he can ground himself as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, slowly breathing out through his nose.

Jason isn’t sure if he’s relieved or terrified by how easy it was to get his body to just shut up, but doesn’t ponder on it, revelling instead at how he can now simply feel without hurting so much.

He must zone out for quite some time though because he ends up tuning back in to the sound of your voice, smooth and familiar as you tell him about your day at work. You aren’t holding his hand anymore, but are still sat on the rug next to the bathtub, watching him with sharp eyes.

Once again, Jason is reminded of the fact that you’re too good for him, too good for someone with blood on his hands and vengeance on his mind, for someone who is capable of feeling nothing but anger in his heart. Once again, he wonders why you choose to stay, why you keep choosing him even though everyone else in his life does the opposite.

There’s an odd look on your face when Jason turns to look at you. You don’t say anything, not pushing him, but wait for him to speak in his own time. He’s fiercely reminded of how much he loves you and swallows down the lump in his throat which threatens to choke him.

“They’re red,” he finally croaks out, and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. “My hands are red, and they’re always gonna be red with people’s fucking blood, because that’s all I’m good at. That’s all I can do.”

“Jay—” you start, frowning, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head which makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

His bloody hands shake. “I’m never going to be clean,” Jason whispers, but even that is too loud for his overly sensitive ears. “When people look at Red Hood, at me, that’s all they are ever going to see. Blood on my hands.”

“Jason, baby,” you murmur, and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice so soft before. He turns his head to look down when your gloved fingers graze the tips of his, even though it makes him feel like his brain is pounding violently against the inside of his skull.

You’re asking if you can hold his hand, and Jason takes in a deep breath as he slowly uncurls his fingers from the death grip they previously had around the edge of the bathtub, then flips his hand over so his palm is facing upwards.

You don’t cover it with your own like he’s expecting, but manage to slide yours underneath Jason’s so that you’re cradling his hand. He has to fight hard against the instinct to snatch it back.

“You wanna know what I see?” You ask as your eyes fall to his hand, but it isn’t really a question, and if it is, it’s clearly rhetorical. Your gloved fingertip traces over the lines in his palm, and it doesn’t hurt as much as Jason had thought it would. Instead of thousands of tiny needles piercing through the surface of his skin, it just feels like sharp little pinpricks of sensation.

He looks up at you, and you look right back at him with soft eyes and a softer smile. Jason’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat in the same way it always does when you smile at him. “I see strength, and I see kindness, and I see good.”

Your eyes lower to look at his hand again. “I see scars and callouses and bruised knuckles, and fingers that haven’t healed right after being broken. I see the hands of a man who has worked hard every single day of his life, who doesn’t stop working even though it hurts sometimes, because he’s just like that.”

Your eyes meet, and Jason has to take in deep breaths after seeing the fierce look in your eyes, even though his chest is painfully tight. “I see hands that disarm bombs and shoot guns and break assholes’ noses. Hands that help and protect and love, so, so much.”

Jason exhales shakily through his nose, eyes stinging. He doesn’t deserve this, he knows that. He’s known that he doesn’t deserve you since the moment he met you, since the first time he dared to utter your name with his unworthy tongue, to touch you with his undeserving hands.

But you make him sound like this wonderful person, somebody who actually deserves to have you and love you, and Jason doesn’t know how you can see him like that. He’s killed and tortured and hurt people, both physically and emotionally, he’s not good at all, but he couldn’t bear to lose you if you ever came to the realisation that you’ve been wrong about him all along.

Loving you is the best thing he’s ever done, the greatest choice he’s ever made, and the closest he can get to being good is being good to you. If that’s taken away from him, he’s doomed to an eternity of making the wrong choices.

“When I look at you, I see someone who is brave and gentle and strong. So strong,” you emphasise with the gentlest squeeze to his hand, almost like you think if you put too much pressure on it, his bones will cave in and shatter beneath your touch into dozens of tiny pieces, just like Jason’s heart does whenever you say things like this to him, like you actually mean it.

“I see a man who has been hurt by the world around him so many times, but he’s come out fighting every time.” Jason flinches at that, turning away so he can watch the condensation slowly forming on the tap, a single water droplet threatening to spill from it.

“Jay,” you whisper shakily, and he can hear the swell of emotion in your voice. But Jason knows that you’re not asking him to turn back and face you again, though he feels like he should so he can lean in and kiss any revealing traces of wetness off your face, even if it makes his lips feel like they’re being seared right off his face as he touches them to your soft skin.

“I wish you could see what I do when I look at you,” you admit, eyes no longer burning into the side of his face as you steady your voice again, sounding like you’re determined to prove it to him, that he’s worthy of your love and time.

“You deserve every good thing in this cursed world that we live in, and I wish I could give you that, but I can’t,” you say, voice cracking halfway through your sentence, and you sound truly heartbroken about it, about the fact that—that Jason deserves more, and he’s not getting it.

The water droplet leaks from the tap and lands on the bottom of the tub with a faint splat. Jason doesn’t hear it because he’s too busy staring at your glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill over the delicate tips of your eyelashes and down your face.

You blink and a tear runs down your cheek, just one, leaving a faint streak on your face as you breathe in deeply through your nose, trying to pull yourself together before you speak again. “All I can give you is my love and my time, and hope that that’s enough for you.”

You look back down at his hand cradled in yours again and there’s a faint smile on your face, like you know something he doesn’t. “These hands which you think are red? The same hands which you think will only ever ruin everything they touch? They’ve never hurt me.”

“These hands right here?” You say, shaking his ever so slightly, but not so much that it hurts. “They hold me when I’m happy and when I’m sad, when I’m angry and when I need to feel safe.” Your eyes meet his again, bright with warmth and determination. “My heart is in these hands, Jason, and you’ve never done it wrong. Ever.” Jason briefly considers arguing with you but he really doesn’t have the energy to—this bath is making him strangely sleepy.

But you must see the intent in his eyes because you shake your head and continue, just as stubborn as he is. That isn’t a bad thing, not at all. It’s why you work so well together.

“When I got into a relationship with you, I trusted you to take care of my heart, and that’s exactly what you’ve done,” you explain. “So all I’m asking is that you trust me to take care of you, because I know you deserve it, whether you agree with me or not.”

Jason stares at you and you stare right back, your smile growing ever wider as Jason’s eyes dart away and his cheeks warm slightly. He loves you so much.

“I think you ought to know,” Jason starts, meeting your eyes as water trails slowly down the back of his neck, making him want to claw at his skin, to press his nails into it and drag them along the surface until it’s raw and itchy and as red as his bleeding heart. “If it weren’t for the fact that the thought of touching someone’s skin makes me want to peel the fucking flesh right off my bones, I’d be kissing the shit out of you right now.”

Your wet eyes go soft again, as does your trembling smile. “I appreciate the sentiment,” you laugh, undeniably fond, and even after all this time, it makes Jason want to squirm a little. He refrains, but just barely.

You stare at each other for a little while longer until you speak up again, asking if you can wash his hair. It’s not that he needs to have his hair washed, but he enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair, adores the sound of your voice as you tell him a story or sing to him to replace the silence or distract him from the thoughts racing around his mind.

So naturally, he agrees, and soon enough, he’s facing the wall with you balanced on the edge of the bathtub, warning him before you scoop up a handful of clean water and pour it over his hair. You start to hum a simple song, briefly pausing to tell that you’re going to shampoo his hair before continuing.

He tenses up, trying to prepare himself for the feeling of being overstimulated when your hands land in his hair, but warmth tingles through him instead in the same way that it does whenever you touch him with no plans other than to love him, and really, Jason was a fool to expect anything else, seeing as you’ve only ever touched him with the best intentions in mind.

“I love you,” Jason murmurs quietly, and you don’t tease him by telling him you know that like you sometimes do. Like Jason himself did when he finally became comfortable with the fact that he loves you and you love him too.

In fact, you don’t say anything at all, still humming that same song as you gently massage your fingers through his thick hair, paying particular attention to his white streak. It occurs to Jason that maybe you didn’t hear him.

Or maybe you just somehow know like you always do that this was something he needed to say, that it was something he needed to learn for himself without finding out that you knew how he felt before he did, something that he needed to come to terms with so he could finally put a name to the way you make his heart try to punch out of his rib cage and right into your hands whenever you smile at him or say his name or praise him, or kiss his tears away and take him into your arms after he’s had a nightmare without a word of complaint.

“I love you,” he repeats anyway, hoping for you to understand, and you try your best, leaning in to press your mouth to the wet skin on the back of his neck, mouthing words against it that Jason can’t quite make out, but he’s pretty sure he can have a good guess. It makes him shiver again, but in a good way this time.

“I love you,” he says a third time, and now you get it. Now you hear what he’s really saying.

I love you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for always choosing me. Thank you for helping me through this.

Your mouth curls into a smile against his skin. “I love you too, Jason,” you whisper, voice tender. And Jason hears what you’re saying too.

I love you. Thank you for letting me.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #sfw #my fic

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tickly-trashcan · 3 years

Text

Pranking a Prankster {Shinso and Ojiro}

A/N: ough i feel like they ended up a bit ooc in this one, sorry. I had a fun time getting to write for shinso though! and i dont think i’ve written for ojiro before, that was really fun! I hope you enjoy this one~

Summary: After a week of being pranked, Shinso decides to try and prank Ojiro. When he succeeds, how will Ojiro react?

Word Count: 1.2k (under the cut)

It had taken almost a week of careful planning, but it was finally done. Shinso had been cooking up a prank for his good friend, Ojiro, for a while now. He had been pranking the purple-haired boy almost daily a week prior, and Shinso had sworn revenge. He had to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, and that had just happened to come by today.

Ojiro was in charge of getting groceries for the dorm, and Midoriya had invited Shinso over to hang out, so he had the perfect chance to execute his plan. He excused himself from Midoriya’s room, saying he needed to use the restroom. He walked into the lobby of the dorm, setting up his prank.

He put a bucket of water over the dorm door, tipping the door open slightly and he set up a fan and a pile of flour not too far away from it. He glanced through one of the windows and saw Ojiro heading his way, and was more than ready to finally get back at him.

He ducked behind the couch, right by where he had the button to turn on the fan, and waited for Ojiro to walk in. He did, tipping over the water bucket as it dunked him in the cold water, making him screech in surprise. Shinsou quickly clicked the button before Ojiro could move out of the way, and he was dusted with flour immediately.

Ojiro spit the flour out of his mouth, dropping the groceries he had in hand as he heard loud laughter from behind the couch, a laugh he could recognize from anywhere.

“You!” He exclaimed, running over and pointing at the hysterical boy.

“Bwahaha! You should see the look on your face, oh my God!” Shinso wailed, clutching his stomach for dear life as he shook with laughter, Ojiro standing next to him, very much not laughing.

Ojiro tried to wipe the flour from his face, but it stuck like glue because of the water, Shinso doubling over in laughter as Ojiro struggled to scrub off the flour and water. Ojiro glared at Shinso, who continued to cackle madly, his laughter dying down and immediately coming back tenfold as he took another look at Ojiro.

Ojiro seethed as he stared at Shinso, an idea of revenge popping into his head. He needed something quick, something immediate, to show Shinso just how unfunny his prank was compared to Ojiro’s from the week before, which had been innocent pranks such as opening a can full of worms.

A lightbulb finally went off in Ojiro’s head and he sent a glare at Shinso, taking a few steps closer as he raised his hands.

“You think that was funny? I’ll give you something to laugh about,” He threatened, and, still wheezing, Shinso sat up, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked at Ojiro.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?” Shinso quipped, quickly widening his eyes as he saw Ojiro wiggle his fingers, realizing what he was planning.

“I’ll give you five seconds to escape,” he said, and Shinso wasted no time in bolting off, Ojiro hot on his tail. Shinso ran through the dorms, almost knocking over Midoriya who had come to check on him.

“Whoa! Shinso? Wait, why’s Ojiro covered in flour?”

Shinso had no time to explain, only time to run. He looked behind to see Ojiro right behind him, and as he looked back Shinso somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He wailed as he fell to the ground, about to jump back up before Ojiro pounced on him, immediately digging his fingers into Shinso’s hips, making him screech.

“NOHOhohoho! That wahahahasn’t f-five seheheheconds!” Shinso complained, and though he was right, it didn’t make any difference given the situation he was in.

Ojiro kneaded his hips, digging his thumb into the bone as Shinso laughed hysterically, shoving at Ojiro’s shoulders as he threw his head back, kicking his legs behind Ojiro as he attacked Shinso with ease.

“What’s happening?!” Midoriya suddenly said, popping out from the corner to see Ojiro already reducing Shinso to a giggly, red mess with just a few squeezes on his hips.

“Oh, just a bit of… revenge. Nothing too serious, don’t worry Midoriya!” Ojiro said quickly, not taking his eyes off of Shinso as he scribbled up his ribs, making him shriek before dissolving into uncharacteristically high giggles.

Midoriya nodded slowly and backed off, Shinso begging for help from him as he watched his only chance of getting away from this ticklish torture slip through his fingers.

“STAhahahahap! Pleheheheaseee!”

“This is what you get for pranking me, Shinso,” Ojiro said simply, continuing to dig his fingers into Shinso’s ribs, which was easily one of his worst spots. He shook his head around, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he cackled frantically, squeaking and squawking everytime Ojiro changed it up by switching spots or tactics.

“Is this a giggle button?” Ojiro had teased when he started poking right below Shinso’s navel, making him squeak with every touch as he shook his head.

“Dohohohohon’t!” He whined, and Ojiro had only chuckled at his poor friends mirth.

Eventually, Ojiro slowed his fingers, and Shinso thought he was done. He continued to giggle as he caught his breath, barely registering as Ojiro grabbed his wrists and held them above his head. He struggled weakly, begging for mercy as Ojiro merely clicked his tongue.

“I need to show you what happens when you prank a prankster.”

And with that, he lifted Shinso’s shirt with his free hand, exposing his tummy as his fluffy tail end plopped right in the middle of it. Shinso’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t make quick enough pleas as Ojiro wiggled his tail around his bare tummy, the soft, feather-like sensations driving Shinso completely up the wall.

He wailed, laughter bubbling out of his throat as hysteria took over, his frantic cackles probably echoing throughout the whole dorm, much to his embarrassment. Shinso snorted as his tail brushed over his lower ribs, making Ojiro bark out a sudden laugh.

“Did you just snort?” He exclaimed, and Shinso shook his head, whining.

“I did nohohohohot!”

“Oh, I think you did. Let’s hear it again,” He teased, dragging his tail slowly across Shinso’s lower ribs again, making him snort once more as he kicked his legs, squirming from side to side in an attempt to get away from Ojiro’s ticklish tail.

At some point, Ojiro had decided Shinso had had enough, given by his red face and the tears that were trailing down his cheeks. Shinso practically gasped for air when Ojiro pulled away, immediately curling up and rubbing his tummy and ribs, trying to rid himself of the ghostly tickles that still lingered.

“Did I go too far?” Ojiro asked, slightly worried that he might’ve upset his friend. Shinso only grinned, shaking his head as he sat up, nudging Ojiro with his elbow.

“Nah, but I hope you know I’m gonna get you back for that,” Shinso said confidently, and Ojiro smirked.

“Oh yeah? How-”

Ojiro’s eyes suddenly went blank as Shinso grinned.

“Lay down and put your arms up,” He commanded, and Ojiro did so, completely taken over by Shinso’s brainwashing Quirk.

Ojiro was soon the one in hysterics as he dug under his arms. Revenge seemed to be a popular theme with those friends today, and it likely would be for a while.

#kwaiibb #bnha #shinso #ojiro #tickle fic #i didnt really know how to end it lol SORRY

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chaoticdean · 3 years

Photo

(click on the banner for HQ, Tumblr somehow keeps fucking it up)

31 days and close to 39k words written later, here’s my Suptober20 master post! I can hardly believe that I managed to write everyday for a month, and I once again want to thank all of you for tagging along and being the nicest cheerleaders in the whole damn world. 💜

A special thank you to @winchester-reload for hosting this massive challenge and being the nicest gal around ✨

LINK TO THE SERIE ON AO3 | LINK TO MY TUMBLR TAGGED POSTS

(individual posts under the cut because this is a very long fucking post)

#1 — On the road again

The thrilling quest of gouda cheese — wc ~ 900 — Castiel is in charge of grocery shopping today, which could be a great thing if Dean could stop making him run back to the store multiple time. When his boyfriend decides they’re suddenly in urgent need of a special cheese, Castiel in turn decides he’s had enough.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#2 — Earth

A plastic and cardboard affair — wc ~ 1.2k — In which Castiel suddenly becomes hyperaware of the looming environmental catastrophe ahead and decides to start changing things in the bunker, and Dean... Well, Dean is sleepy, AND HE JUST WANTS TO CUDDLE.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#3 — Demonic

Demonic skills — wc ~ 1.4k — Before Cas, Dean could always count on his abilities in bed to get him out of conversations he didn’t want to have. Now, though, not so much. (also known as “post-coital pillow talk with Cas”).

AO3 | Tumblr post

#4 — Branded

Etched into my bones — wc ~ 500 — Against all the odds, Dean is the one who suggests it. He claims it’s just a mean to an end, but Cas knows better. After all, he’s the one who gets to witness the man behind the hard shell he shows to the world every single day, and he’s grown to love the soft side of Dean Winchester.

(Darkest Roads!verse)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#5 — Daydream

Dr. McHandsy and the curious case of the white lab coat — wc ~ 1.5k — They’re on a case and undercover, and that’s reason #1 why Dean shouldn’t be sitting here drooling over his partner. But really, who thought putting Castiel in a doctor outfit would be a brilliant idea?!

He’s gonna kill Sam.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#6 — Mask

A study in scotch and pampering — wc ~ 1.3k — If anyone had told Dean Winchester years from now that he’d be content letting his husband paint his face with foreign matter (not that kind of foreign matter, you kinky bastards) that smells like coconut and feels like whipped cream, he would’ve had the biggest laugh out of it. Nowadays, though, if that’s what it takes to get Cas to talk, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#7 — Domestic

The shirt in the dispute (and other laundry feuds) — wc ~ 2.1k — It all starts off with a sordid affair of mixed laundry, and somehow it’s World War III in the Men of Letter’s bunker (or the one where Castiel messes a batch of laundry up, and Dean’s Led Zeppelin shirt bites the dust)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#8 — Heartless

Ohio and the open secret — wc ~ 1.5k — Dean desperately tried to get Sam to pass on this case, hoping to finally get some alone time with his boyfriend for the first time in a while, but his giant moose of a brother decided to tag along anyway. Now they’re stuck in the same bedroom in Ohio, and Castiel is about to lose it, so Dean takes the matter into his own hands.

(it doesn’t go as planned)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#9 — Electric

Ocean waves — wc ~ 1.2k — It’s been 5 years now, and somehow they figured out their shit. A house on a the shore, a ring on their fingers, and despite everything Dean still wakes up to find Cas wrapped up in a panic attack on random nights, doubts and anxiety eating him alive. But they aren’t alone in the panic anymore.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#10 — Sweet Rides

Home is wherever I’m with you — wc ~ 600 — Until a few years ago, Dean didn’t have any home. He grew up in shitty motel rooms and inside the Impala, on the road and in-between schools. As he finally allow himself to fall into Castiel’s arms, he reflects on all the places he can call home, now.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#11 — Rock & Roll

Sharp Edges — wc ~ 1.6k — Castiel told him he loved him right before getting swallowed up by the Empty. Sam asked him to talk to someone, anyone really,, but words won’t come out, and how is he supposed to tell anyone how it feels to lose everything? So he writes. Letters on napkins, motel notepads, paperback books. He writes as he goes through every steps of grief, until finally there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#12 — Rewind

Leading me, going home — wc ~ 900 — Dean and Castiel reflects on their past and what they would say to their past self if they had the opportunity to rewind. (also known as “Castiel uses too many Harry Potter quotes, which gets Dean to prevent him from ever binging the movies again”)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#13 — Ladies

The promise in the cocktails — wc ~ 800 — When a joke involving colorful cocktails designed to put his brother into misery turns into a promise for more steamy nights with Cas, Dean thinks he might have won the lottery (and God bless strawberry daiquiris).

AO3 | Tumblr post

#14 — Fun & Games

A fever and the whipped boyfriend — wc ~ 1k — Being in love with a being as old as the Earth is all fun and games until said ex-angel gets sick for the first time of his entire (overwhelmingly long) life and turns into an actual, honest to god, gigantic baby. Lucky for Cas, Dean turns into perfect boyfriend mode.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#15 — Third Eye

The blonde-haired witch and the little push — wc ~ 2.8k — It’s not the first time Dean’s ever had to listen to someone referring to Castiel as “his boyfriend”, but it sure as hell is the first time he has to sit through a diner listening to a witch referring to Cas as his husband without even batting an eyelash, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Which would be fine if it didn’t cause actual shivers to run down his spine.

(or the one where a friendly witch gives Dean the little push he needs)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#16 — Switch it up!

The spices in the suit — wc ~ 1.7k — Dean doesn’t know when he started taking advices from Sam when it comes to his love life, but after tonight he thinks he might be more mindful of Sam’s wiseness in the future. Especially if it gets him all the way to the backseat of the Impala with a former angel in his lap.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#17 — Autumn invading

Storms never come to stay — wc ~ 1.6k — Dean finds Cas in the wood behind their house, hours after they had a fight. They’ve been together for a long time now, yet fears still run deep.

(Darkest Roads!verse)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#18 — Dark & Stormy Night

The wayward gang and the questionable cocktail — wc ~ 1.9k — Castiel comes back to the bunker after a day on the road to find the wayward gang scattered over the map table for what appears to be a cocktail night. Sam wanted piña colada, but Dean Winchester bartender extraordinaire decided to go for something darker and stormier...

AO3 | Tumblr post

#19 — Pour one out

As days fade (and night grows) — wc ~ 1.9k — Castiel wakes up alone and cold, and decides that he’s had enough of Dean shutting him out. They’ve lost Jack, but it doesn’t mean they have to lose themselves too.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#20 — Home

The fire in my bones — wc ~ 1.1k — It’s not a secret that Dean Winchester isn’t particularly good with words, but when he fucks up and unintentionally hurts Cas, he knows he has to do better.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#21 — Fear

If I let you go, would you hold on? — wc ~ 1.6k — Castiel gets hurt on a hunt trying to protect Dean, and Dean is tired of having to wake up everyday not knowing if they’ll both be alive the next morning or if one of them is going to sacrifice himself to save the other. Finally, he makes a choice that will set he course of their future together.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#22 — “I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so...”

Just a little rain — wc ~ 800 — Leave it to Led Zeppelin and Dean’s slow dancing skills to soothe the pain of letting your kid leave to tour the world.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#23 — Favorite

You feel like the sun on my face — wc ~ 700 — Dean awakes to Castiel sliding into bed after he just came back from a hunt, and somehow it’s kind of the best feeling in the world.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#24 — Family business

Wherever we are is where I wanna be — wc ~ 1.4k — It took them a few months, but once Dean and Castiel decide to move across the country and into a home of their own, everything falls into places.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#25 — Villain

The blue tie in the bathtub — wc ~ 1.2k — Dean has been a pain in the ass all day, so Castiel decides to drag him into the bathtub and tie his hand up the shower rail before teaching him a lesson.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#26 — Walk of shame

And I would walk 500 miles — wc ~ 1.3k — The one where they think they’re being subtle, but they’re actually being really loud (and Sam happens to have functioning eyes, too.)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#27 — Banquet

Drunk on love — wc ~ 800 — Dean’s analogies are usually spot on, but maybe he’s had a bit too much whisky to be clever tonight (or maybe the fact that Castiel’s mouth is currently glued to his throat is preventing him to think clearly, who knows?)

AO3 | Tumblr post

#28 — Hellscape

Adventures in Christmas shopping — wc ~ 500 — Castiel wants to go Christmas shopping, and Dean being a very whipped thoughtful boyfriend decides to tag along. It doesn’t go well.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#29 — Fragile

Anytime you reach for me — wc ~ 700 — A look into what sex used to mean to Dean before Cas, and how his world has been turned upside down ever since he got in bed with a former angel of the lord.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#30 — Dress-up

Entertainment in soapy water — wc ~ 800 — Castiel just went down the garage to see what Dean is up to, but when he catches a flash of red right above the waistband of Dean’s shorts, it seems like his boyfriend might have dressed up just for him to see.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#31 — Carry On

Scar tissue — wc ~ 1.6k — There are arguably a few things that Dean dislikes more than anything else in the world, but nothing compares to what it feels like to wake up in an empty bed in the middle of the night, and the insane bolt of fear laced with anxiety than runs through Dean’s chest when he realizes he’s got no idea where Castiel is.

AO3 | Tumblr post

#suptober20 #masterpost #jus writes #I've just spent the entire afternoon preparing this #so help me god if the links don't work I might have to kill someone @ tumblr #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #destiel #deancas #writer of destiel #dean/cas

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ateezbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Ateez Mafia Reaction: To their S/O being bratty

PARK SEONGHWA

Even though you were quite the obedient girlfriend and Seonghwa was in charge usually. Although you never questioned it but not every time you agreed to his actions. The first time you decided to stomp your foot and throw a tantrum like a child was when your boyfriend refused to take you out for shopping. Even though you had been looking forward to spending the day with him and you had made it known to him as to how excited you were, you were disappointed that Seonghwa hadn’t warned you beforehand about the change of plans. And the in the moment your lips formed a pout in the most childish way, crossing your arms as you whined at him.

But it was also first time you saw your boyfriend’s personality switch outside the bedroom. He always acted like a gentleman towards you and treated you like a doll. Seonghwa’s face switched in a millisecond as he pulled you close, his grip was firm on your forearm.

“You really don’t want to play this game with me princess?”

You were surely intimidated by his gaze as your body turned hotter every minute. But you still turned your head away from his, only earning a dark chuckle from him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

KIM HONGJOONG

As much as you loved Hongjoong with all his flaws, one thing you hated with passion was how he always prioritized his work over you. And that was all you could think about in that very moment as you laid on your boyfriend’s bed, bored out of your mind while he was typing away on his laptop. You purposely sighed loudly just so you could get his attention but instead you hear his frustrated sigh which sparks a streak of annoyance within you.

Dramatically you took a pillow and threw at him causing him to pause his typing and turn around. The more he stared at you, you fought your instinct to cower away and crossed your arms as you glared back at him. But his change of expression baffled you.

You watched closely as he stood up and walked over to you while loosening his tie. His smirk made you weak in your bones but you stood your ground. In the blink of an eye he quickly pinned you to the bed. You mind blacked out as soon as his lips collide with yours. You were so far away that you didn’t realise that he had tied you hands to the bedpost. Hongjoong got off and took a seat next to you.

“If I have to stop, you won’t be able to able to walk for the next week.”

“Is that a promise ?”

“Bet.”

JEONG YUNHO

As you sat in an expensive restaurant with your boyfriend Yunho for your monthly date, you couldn’t help but gawk at him. He always looked mouth watering good in his fancy suits. Even though you had been giving him hints all through the night, he simply ignored them which made you slightly annoyed. You wanted nothing more than to just ride him into oblivion, but your boyfriend was persistent on going on this date. So you had decided to act up, something that Yunho enjoyed only in the bedroom walls. He wanted to keep his other side behind the closed doors only, but you desperately wanted him to snap. Initially you had been extra quiet but he was too occupied with the thought of the date to realise you scheming eyes. As the waiter brought out your food, you took a few bites and whined loudly at Yunho as to how much you disliked the food. He had stopped chewing his food and looked at you. But you didn’t let it deter you as you gave him puppy eyes.

“Don’t act like this doll. I know how much you love this restaurant.”

“But Yunho...”

Sadly, Yunho had caught onto you plan and he all but refused to give into you tonight. He knew what you wanted and he was definitely going to give it to you but not before he tamed your bratty attitude .

“You better fill that mouth with food before I give you something else to shut you up with.”

KANG YEOSANG

If there was one thing that Yeosang hated the most was if somebody disturbed him when he was doing a task. And that’s exactly what your inner brat was telling you to do. You especially loved when Yeosang put you into place. So you decided to walk into his office without knocking while wearing the shortest dress you could find. Even though he had told you not to walk around wearing that dress, you paid no mind to that. And Yeosang’s expression was worth the trouble.

“Behave.”

Yeosang got a grip and asked you politely to wait outside his office while he finished his meeting, and surprisingly you went along with it. But you should’ve known better, because as soon as the meeting ended and his men walked out accidentally giving you a look over, Yeosang’s demeanor shifted. But you refused to look him in the eyes and walked in nudging him a little too hard as you walked by. After all your plan had worked and Yeosang was exactly where you wanted him to be. But the more his eyes bore into you the more difficult it’d become to ignore him. As you turned around he was glaring at you.

“Where do you think you’re going about dressed like that ?”

“Haven’t you figured out already what happens to brats who don’t listen to simple rules?”

CHOI SAN

San loves playing game, especially whenever he would get a new game, he would devote his free time to play the game instead of spending it with you. That’s what he had been doing for the past few weeks and you’ve had enough. You wanted his attention and you would do anything to get it.

It was dark inside the house and all you could see was the dull light that emitted in the lounge room from the computer screen and the sound of rapid tapping of the keyboard and clicking of the computer mouse fueled your frustrations. As you walked towards him, you tapped his shoulder, but instead of turning around, he just raised his hand pointing one finger indicating for you to wait. You tapped his shoulder again only to receive a warning.

“If you interrupt me one more time, see what happens.”

And that’s exactly what you did , but unfortunately for you San paid you no intention. So you turned you attention the gaming console. You marched towards it and plugged it right off the socket. San sat emotionlessly, not even turning his head to look at you. his head not even turning to look at you.

“Come here.”

The look on his face made your heartbeat pick up pace. But you stood your ground, your eyebrows furrowed as you folded your arms dramatically with a triumphant look.

“You’re in trouble now.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. The look of triumph on your face vanished within no time and your throat became parched.

“You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you brat?”

“Don’t worry darling, Daddy is going to give it you so good that you’re going to be begging for me to stop.”

SONG MINGI

Mingi was diligent boyfriend. He did everything he could for you two to have a relationship. And without asking, everything was given to you on a silver platter. But lately Mingi has been paying more attention to his work than you. Although he’d said he’d make it up to you, it had been weeks. Just like today, he had to leave in the middle of the date because of some ‘work’. He had asked you to stay back to finish the food and came back in time to pick you up. But you were upset to the point that all your past frustration made your mood go even more downhill.

So here you were, sitting next to him with your arms crossed with an incoming headache. Mingi was too busy on the phone until he finally noticed that you hadn’t spoken even once since he came back nor did you look at him. He went to grab your hand but you shook him off instantly. You turned your head to look out of the car window waiting for his apology. But it never and instead the car started moving. So you turned your head to glare at him, not saying a word.

“Don’t give me that look.”

He suddenly placed a hand on you thigh as a warning, but you weren’t going to back down. Not today. You’ve had enough. You removed his hand from your thigh no matter how much you loved it.

“Don’t make me take you home and punish you, babygirl.”

You whined loudly unable to stop it as the smirk on Mingi’s face grew. He took a look at you and shook his head. All of a sudden, he moved in closer to your ear, his hand on your thigh now moving up to the hem of your dress.

“But you would like that, now wouldn’t you ?”

JUNG WOOYOUNG

Your relationship with Wooyoung was full of passion. Red hot passion. That’s how you made each other feel and it seemed that the fire wasn’t going to die down anytime soon. So you always liked to try him when you were in public. It’s so fun seeing him get all worked up over you. That’s why you decided to wear the shortest dress you could find for your date tonight. Wooyoung kept on turning his head to look at you. Gone were the nicknames as Wooyoung didn’t look amused at all by your antics. You kept on rolling your eyes at him and making sarcastic comments when he was talking to you.

Unfortunately Wooyoung wasn’t having it today, all he wanted was to have a sophisticated dinner with his girl but it seemed as if you had different plans tonight. Thus, it didn’t take much for Wooyoung to snap considering he always likes to tease you but today his vigilance ran short. You weren’t surprised when you felt his hand rest on top of your exposed thigh giving it a tight squeeze and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble when we get home.”

“You can’t tease me like that and expect not to get punished.”

CHOI JONGHO

Jongho was a sweetheart to you and everyone knew it. But sometimes you took advantage of it, to have your way in everything. But lately you had been getting on his nerves for no reason. Although Jongho tried his best not to snap at you, he was reaching his limit. You would create a scene every morning when he had to leave for work, even when he was working you would blast his phone with texts and calls and Jongho being the sweetheart he is would always answer. So when you started to talk back to him in front of everyone in the gang meeting, he would snap. Jongho would ignore you for the rest of the meeting.

Only inside the four walls of your home would he show his true emotions. As soon the door closed, he’d grab your chin in his hand and force you to look up at him. His piercing gaze held you captive, no matter how you act, his gaze always made you submit. Jongho maintained the eye contact as he backed up you against a wall. He’d ghost his lips over yours while not exactly kissing you. You knew he wasn’t a fan of attitude at all, so he’d made up his mind to discipline you because it seemed like you needed to be taught manners.

“Wanna run that mouth again babygirl ?”

“Because if you want to beg, you better start begging.”

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Five

ao3 - masterpost

hello, my dears. here's chapter five, without too much fanfare. enjoy<3

---

The morning of her first self-defense lesson with Cassian, Nesta awakes to a cool breeze blowing in the scent of roses from her open window.

"Good morning," Nesta says, smiling slightly. "I guess you liked my gift."

She had finished it yesterday, in the jewelry-making session. It had taken her the better part of the day. A sort of cover for the cracked, broken part of the walls the Illyrians had destroyed. Golden and gleaming and prettier than the beige paint around it, but complementing all the same.

And now the House, apparently, is showing her affection for it: a new rose bush outside of her room, fat flowers dangling down over the top of her window. A very pretty frame for her already spectacular view of the city.

The House gives her different clothes today, too. A fitted shirt, and a knee-length loose skirt, with leggings underneath. As close to pants as she'll wear. By Cassian's slight approving nod when she meets him after breakfast, he approves.

"We'll be starting on the roof," he says, in lieu of a greeting.

She nods once. She remembers hearing him, back in that awful first week here-goodness, but it's not yet been a full month since then, and it feels so long ago-hearing him up there, throwing knives around or whatever it was he did. She guesses she'll soon find out.

The crispness of the morning mountain air hits her in full force, but Cassian doesn't act like it fazes him at all. In fact, judging by the way his wings spread slightly wider, he likes it.

"All right," he says. "Let's begin."

The hour ticks by, slowing and speeding up depending on moments when Cassian touches her. There's none of his usual chatter or teasing; he's serious and unsmiling. The training ring is probably sacred to him.

Serious and unsmiling, but not discouraging. He's generous with his praise when she achieves his simple tasks-too generous, she thinks, but perhaps he has some ulterior motive.

Or perhaps, a small voice inside her head says, he's relieved you'll finally know how to defend yourself, and he means it.

It's not as daunting as it had seemed at first, this self defense. He's good for their agreement; this isn't training. He takes all her weaknesses and her proposed attacker's strengths into consideration and shows her how to maneuver past it all. How to cause an assailant-even one as big and strong as he is-to let her go when they grab her arms tightly in front, how to move her legs when she's caught in a chokehold, and how to break free when someone grabs her from behind.

"I guess no one will be able to pull onto your hair, though," he muses, more to himself than to her. "Keep your arms at your sides; you don't want them to get in the way of this one," he adds, mercifully changing the subject too quickly before he can notice her expression.

No one can pull on her hair now, that's the whole point. But they had, they had, rough enough that strands came out and she had no way to escape. What if she had known these tricks then? Would she have had a prayer? Would she still be human? Elain? And what of Father, would he still be alive? Or would it not have mattered; only delayed her certain torture and death, because she had been human, and they had been Fae, and in the end, that was all-

"Arms like this, Nesta," Cassian says, switching from mock-assailant to instructor as he gently tucks her arms against her sides, and drawing her out of her head to the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on hers, his body behind her. His wings block out the wind, and she can feel the warmth radiating from him to her core. "Because you don't want them to get in the way of when you break out...and why else?"

"So I don't use them to hurt myself," she says, repeating his words from earlier.

"Right...good. Let's do this one again. One last time."

She takes a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Yes." She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't need to. He doesn't let her feel trapped.

"All right, I'm grabbing you now-good!"

For she is ready for him, this time. He wraps his arms around her from behind, his arms trapping hers at her elbows, and she instantly draws them in like he instructed. Without waiting for his prompting, she gathers her strength and throws her head upwards and backwards, like he had shown her, and then leaps away as his arms fly open.

"Good, Nesta!" he says, eyes shining as she turns around. He isn't hurt; he keeps moving away for this one so she doesn't do any real damage. "You would've hit his neck there...normally, I'd say go for the chin, but neck's really good...at that speed, with that force, really good..." He grins broadly at her, his first smile of the morning, and after an hour of being in instructor-Cassian's presence, she blinks at the easy switch.

"You did really well," he says, after handing her a glass of water. "Did you...how was it for you?"

She shrugs slightly. "All right." It wasn't fun. But it was hardly suffering. And the movements, following Cassian's instructions...a good way to keep herself focused.

"Would you...do you want to continue?" His voice is casual, but from the careful way he does not meet her eyes, she can tell he is tense.

"Yes," she says, trying to keep her voice casual too.

He brightens, and something inside her dims automatically. His...elation, relief, whatever this spark is, at seeing her agree to do this...it feels, somehow, as though she is doing something wrong. She is cheating or lying. She does not deserve this, is not worthy of his joy. Of him.

"It's not healthy to do workouts every day," he says, "especially...when you're in recovery."

When you're weak, he means. When one is ill and emaciated-even if she is getting better, and trying, it's not going to be enough-never enough-

"So I think...Mondays and Tuesdays...and Thursdays and Fridays? If you'd like to do this long term, I mean."

Nesta blinks. "How long-term?"

He shrugs. "Till you want to stop, I guess."

She purses her lips slightly. "Don't you have...I mean, will you be able to do this four times a week, indefinitely? Don't you have..." An occupation, she wants to say. Running the strongest military on their island, maybe one of the strongest in the world. "You don't have the time," she decides on instead.

He does it again. His deep hazel eyes latch onto hers and don't let her go. She doesn't have a prayer of looking away until he lets her. There's not enough self-defense lessons in the world for her to be strong enough to fight this off.

"I always have time for you, Nesta."

She shivers, and it doesn't have anything to do with the crisp wind under the weak October sun.

He moves his head, and lets her go.

"So tomorrow, then," he says.

"Tomorrow," she echoes. She doesn't stay to watch him fly off.

---

Nesta had done incredibly well. Spectacularly. And she had looked even better.

He had stayed up half the night before, wondering if she was going to show up in pants. She hadn't, but the skirt she had worn had gone only to her knees. The shortest he'd seen her in by far. And her black top...like a second skin. A healthier skin, almost normal. Not translucent any longer. Covering a softer body. More curves, like she used to have. Bones not protruding so much. Golden hair shining in the dim light, coiled and braided like a princess', like a queen's. She even has it up when she goes to sleep, he'd learned during her first week here. Does she ever wear it down? Only to bathe, probably. And what does she look like then, with this slight new weight, this perfect skin, this beautiful hair reaching he doesn't even know how far down...He'd only allowed himself a few moments of ogling her before violently shoving out all thoughts anywhere near the realm of lust from his mind. The training ring was not for this.

Feyre and Elain are beside themselves with happiness, as he knew they would be, when he tells them how it went.

"She agreed to more lessons," Feyre says in wonderment.

"It can only be a good thing," Elain says, tugging on a stray lock of hair.

"Yes," Feyre agrees. "But...maybe, considering...you know. Your history." She shoots him an apologetic look. "Maybe it'd be best if..."

Cassian's heart rate picks up. "You think someone else should teach her?" No, his instincts tell him. She had asked him. She wants him to do it.

But he knows he'll give in. If her sisters think it would be better...because it's her that matters. Not what he wants. What matters is her getting better.

Oh, but he knows he can be the person to help her. Or one of the people, at least. If she just lets him.

Mercifully, Feyre says, "No, no, not that. Just...maybe you could do with a chaperone? Azriel or-well, no, not Rhys. But maybe it would be good for Az to drop by occasionally...what do you think?"

"That's not a bad idea," he admits. A buffer. He could do with one.

"So, what are you teaching her, exactly?" Elain asks.

"Just some self defense. Breaking away from an assailant, today." But maybe, in time, he can convince her to do more. More general exercise, maybe even some offensive techniques. "There was something at the House," he adds. "On the wall where the Illyrians attacked."

"What?"

"This gold...thing. Covering the damage the Illyrians did to it." He clenches his jaw at the memory.

"I thought the House was magic now," Elain says. "Couldn't it have fixed itself up."

"Nesta made it," he says. "She told it she was going to fix it, so..."

The wall had been as fine as any other in the House, in any one of Rhys' homes, before the attack. Painted well, a warm beige, and decorated with any number of ornate pictures and mirrors and shelves for vases and whatnot. But now, the wall was white and bare but for the swirling metal covering the cracks and craters.

Cassian understands. If Nesta had made something for him, he'd want it to be the only thing people saw when they looked at him.

"She made something?" Feyre asks, eyes widening slightly.

"She did say she had that jewelery thing...she said she liked it."

"I never thought of Nesta as an artist before," Feyre says, quieter. "She never had any patience for painting when I showed her."

"Well, I'm sure she doesn't think of herself as an artist...I got the impression she liked it as a way to calm herself down."

"Do you think? What does she need calming down from? Is she-is she angry, do you think?"

Feyre and Elain continue to discuss Nesta and guess at her thoughts and motives while Cassian sits and desperately wishes he could only ask her.

---

Thalia asks to see her as soon as she's available, so Nesta tells Gwyn she'll see her after lunch and heads down to her office.

"Good morning," Thalia says, smiling up at her from her couch.

Nesta sits opposite her. "Hello."

"You're looking refreshed."

"I started...some self-defense. Just a little. With, um, Cassian." Does she know Cassian, Nesta wonders. Probably. He's the kind of person everyone knows.

"Really?" Thalia says, sounding impressed. "How wonderful!"

Nesta shrugs a little.

"Well, I think that comes at a perfect time, actually."

Nesta's eyes shoot up. "Why?" she asks, wary.

"I think I've settled on an idea to help you tackle your goals. I wanted to know what you think."

"All right," Nesta says, after a beat. "What is it?"

Thalia tilts her head back slightly, chin set. Oh, this should be good. "What do you think about keeping a log and schedule of trying new things?"

She sucks in her bottom lip before saying, "Trying new things? How does that help me with my goals?" It seems like Thalia is trying to push her own agenda over actually helping Nesta achieve hers.

"It'll get you in the habit of doing things you aren't used to," Thalia says, patient. "It'll keep you focused on something. It might bring new joys or interests into your life, perhaps personally, or perhaps by bonding with others. And it'll greatly increase your confidence and self-esteem."

Nesta blinks. "That's not one of my goals."

"I know, dear. It's one of mine."

Nesta looks down. "It's..." She forces herself to say the words she would normally just drown in inside her own mind. "Just hard to remember sometimes."

"What's hard to remember?" Gentle, not prodding.

She swallows hard. It sounds so stupid inside her head. How will it sound out loud? "That I'm actually supposed to...get better. Sometimes it feels like that's the wrong thing to do." She bites her tongue-she hadn't meant for that part to come out.

But Thalia never acts like what she's saying is pathetic, even if it is.

"How does it feel wrong?"

Nesta sighs. Not out of irritation over the question, just because she isn't quite sure how to answer. "It's...I don't know. Sometimes one just knows a thing is wrong."

"Hm," Thalia says. Considering, thoughtful. "Well, at any rate, your self-defense lesson today can count as your new thing for the day."

"Well-wait, for the day? You want me to do one new thing per day?"

Thalia's lip quirk. "How often did you think I was asking you?"

"I don't know. A week, maybe."

"I don't think so. Once a day, please. Don't forget to track them all. Write them down. Run along, now, Nesta, and if you could take these books with you? Thank you."

Gwyn finds her putting Thalia's books back on the fifth level. "So, how did it go with Thalia? And with your training session with Lord Cassian?"

Lord Cassian. She'll never get used to that. "News travels fast, I see," she says primly.

"You know it does. How did it go?"

"It went...all right."

"Which one?" Gwyn takes a book from Nesta's hands and puts it on a shelf over her head.

"Both of them. Actually, I think the lesson with Cassian went better," she says in surprise, after reflecting. "And it wasn't training. It was just some self-defense."

"Same difference. What happened with Thalia?"

"She's making me try one new thing a day."

"One per day? Every day?" Gwyn shudders. "I can't believe you go along with everything she says. All her meetings and exercises and now this self-defense...You must be four times as brave as I am, at least."

Nesta winces.

"What are you going to do?" Gwyn continues, either not noticing Nesta's discomfort or respectfully ignoring it. "For your new things, I mean."

"I don't know," Nesta says, weighing two books, as if debating between her options for tomorrow and all the tomorrows after. "I guess...try every fruit I haven't?" Gwyn laughs. "I don't know what she expects me to do."

"I'm sure you'll think of things. You're...you'll do better than the rest of us. You do better than the rest of us. It's so obvious, how much you want to live." She says it confidently, assuredly, her teal eyes set.

Nesta bites her lip. "I did really want to live," she says quietly. That night in Hybern. She had fought with everything she had. The whole way to the Cauldron, and even after, inside it. She hadn't stopped. "I...can't..."

"I know," Gwyn says, voice soft as Nesta's. "You can't remember why. It's all right. You will. I can tell."

Nesta blinks rapidly. She's not about to cry. She's not. She just...she doesn't know what she is.

"I can't believe it's not even noon," she mumbles.

Gwyn chuckles. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your day's hardly going to be a quiet one. Calliope wants you all afternoon."

She likes Calliope, generally, so that's not so awful. "For what?"

Gwyn shrugs. "Sorting through her papers, probably. Maybe she wants you as an assistant."

If Nesta gets assigned to a High Priestess, than she doesn't have to do these menial tasks anymore. Of course, there's no promise that the priestess she'll be assisting won't have her own miserable things for her to do...Merrill, Gwyn's priestess, is a royal pain, Nesta knows...

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Gwyn says. "Wearing your dress backwards or eating starfruit."

"Ha," Nesta says flatly.

Gwyn laughs once more before going, unbound copper hair flowing behind her.

She's wrong, Nesta knows, about her being braver than anyone else. About her being brave at all. All she's doing now is what other people are telling her. Go see Calliope in her office, Nesta. Come sit with Thalia on the third level, Nesta. Tell Clotho if you liked Daphne's lecture, Nesta. Simple motions, simple movements. Nothing brave about it.

"Now again on the left, Nesta. Good. Good."

It's Thursday morning, and Cassian is the one ordering her about. Sometimes she thinks he sounds like any one of the priestess, with how he talks to her in these lessons, which makes her feel...she isn't sure. It's odd, certainly. Considering all the ways they used to talk to each other. Barbed insults, right in the House, to the other end of the spectrum. The words that cycle in her head some nights, the newest among them being I always have time for you, Nesta...and, of course, intermittent praises from when she does well.

"Excellent. Keep your torso just like that...now with your arms just as I-yes!"

There's really not any bravery required, Nesta decides. Not when the priestesses are all eager to do anything that encourages the girls to, well, do anything, and not when Cassian is...himself. Even now that Azriel, the member of her sister's circle Nesta is wont to consider her favorite if only because he never talks to her, has started showing up for a few minutes every session. Even he, with his face more closed off than Amren's (back when they were on speaking terms), and those dark shadows of his...even he does not discourage her.

Their hour ends, and he watches her drink two glasses of water-discreetly, drinking some himself, too-before turning to leave.

"Um," she says, voice slightly louder than it needs to be.

He pauses. Turns. Waits.

She can't look away again-his eyes-but she has to say something, doesn't she? What was it she was going to say?

"I seem to be doing well," she blurts out. Then flushes crimson.

He grins. "You're doing very well, Nesta."

She smooths her skirt, as if that'll somehow help her regain composure. "What I mean is," she says, voice hopefully not wobbly, "these...lessons...seem to be doing me good."

His grin gets smaller, but his eyes grow soft. "I...am very glad to hear that."

"I mean they help me feel...better. I feel better. Stronger. And I don't get so distracted all the time. And I...don't think about drinking so much." That's true, she realizes. In fact, she hasn't wanted a drink since...Monday? Sunday? She can't even be sure.

Cassian inhales sharply. "Good," he says, rather faint. "That's...that's so good, Nesta."

"So I was wondering if maybe you thought that...because I thought...well, I-I don't know, but maybe..." Stammering, tripping over her own words, it's just-

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

She nearly gasps, the words playing in her mind so clear in his eyes it's almost as though she can hear him saying them aloud.

"I thought maybe some other girls would like to join. If you don't mind. Having some more of us."

Cassian blinks. "I...I don't. I don't mind at all. I think that's a great idea, actually."

"Well, I also thought," Nesta starts, encouraged, "that since, you know, you've wanted that female Illyrian legion for so long-" he blinks again, evidently unaware that she knows that-"maybe you could also see if some Illyrian girls wanted to join. Just to see if they have a taste for...any of this."

Cassian's mouth falls open slightly and his hand goes to his forehead. "I...can't believe I never thought of this myself, actually," he admits. "Self-defense as a sort of gateway...that's actually really fucking brilliant, Nesta."

She huffs a sound of amusement at his swearing; it's been so long since she's heard any curse, as the priestesses are all so pious and proper. He starts at the sound.

"Well," she says, ducking her head to busy herself with her skirt so he doesn't see her color again. "I have to go bathe and..."

"Oh, yeah. All right. Well...so Monday? With some other girls?"

"If they want," Nesta says. "I don't know if anyone will want..."

"Well, you just let them know. Maybe ask Clotho..."

"I will. And...will you go to that camp? Windhaven?"

"Windhaven?" he asks.

"I met a shopkeeper..."

"Emerie?"

"Oh," she says. "You know her."

"She's the only female shopkeeper," he says. "We've met."

"I talked to her a little. I think she might be interested. I think she has some friends who might like it, too."

"Oh," he says, surprised. "I didn't know...I assumed-well, never mind. All right, Nesta. Goodbye, then. And great idea, really. And..." he trails off. She looks up to see him smiling. "You did really well. I mean it."

She nods, just once. But then she says, "Thank you."

She can't quite believe she said that. But judging by the way his grin widens enough to show all his teeth, it's something he's been waiting a while to hear.

#nessian #nesta archeron #nessian fic #once again i never have any idea what to tag this #anyway excited that this is getting more into it #the fic i mean #i'm really excited for the next chapter when we see the girls #can't wait for nesta to have friends omg

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fangirlshrewt97 · 3 years

Text

Underneath Your Clothes

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Joe x Nicky

Read on AO3

///

You're a song Written by the hands of God Don't get me wrong 'Cause this might sound to you a bit odd But you own the place Where all my thoughts go hiding And right under your clothes Is where I find them Underneath your clothes There's an endless story There's the man I chose There's my territory And all the things I deserve For being such a good girl honey

- “Underneath Your Clothes” by Shakira

Nicky hummed mindlessly to the Italian song that was floating in through the open window. The singer was barely sixteen, but his voice was reminiscent of the great crooners. He always left with a tidy haul at the end of the day whenever he stopped by their corner. Nicky made a mental note to give him one of his pastries if he caught him before he left for the day.

The timer went off as the kid finished off his song. Nicky removed the baking tray into the oven, closing the door behind him with his hip. He placed the tray on the counter before turning off the timer. He smirked at it, a novelty “Italian Chef” timer Nile had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago. That had been a fun one.

He transferred the baked goods into a couple of large boxes once they had cooled and set the tray in the sink to soak. Once that was done, he cleaned the rest of the kitchen, satisfied only when the counters gleamed and the rest of the dishes were either put away or drying on the rack. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he stepped away from the room. Rolling his neck, Nicky massaged one of his wrists, relieving the tension built up from a day spent rolling and preparing dough.

Glancing at the clock showed that it was 3 in the afternoon. Not bad for a day’s work. Checking the doors and windows were properly closed, Nicky made his way further into the house. Some of their down times were spent just catching their breath from a rough mission. Others, like this one, were to ground themselves back into the world, to remind themselves that their lives did not have to just be blood, vengeance, and seeking to bring justice to the evils of the world.

The breeze that drifted through the bedroom was tinged with the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean sun and the salty tinge of the sea. He leaned against the doorway, smiling softly at the sight that greeted him. Joe, sitting up with his back to the door, both hands in the air, fingers interwoven as he grunted from the stretching exercise. Once he finished, releasing a heavy breath, he placed his hands at the small of his back, curving backwards as far as he could go. The next exercise was placing his hands firmly by his hips and twisting his body until the cracks rang out. Nicky winced at their volume. Unfortunately muscle tension was not something that their healing cured.

Joe had decided to volunteer himself to help out with the renovations happening at the orphanage down the street because his husband had the largest heart that Nicky knew of. For the past three weeks they had been here, Joe would wake up without complaint when Nicky woke him at sunrise and leave for work. He would usually return after sunset, having stayed behind to wrangle the kids for dinner, hair covered in dust, plaster, paint, or on one memorable occasion, all three. Nicky occasionally dropped by to help with the kids, otherwise he occupied himself with cooking food for the crews and for the children.

But today was Sunday, so Joe had spent his day off sleeping most of the morning and afternoon away except for the meals Nicky had forced into him.

“Need help?” Nicky said softly as Joe grunted for the third time trying to stretch his arms all the way up.

Joe turned his head to see him quickly, shooting him one of his signature smiles. His shoulders betrayed his tiredness though. “I would never say no to your hands on me, ya amar.”

Snorting, Nicky made his way over to Joe, going around the bed to stand between his open legs. Gently, Nicky cupped the back of Joe’s neck with both hands and dug his thumbs into the space between his jaw and ears. Joe groaned, tipping forward until his forehead rested on Nicky’s stomach.

“Don’t stop.” Joe whined as Nicky moved to massage the back of Joe’s neck.

Nicky dipped down to press a kiss to the top of Joe’s head, the root of his palms skating their way down his back in a firm press. Joe’s spine seemed to melt beneath his hands as his husband went floppy in his arms. He repeated the motion twice more, switching to a faster pace, and then to using folded fingers.

“Maybe you should take a break Joe, just because our bodies don’t stay hurt or ache doesn’t mean we cannot be sore if we push ourselves hard enough.” Nicky said while bringing his hands back up until they rested on Joe’s broad shoulders.

Joe let his head fall back, eyes half closed as he peered up at Nicky. “We are so close though Nicky. Just one more week.”

Nicky sighed. “Alright my love.”

Joe smiled at him and fully closed his eyes, nudging his head back into Nicky’s hands.

“Si, si, I am getting to it.” Nicky said fondly, bringing his fingers up to bury themselves in Joe’s curls. Systematically, he gathered the hair into two fists, squeezed, and then relaxed, moving to cover all of Joe’s scalp. He moved down to squeeze intermittently at his forehead, then to his ears, tugging and rubbing at them. He pressed his thumbs to Joe’s temple, the hum from his husband’s throat vibrating through his hands. A firm swipe down his proud nose, another two across the faint field of freckles spotted near the bridge of his nose. Strong hold of the jaw, fingers curling through the beard.

When Joe was halfway to sleep, Nicky leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then another two over his closed eyelids.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open. “Hayati, I love you more than anything in this world, and will give it to you if you ask me.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow when Joe paused. “But?”

“But I will fall asleep on you if you try to have sex with me right now.” Joe said sincerely, and with regret in his eyes.

Nicky laughed, fondness overflowing from his heart at his ridiculous fool.

“I will do my best not to have sex with you now then.”

Joe let out a mournful whine which just made Nicky laugh harder. It seemed to increase in volume when he stepped away from the reach of Joe’s outstretched hands.

“Oh you will survive Joe.” Nicky said as he walked over to their dresser. He hummed as he sorted through the contents of the drawer until he found the bottle he was looking for.

Opening it, he inhaled deeply, a content smile forming as the soothing scent of sandalwood and rose oil rose to greet him. Turning around, Nicky snorted at the sight. Joe was leaning back on the bed, body weight resting on his elbows as his head tipped back. The line of this throat called to Nicky.

Moving towards him, Nicky placed the oil on the bedside table. He then gently pushed at Joe’s shoulders, the gentle shove enough to send Joe falling fully against the mattress. Carefully, Nicky threw a leg across Joe’s lap, hands running over his chest before they paused at the topmost button of his shirt.

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex.” Joe pouted at him, hands coming up instinctively to rest at Nicky’s hips, their warmth seeping through the thin cotton t-shirt Nicky had on. He sometimes wondered if it would be possible for skin to indent from the constant press of something against it, like water cutting its way through a rock, or a leaf falling in wet cement. Wondered if at a microscopic level, his skin would be marked by the whorls of Joe’s fingertips.

“We aren’t.” Nicky said as he unbuttoned Joe’s shirt. He paused when it was fully open, lightly running his fingers across the length of the toned chest he could recall from memory.

In the later afternoon light, Joe was painted golden, and Nicky went dizzy with the wave of want that suddenly washed over him. So long together, and yet Joe made him burn hotter than anything else he had ever known.

Joe was his miracle, more than his immortality, a miracle in the shape of a man who had found it in him to not only forgive a man who had committed unspeakable atrocities against his people, but to love him so deeply, Nicky could feel it in his bones. The sun rose from the east, the Mediterranean was home, Joe loved him.

Joe let out a little giggle when Nicky’s fingers caressed his sides, a ticklish spot Nicky was not afraid to exploit when he needed it. That wasn’t what this was about though. Joe did not need a tease. He deserved a reward.

Humming in apology, Nicky set about stripping Joe down and manipulating him until he was laying at the center of the bed on his stomach, naked. Joe for his part let Nicky shift him to his heart’s content, settling heavily into the mattress.

After arranging him comfortably, Nicky straddled the back of Joe’s thighs, armed with the bottle of massage oil. Pouring a handful out, he closed it tightly before wringing his hands, making sure to oil them thoroughly. He placed his hands on Joe’s shoulders, thumbs settling near the start of Joe’s spine while his other fingers curled around the meat of Joe’s shoulders. He squeezed tightly, pushing his weight into it as he worked to relieve the knots he could feel underneath his hands.

Joe started moaning, a deep and heavy sound that Nicky tried to tune out lest they distract him.

Here were Joe’s shoulders, that had once slung an injured soldier across them, a child who had come to frontlines in the name of patriotism. He had trekked through the trenches till he’d delivered him to a field hospital.

Here were his arms, corded with muscles honed through fighting with scimitar and broadsword and gun, but also honed with the manual labor of tilling fields and repairing houses.

And here, his forearms, his wrists, his hands. Long fingers capable of creating masterpieces that could rival the artistic geniuses of the past centuries.

His strong back, his spine, which bent but never broke, that never stayed down for long. That did not bow in the face of injustice, and willingly took punishment to spare an innocent the scars that would not mar his skin for long.

His hips, which had seated countless kids when they had downtime during rescue missions, a throne and a safety cushion from which they could learn the old names of the constellations, and about seeing the beauty even in the war-torn landscape.

His ass, which Nicky would truly never get enough of.

Further down, his thighs, his calves, hard from decades of walking, running, marching, criss-crossing Earth. Nile had attempted to do the math once, to see how many miles they had walked in their long lives, how many times had they theoretically circumnavigated the globe. The average person from the 21st century would walk 110,000 miles in a lifetime. She had despaired trying to figure out if she should combined Nicky and Joe’s steps or count them individually, and then given up entirely when faced with Andy’s history.

His feet, soft only because of their healing powers, feet that had carried him barefoot over every terrain, through grass and sand and snow and sea.

When Nicky reached back up to place a kiss on Joe’s neck, he heard Joe’s soft snores.

Smiling softly, he pressed another kiss to Joe’s cheek and got out of bed.

He returned to the kitchen, scrubbing the baking tray clean and leaving it to dry. He grabbed one of their disposable boxes and placed two pastries into it. Checking to make sure he was dressed decently, Nicky jogged down the steps of the house just as the busker was placing his guitar back in his case.

“Lorenzo!” Nicky called, signalling for him to wait up. Lorenzo blushed, and huh, maybe Joe wasn’t so far off with his theory the kid had a crush on Nicky. He gave him the box, Lorenzo accepting it with wide eyes.

Nicky shrugged and looked at his sweetly. “You should eat enough to have the strength to keep singing.”

Lorenzo grinned and nodded before waving bye to him. Nicky watched until the kid had boarded the bus before making his way back home. Just before entering, he purchased a handful of dahlias from the flower vendor.

Joe had shifted to his back when Nicky re-entered their bedroom, his arm slung over his stomach, fingers twitching as though they were searching for something. Nicky placed the flowers with the vase by the bedside table so Joe would see them when he woke up.

Walking one last time around the house to make sure everything was locked up, Nicky removed his own t-shirt and pants so he was in just his underwear. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them on top of the laundry hamper before he crawled into bed. Gently lifting Joe’s arm, Nicky settled on top of Joe’s chest, ears filling with the sound of Joe’s heartbeat.

A subtle hitch in Joe’s breath and the tightening of the arm around him alerted Nicky to his husband’s wakeful status.

“Thank you for the wonderful massage, cuore mio.” Joe breathed softly.

Nicky turned and nuzzled into his side, making him let out a laughing gasp. “Anytime, vita mia.”

Joe drifted back to sleep within a few breaths. Nicky laid awake for some more time.

Nearly a thousand years he had been by Joe’s side, had had the permission to touch him like lovers do. And yet the thrill of it was always present, the gift never unappreciated.

He did not know whether or not he would ever atone for all the sins he committed over his long life, and at this point he did not much care. The only person who’s opinion mattered to him was right here.

Joe, who had seen first hand what Nicky had done. Joe, who had been killed by his hands. Who had killed him his fair share of times. Who had allowed him to stumble his way but never left him. Who had heard every secret fantasy and dream and fear Nicky had thought of, and promised to guard them. Joe who had been with him for every adventure and story this crazy life threw their way.

Joe who spent their vacation helping with renovations at an orphanage.

And here, bare between them, this was Nicky’s reward. Call him selfish, Nicky would share a lot with the world, but this was his. This love, this trust. This life.

Joe was his. His love. His territory. His sanctuary. His to keep.

#my fic #my writing #the old guard #tog #the old guard fic #tog fic #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #kaysanova #let me know what you think!

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ravensbug · 3 years

Text

Beautiful

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Lin Beifong x reader

Request: No

Prompt: “It’s beautiful”

Summary: You’ve been stuck at home ever since you broke your leg. Lin refused to even let you go to the precinct to work at your desk. Seeing as you had nothing to do at home you decide to paint, seeing as it has been years since you’ve done so. Lin comes to visit to see how you're doing and admires your paintings. She visits more often to see how they’re going.

You picked up the two-inch brush and primed your canvas with turpentine. You decided you were going to use oil paints today, rather than the watercolor you’d been using for the past week. It was a change of pace since oil paint took much longer to dry. It allowed for more complex ideas and significantly more details.

You were always fond of painting animals, either from memory or when they would sit outside your window. You mostly painted birds, but there were a few cats and dogs scattered throughout your list of paintings.

Switching to a different brush, you situated yourself in a more comfortable position in your chair. Painting was much easier when you were standing, but your broken leg didn’t allow you to do that. It was more like Lin wouldn’t allow you to. She would scold you if she came over to find you standing while painting.

You really wished you two could spend more time together, but being a cop was a time consuming job for the both of you. More so for Lin, being the Police Chief and all.

Her visits were always nice. She would usually come with food, knowing you spend all day painting without a break. Of course she wouldn’t have eaten either, so she couldn’t judge you too harshly.

Today you decided to paint a raven, by far your favorite bird. Even though it’s feathers were all black, you were able to put so much color and detail into them. Of course feathers were still a pain in the ass to paint. If even one was off by size, color, or even shading you had to repaint it.

But that’s what made oil paint so much better than watercolor for this. If it didn’t look right then you could fix it. The paint didn’t dry right away. It was a nice ‘cheat’ as you would call it, even though it wasn’t cheating.

The downside was that the paint didn’t dry right away. Kind of redundant, but you couldn’t do too much work all in one day. The paint had to dry so you could add some details without the colors mixing. Things like eyes would be done last to avoid any chance of the paint getting wet.

You took a small amount of the general paint colors and painted over your sketch. You could still see the sketch, but there was a light layer of colored turpentine now covering it.

Turpentine was very important for oil paints. The paint refuses to attach itself to the canvas without it. It also serves as the cleaning agent, as water only moves the paint around everywhere.

You took some of the grey and began with the beak of the bird. Starting at the top was important to avoid smudging. You also had the background to worry about, but that would come last. You would rather be able to remove the excess paint covering the raven than paint over the background and have layering issues.

Once you were satisfied with the color and shading of the beak you moved on to the head. Black paint would be what you used for the most part. The eye, and the shading around it would come last, but it was still black.

You painted the small feathers that stick out from its head as well as the ones that cover some of the beak. The paint was nice and smooth, so you could get fine lines out of it when you needed to.

You painted down the neck and stopped before the wings began. It’s important to know that with oil paint you work from dark to light, rather than from light to dark. Lighter oil paints, like white, can never truly be covered once added. You avoid this by always adding less white until you get the desired shade.

Once you added the small details to add definition to the head and neck you began work on the wings. The most painstaking part of the painting. You started with the left wing first, which was at an angle. Less feathers to paint and it allowed you to get a technique figured out for this painting.

Because of the background you had chosen, a cherry blossom tree, you decided that the highlights on the feathers would include some green and even a hint of blue. It created a contrast that was noticeable, but wasn’t ugly.

The top of the wing was much easier to deal with as it was made up of smaller feathers. Since the wings were both tucked in you could get away with only using vague highlights to show off the small feathers. You knew you would come back to them eventually, either later while painting or when you finally decided you needed to fix it. For now it looked fine.

Moving down to the individual feathers you painted them one by one. Not just plain black either. Full shading on each feather before you moved onto the next. And if the previous feather didn’t look right after you finished another you would go back until it looked right. This was tedious and sometimes annoyed the hell out of you, but making these feathers look right was your main priority.

About halfway through the first wing you threatened to rip the canvas in half. The feathers weren’t cooperating like you wanted and there was the nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that you could never get them right.

Oh the perks of being able to paint. On one hand it relaxed you and kept you from thinking about being stuck in your apartment all day. On the other it pissed you off to no end when you couldn’t get something exactly right.

You eventually gave into your frustration when you threw the brush at the painting. It didn’t ruin anything thankfully, but it made you feel better.

Sitting back in your chair you couldn’t help but scold yourself for being stuck in this situation. You were always careful when it came to using your cables and zipping around the city or down from one of the blimps. But as life would have it you still weren’t careful enough.

Your fall wasn’t life threatening in any way, thankfully. Lin wouldn’t have known what to do if it had been. It was maybe fifteen or twenty feet from the ground when your cable suddenly snapped. There was training for these instances and you knew what to do.

You had used your other cable and attached it to a nearby building. It helped angle your descent to not have as much of impact which was the key to why you weren’t injured anymore. But you still managed to land awkwardly, catching your foot on a small hole in the street and breaking plenty of bones.

The adrenaline of the whole situation caused you to not feel anything, which was for the better. You tried standing up, but when your leg refused to hold your weight you knew something had happened.

Lin ignored whatever they had come to do in the first place and ran over to you. You weren’t crying, but there was a sense of sadness or disappointment around you.

No matter how many times you and the doctor told Lin you were going to be ok she never really believed it until you got home. You would have a cast on for six months or more if you tried to use the leg. You knew it would be more because you were stubborn as hell.

You didn’t want this to stop you from working, even if you were stuck at your desk for those six plus months. Lin, however, refused to let you come to work. She personally walked with you back to your apartment after you had come to the station the day after getting injured.

Lin would rather you be in a wheelchair than crutches, but she knows she can’t control everything you do. She remembers that you can handle yourself even if you’re more vulnerable now. She spends more time with you because of that, but neither of you complain.

Once you were done reminiscing about how you got to where you were right now you took a deep breath. Art wasn’t easy, you knew that. Being out of practice wasn’t much help either.

You picked up the brush from its spot on the floor and cleaned it off. The floor had some paint on it, but it was nothing a rag couldn’t clean up. At least it wasn’t a spill.

After another deep breath you went back to the feathers. Taking that short break to let out your frustration worked well. Whatever was stopping you from figuring out had left your mind. You could see that it was simply how wide the feather was. A stupid mistake that you scolded yourself for.

Finishing the wing became much easier now. It wasn’t faster because even though there were less feathers as you went down they also got longer.

You noted that you might have to change the shading after getting an idea. It was only a maybe though. Making it seem like there were flowers above the bird and out of view was hard, but not impossible. You would come back to that idea later.

The body in between the wings was left unshaded. Plain black was enough since your light source would make it shadowed anyway.

Now came the second wing. It would have to take much more time and patience for you to do this one, as you could see more of it than the other wing. Thinking you had plenty of time left in the day to finish the painting you started on the wing. You only stopped when you heard the lock of your door turn.

Were you startled by it? Yes, you definitely were. But it could be argued that Lin was more startled by having a knife floating inches from her face as she opened the door.

“Lin! Spirits you scared me!” you guided the knife back to the counter.

“I’m glad you’re prepared for intruders,” She seemed unphased even though you knew better than to think that.

“C’mon. You don’t need to be the high and mighty Chief of Police here,” you smirked. That was one of the things she had started to do around you. Let down her guard. It was rare for her to do that and you felt appreciated knowing she did that around you.

“I brought you dinner.” she lifted the bag of food in her hand. It was for both of you, but she wouldn’t say that out loud.

“You’ve been working on that all day haven’t you?” she placed the food down on the counter and walked over to you. She studied the painting while waiting for you to respond.

“Apparently I have,” you sighed. “I don’t even know the time.” You leaned over and looked at the clock. Seven in the evening.

“Well you got off early,” you smiled at Lin. It was rare for her to get off anytime before eight.

“Wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all,” there was a small grin that showed on her lips. You wondered if she left early on purpose just to see you.

“So what did you get us this time?” You added the us last second. You two had eaten dinner together so much in the past few weeks that it was the new normal for you two.

“Kwong’s,” she answered.

“No way! You didn’t?” You got up out of your chair and hobbled over, without your crutches. You were excited, who could blame you?

Kwong’s was something you had only a few times in your childhood, saved for ultra rare occasions, like your graduation.

When you made it over to the counter you saw that Lin had indeed gotten you two Kowng’s.

“How the hell did you get Kowng’s? They’ve been filled with customers for months.” Lin turned when she saw that you were now next to her. You knew your question wouldn’t be answered because of the scowl on her face.

“You have crutches, please use them. I’d like you back in the station as soon as possible,” she scolded you. It wasn’t her usual tone that she gave newbies at the station or even vets who were on her nerves. There was worry rooted deep in her voice. She cared about you, you knew that.

Lin walked over to where your crutches rested and grabbed them for you. She handed them to you and you reluctantly took them and put them under your arms.

“I’ll get the food ready, you go sit down. Use your crutches this time,” she told you.

You stuck your tongue out at her as you made your way to the table. If anyone else had done that, they would have been dead. But you weren’t anyone and you figured that out when you got injured.

You had speculated that Lin had liked you after the fourth day of her bringing dinner, as an excuse to see you. She would always say she was checking in, lying to herself about why she came to see you every time.

Once you had confirmed it, which was hard to do, you tried to get her to admit it for a while. You knew nothing could make Lin blush, let alone laugh, so when you were able to do both, that was the confirmation. That happened almost a week ago. Her hesitation to tell you frustrated you to no end, much like the feathers on your raven had.

Lin placed the take out boxes on the table and grabbed plates from your cabinets. Once they were on the table you both served yourselves some food.

Talk was usually minimal when you two were eating. You occasionally asked about what was happening at the station and Lin would usually tell you. She would grumble about it of course, because everyone there seemed to think her advice or orders didn’t matter to them. You would always listen, only sometimes saying things back to her about whatever she was grumbling about.

Today there was a strange call in and Lin couldn’t even finish telling you what happened before you were laughing your head off. You laughing brought a smile to her face because it was the first good thing that happened to her today.

When you two finish eating Lin is the one to clean everything up. You protest by trying to get up, but your leg seems to have a mind of its own and sends a wave of pain up your spine. You winced and sat back down in defeat.

Lin gave you another glare, but it was still soft. No anger was present, she couldn’t be angry at you. She would have done the same thing if it was her with the injury. Nothing would have stopped her from continuing to work in the station. Well you probably would and Lin would listen to you.

That was another thing that Lin would let only you do, argue. She would shut everyone else down immediately. Of course when she had tried to do that to you, you didn’t cower away like everyone else. You stood your ground against her and she admired that about you.

When she finished cleaning up dinner she moved to grab her coat and leave. You didn’t want her to. It was always what she did. Come in, eat dinner, and leave. It was nice and all, but you felt lonely cooped up all day.

“Could you stay? At least for a little while?” you asked. You sounded more desperate than you wanted, but it was how you felt.

Lin had stopped putting her coat on and looked at you. You felt like you made a mistake, but it was too late to go back now.

“We don’t have to talk or anything, I just don’t want to be alone.” You really sounded desperate now. You scolded yourself in your head for it.

“Sure,” she hesitated. “Of course.” She didn’t know why she hesitated to answer. Of course she wanted to spend time with you, that’s why she came over with dinner all the time. Bringing dinner was just the excuse though.

“You can continue painting if you want,” she suggested. You thought about it and then shrugged.

“I think I’m done working on that for today. It’s already made me frustrated enough,” you glared at the painting like that would do something.

“Are you having trouble?” she asked in disbelief. She was walking closer to the painting again, looking it over for a second time.

“Yeah, feathers are a lot harder than you think. It still doesn’t look perfect.” you had come over to the painting, on your crutches, and stood next to Lin.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she told you. “It’s beautiful.”

It was your turn to blush for the first time. You didn’t know if Lin wanted you to blush or not, but that wasn’t important. What she said was. She had always complimented your art when she came over, but it was always “This looks nice,” or a simple “Wow”. Her calling your art beautiful was like her holding your heart in her hands. Surprisingly soft for someone compared so closely to the element she could bend.

“T-Thanks,” you muttered.

“It’s been awhile since someone’s seen my art let alone compliment it,” you explained. Like that was the only reason for you to be flustered.

“I don’t understand why you ever stopped.” She looked at some of your finished watercolor paintings that were hanging by clips in front of your window.

“I never had the time when I was always at the station. I tried for a few months, but it just became stressful rather than relaxing,” you explained.

She had stopped and looked at one particular painting that stood out from the rest. It was the only non-animal painting you had. Still watercolor of course, which made it even more brilliant in Lin’s opinion.

She recognized it in a second. It was the view of the city from her office. You had painted her office. She smiled as she looked over the picture. She couldn’t see any mistakes. You truly strived for perfection in this painting.

“Oh,” you realized which painting she was looking at. “I was really missing the station that day. It made me feel better having some part of it here, even if it was a painting.”

Lin felt honored that you had chosen the view from her office as the part of the station you wanted to paint. She felt so gullible right now. Both of you felt that way.

“Thank you for always coming over,” you had said this a few times before over the past weeks.

“I honestly don’t know what I would do if you didn’t. I’d probably go crazy,” you laughed. That wasn’t entirely true. You would have found something to do, it wouldn’t have been as nice as having dinner with Lin, but it would be something.

“I’m sure you could’ve managed. Plus, there’s no one else checking up on you, so how am I supposed to know how you’re doing?” she raised an eyebrow at you.

“You could let me work at my desk,” you suggested.

“That’s not happening as long as you have that on your leg.” She pointed to the cast on your leg.

“I am perfectly capable of handling myself,” you argued.

You shouldn’t have argued. You knew that as soon as a sly smirk appeared on Lin’s face.

You had been leaning on your crutches while Lin had been talking to you. She knew that’s what you were doing and took advantage of that. She simply kicked one of the crutches out from underneath you and sent you falling to the ground.

“Shi-” You couldn’t react in enough time to find something to stop you from falling. You didn’t need to find anything because Lin wasn’t actually going to let you hit the ground.

You felt the wire wrap around your waist and hold you in your almost fallen position. You looked up at Lin who still had that smirk on her face.

“Y’know you really are mean,” you said jokingly. She grabbed your arm and pulled you back up. You leaned on her for support since you had dropped your other crutch while falling.

“I try,” she smiles. “Comes with the job.”

“Yet you rarely are to me.” you continued to lean on her.

“Because I don’t need to be with you. You actually listen to what I say,” she told you. You weren’t the only person who listens to her, Mako occasionally does, but that’s only after she scolds him.

“One, you’re my boss and two its kind of hard to ignore what you say,” you explained. Was this you admitting how you sometimes got lost in whatever she was saying? Yes it was.

“Everyone else has a pretty easy time ignoring me,” Lin counters. She took what you said as a compliment, in a way. She wasn’t sure what you were trying to say, so she couldn’t tell herself that it was really a compliment.

Your words were caught in your throat. How exactly could you tell her that you got lost in her voice. That sometimes your heart flutters around her the same way you know hers does around you. You really couldn’t explain in words. So you didn’t.

Did you regret moving in to kiss her? No, not one bit. Hell you were glad you finally did it because you knew Lin had been dodging around her feelings for weeks.

Her arms snaked around to hold you by the waist and you wrapped your arms around her neck. It felt so good, it felt perfect. You wanted to stay like that forever. But unfortunately both of you still need air to breath so you have to stop.

“You…” Lin began before pausing.

“Oh don’t act coy with me. You don’t think I’ve figured out why you come here so often?” You watched embarrassment flood her face.

“Not that I would have wanted it any differently,” you smiled. That made her feel better.

“Am I not allowed to worry?” She asked. She looked at you and the shell, the armor, that she wore to keep her emotions hidden was off. She was out in the open, her heart in your hands.

“You are. I’m glad you do,” you were still smiling. Of course you wanted her to worry, it made you feel loved.

“I still want to go back to my desk though,” you complained.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed.

“Love me?” you gave her a cheesy grin.

She rolled her eyes and kissed you again. Mostly to make sure you weren’t going to ask to go back to the station. You were hers to protect and she was going to make sure that you stayed here until your leg healed. Even if she didn’t bring dinner every night.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #fluff #writing #legend of korra

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, brief hint of prostitution.

wc; 10.2k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It turns out that you’ve worked yourself to the bone all these years. Day after day, you woke at seven, left at eight, and stayed in the betting room until late evening into the early morning. You didn’t realize just how taxing it was until now. For the first time in a long time, you’ve gotten more than just a couple of hours of sleep. You slept into noon.

This must be how Finnick felt for those years. He could, more or less, go to bed when he wants and wake well into the afternoon. And although the whole day isn’t up to your interpretation, you’ve had your fair share of evenings with friends. To think that he used to live like this every day, while you were busy worrying over tributes, or pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion is unfair.

And for a moment, you can allow yourself to be upset at him and yourself for letting it go on for so long. Finnick’s time in the Capitol is far from fun and perfect, but you still hate how he wasn’t required to do all the same things you are. That he didn’t put in as much effort as you have. Even if you two weren’t talking…

You count to three and let it go.

You think you can stop being mad about this now. To you, it looks like things have changed. Of course, you can keep your guard, but you can stop talking about it. You already know all the shitty things that he’s done, he knows it too. With that acknowledgement, you can save the thoughts for a rainy day.

You get out of bed at noon, dragging your feet around the room. It’s funny how you’ve kept that wake, eat, watch, sleep schedule for this long, and it was so easily broken. You thought that you’d have to fight with yourself to sleep in past seven, considering that some habits are hard to break. Yet here you are, sluggish. You suppose that more sleep doesn’t automatically mean being more energetic.

Not trying to be too slow, you only take a ten minute shower instead of your normal thirty. Finnick’s been in the betting room since midnight last night, it’s going to be a full thirteen hours by the time you go to switch with him. He’s running on fumes, he hasn’t slept in a day, if you remember correctly. The sooner you get down there, the better.

Not to mention, like nights, the mornings are extremely boring. As you’ve observed for the last couple of days--and years--the tributes are up to nothing. In the morning, they’re either still sleeping or getting ready to spend their day doing mundane shit. At nights, the careers might go hunting for obvious tributes, or they’re all going to bed.

On one hand, you think that this is good for Finnick. Like you’ve said before, he’s not as practiced during chaotic situations inside of the betting room anyway. The last time he saw anything remotely close to that was maybe yesterday, when you were going around talking to Capitol people. But that wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

You’re talking about the times where you’ve been in full-blown mentor mode. Quick on your feet, even faster problem solving, a silver tongue that easily has mentors falling on your feet. The only times you’re like that is when there’s an unpredictable fight that includes your tributes. You’re here for damage control, so anything that your tributes do inside of the arena, you’re going to be there to try and clean up what they can’t. Whether that be injuries, them losing all of their stuff, sponsoring weapons in the midst of a fight, whatever.

But on the other hand, he’s just out of practice. If he took afternoons instead of you--fat fucking chance--he would be able to go right back to how he was before. It’s like flexing a muscle, all your instincts are still there, you just have to relearn a few moves to make the whole job easier.

And you’re all about easy.

You go for black skinny jeans and a yellow-orange shirt with a breast pocket, and then slip on a pair of tennis shoes. As always, you’re the only one in the dining room, so you’re free to watch the television as you eat lunch. The avox serves plum and lamb soup, with a side of jasmine rice to make it more filling. You thank him quietly, already distracted by what’s going on the screen.

Without any context, you slowly put the pieces together by yourself. Starting with your tributes, Annie and Marsh are already off near the snares. They’re currently having lunch too, eating the sponsored food that you gave them yesterday. The gamemakers are allowing you to hear their conversation for the first time in days.

The gist is that Annie wants to go up to the dam. Like, follow the stream of water to the top and inspect the dam for herself. The condition of the cement will hopefully determine when they should leave the shack and head towards the village. But they’re working through one step at a time. Getting to the village is a whole new problem, as far as she’s concerned. Marsh agrees.

The Seven tributes are at the stream getting water, with the boy cupping his hands and bringing water to his lips that way. They’ve still got no supplies from the cornucopia, looking pretty dirty from sleeping in leaves and dirt for the past couple of days. They still look healthy though, so that’s a good sign. They’re getting all the nutrients that they need, to a certain extent.

Five boy is still on the edge of the woods off to the left, far away from the rest of the tributes. He’s not as close to the treeline as he was yesterday. If he keeps there for a while, you’re sure that he’ll surely be overlooked and hard to find like Nine girl. Who, speaking of which, is actually on the move today, instead of just sticking around in the grass and bushes.

She’s got her hair tied out of her face, any loose strands are tucked behind her ears if it can reach. She’s walking through the grass, heading towards the cornucopia. You think it’s a stupid idea, that surely she’s going to get herself killed for being so calm about walking straight into a wild pack of careers.

Until you look to see where the careers are this morning, and find that they’re inside of the woods. The cornucopia is completely vacant, all their supplies are there for a tribute’s taking. Nine girl saw this and decided to take a chance and grab what she can. Which means that she’s been camping out in the grassy hills the entire time, or she was in the trees after all. Either way, she’s kept a pretty low profile since the beginning. This is going to give her a new spotlight to work with.

She heads right inside without hesitation, not even waiting to hear if there’s any voices. Yeah, she’s definitely been keeping track of the tributes in the sky, and even going as far as to watch the cornucopia in her freetime. Especially if she’s so forward and confident. Considering she’s spent the last couple of days cloud gazing, this is fairly impressive.

She grabs a backpack, vaguely going through boxes and only stopping long enough to grab handfuls of items. She moves on quickly, eyes sometimes flickering to the mouth of the cornucopia. At least she’s not stupid enough to entirely rely on what she saw a couple of minutes ago. She knows that going inside is completely risky.

By judging what you can see with the careers, she has nothing to worry about in the end. The careers are far into the woods, and they’re only getting farther. In fact, the only tributes you think that have to worry about what they’re doing is the Seven tributes. In your opinion, they could be moving a little quicker.

If the careers do run across District Seven, this’ll be the first real conflict since the bloodbath. Of course, Sanguin killing Three boy yesterday was an event, but he didn’t really stand a chance against her in the first place. That was banking on false hope. With the Seven tributes, they might not have weapons, but they’re also two people. Just like Annie and Marsh. They have a chance, you always have a chance with bigger numbers. Where one person fails, another will prevail.

Nine girl grabs a knife on her way out of the cornucopia, officially heading towards the woods. She should’ve just went straight towards the village, that way she wouldn’t have the chance of running across the other nine people that are currently in the forest. This is all dependent on her goals, you suppose, but no one willingly tries to pick a fight unless they’re a career. It’s just the truth.

The last tribute that you haven’t mentioned is Bauhinia, Cecelia’s girl. Bauhinia already has a backpack of her own, courtesy of the raid she had conducted on the cornucopia by herself on the second day of the games. She’s got a bottle full of water, so that means she’s found her own source by now.

Actually, she’s been up against the dam for the past couple of days. Which means that the dam is leaking from some area, otherwise she wouldn’t have the water up that high. Not without a second stream, and from all the time you’ve spent watching the tributes, she hasn’t been to the original water stream.

Well, the dam is certainly more dangerous than you originally anticipated. It’s only the fifth day of the games and it’s already leaking water. You give it a couple more days until the entire thing blows. You keep saying a week and a half, you’re not sure it’ll even last the half part. The gamemakers are impatient this year. Or maybe they have no control of it. Either way, everyone is going to be going home sooner than usual.

With the hopeful exception of District Four, of course.

At any rate, Bauhinia is moving through the trees too. She has a knife in hand, which means that she’s looking for something or someone in particular. You’d say she’s just hunting, but there’s an edge to her steps. You bet that Cecelia is on the edge of her seat right now. Her only tribute is up to no good.

You finish up lunch, go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and leave the apartment. On your way down to the betting room, you hope that whatever Bauhinia is planning, she’s not going to act on it just yet. She needs to wait a little longer. If something does happen, Cecelia’s going to need a shoulder to lean on.

When you enter, you see that Finnick sits on the couch, elbow on the arm, leaning against his fist. Gloss and Enobaria are with him, with Gloss leaned forward onto his knees and Enobaria with her arms crossed. The only person that seems to be standing in your bizarre group, is Cecelia. Who’s swaying from side to side, hand on her mouth.

Looks like they’re all just as captivated as you were when you were watching. You check up on the Morning Line Odds, which might as well be known as the Afternoon Line Odds, with the times you’ll be showing up from now on. Annie and Marsh still hold their odds at 6-1, they haven’t moved since the first day, that's just fine with you. As long as they don’t drop lower, they’ve still got the interest of the Capitol.

As for the only group that actually poses a meaningful threat, Sanguine has moved up. From a 4-1 to a 3-1, she’s now tied with the boy from Two. You’re not surprised, it was only a matter of time before she went up—before any of them moved, actually. It’s worrying, though. No matter how many times you’ve seen it before.

You stop next to Finnick, staring up at the screen. In the time it took you to brush your teeth and get down here, things have changed. The gamemakers have focused on Bauhinia and the careers, so it explains why everyone—with the exception of Finnick, who sounds like he’s sleeping—is on edge. Doesn’t mean you have any clue what's going on.

You take a moment to analyze what you see. Bauhinia still has her knife in hand, moving through the trees. It looks like she’s trying to be quiet, carefully placing her feet in spots that shouldn’t be possible. All to just narrowly avoid a stick that might give her away. Give her away…

The careers are also going through the woods, but their camera is angled weird. Instead of watching them from the front, so that you can see their faces. Or from the back, allowing you to see where they’re going exactly. It’s at a diagonal, barely catching One girl, who’s leading the pack through the woods. The main is One boy, who’s in the middle, but even he’s a little blurred.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh!” You let out, causing your friends to jump at the sudden voice. They’ve been quiet for so long, you just snuck up on them, “Is Bauhinia stalking?”

Stalking, a term mentors use when one tribute is following another. Normally because the stalker has ill intentions, or they’re observing for future reference. It’s like when the Seven tributes followed the careers all the way to the stream of water and didn’t attack. Observing.

But Bauhinia isn’t observing. She’s got a knife in her hands, she’s making an extra effort to be closer, to hear their conversations. She’s moving right along with them, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Bauhinia isn’t stupid enough to attack all three of them, she’s waiting for an opportunity to pick one off.

You wonder what got her to think like this, to suddenly get up and decide that she wanted to risk her life. She isn’t specially trained in any way regarding fighting, Cecelia said it herself. And if you remember correctly, she only scored a six. The Morning Line Odds say that she has a 14-1 chance. She’s going to get herself killed.

“Yeah, she has been for a while now. She only just got closer.” Gloss says, looking over you, and then his eyes land on Finnick, “He’s been out cold since nine.”

Well, you more or less called it, even before you got down here. She looked slightly more relaxed the last time you saw her, but now she has to be more careful with how she’s putting herself in danger like this. One bad move can be the cost of her life, unlike before when she had a little bit of breathing room. She must’ve been loosely following.

As for Finnick, you’re not at all surprised. You gently place your hand on his back, rubbing slightly to wake him up. It takes a moment, reminding you of the last time you woke him up like this. He doesn’t stretch this time around, mostly makes a noise and raises his head.

“What time is it?” He yawns, and sinks into the couch, “Is she here yet?”

“A little after one.” You answer.

Finnick looks up at you, and lets out a sigh of relief. He must be exhausted, probably won’t even last a minute on his bed before he’s knocked out. You give him a smile, pat his shoulder, and take a seat between him and Gloss. There’s not much room, but you can imagine that Finnick won’t be staying here much longer.

“Annie and Marsh are doing fine.” Finnick yawns again, crossing his arms and staring at the tv, “The last time I checked, anyway. Which was…”

Enobaria lets out a laugh. Gloss snorts and finishes his sentence; “Five hours ago.”

Finnick vaguely motions to Gloss. “What’s happening now?”

“Flower girl is looking for trouble.” Enobaria says, “She’s like, ten feet from them at max.”

Finnick squints, humming slightly, “I’d head up but I have a feeling I should stay down here.”

“Probably.” You agree, “You can use my shoulder as a pillow if you want.”

Without missing a beat, he takes you up on your offer. He places his head on your shoulder, and only lifts it once to readjust. You smile a little to yourself, but it quickly fades when the betting room is suddenly filled with unfamiliar voices coming from the speakers.

Two girl--Vanilee--has a kama in her hand, which is surely a unique choice of a weapon. It’s not chosen often, mostly because of its range. Think of a scythe, with the curved blade and all, just with a shorter handle. It’s much better for hand-to-hand combat, you think. It’s not going to be much use for long distances, unless you were to throw it. Then again, you’re no expert. You don’t even remember seeing that in your cornucopia.

The sixty-fifth Hunger Games had all the classic weapons. Spears, tridents, bows, axes, swords, scythes and knives. You chose a knife and a sword, obviously. As most careers do, since they’re the easiest things to figure out. The only problem is trying to find a sword that isn’t too heavy, a knife with a blade that isn’t too short, bullshit like that.

Anyway, Vanilee is stopped, eyes searching the woods around her. Bauhinia is perfectly hidden behind bushes, not only crouched but also blending in. It’s understandable why the careers haven’t seen her by now, even with their experienced eyes. At least they caught on that the air was weird or whatever, but you can’t give them that much credit in the end, especially if Bauhinia has been following them for a while now.

Yeah, for a bunch of people that have been practically trained to think a certain way and catch onto situations, they’re not very in-tune with their sixth senses. Literally, even a hint of a gut feeling and you’re going to be searching around. Hell, you even did that yourself! The pond on the first day is the perfect example of this.

“What is it?” Sanguin asks, impatient.

“I swear that there’s someone following us.” Vanilee says, moving her hair behind her neck.

“Like who?” her district mate, Geare, asks.

Vanilee shrugs, not giving it up. She ventures out a little bit, squinting and searching. She won’t find anything, you’re sure of it. With the way that Bauhinia has placed herself, she’s in the best position she can be in. Except for the part where one career has caught on to her stalking. That’s the only bad news. Where one will go, the others will eventually follow.

“She’s just paranoid.” Sanguin says, stabbing her sword into the ground and leaning on it like a cane, “I think I would know if we were being followed.”

Vanilee’s eyes land on Sanguin, “Okay, genius. Don’t you think that it’s weird we haven’t run into any tributes yet?” she raises her eyebrows, shakes her head like she’s waiting for an answer, neither Geare or Sanguin says anything, “That’s what I thought. Maybe my paranoia will do something for us.”

Sanguin sighs, eyes rolling into the back of her head like a teenage girl. She runs a hand through her hair, and then slaps her thigh when she lets it fall, “Fine, let’s take a break. Whoever it is will have to move at some point. We’ll hear or see them, problem solved.”

Hypothetically, yes. But you watch as Bauhinia slowly sinks herself to the ground, crossing her legs. She’s lucky that her backpack doesn’t make any noise, otherwise she definitely would’ve been found by now. For a while, the careers all sit there, drinking water and eating a small portion of food to keep them going. So far, their hunt for other tributes has been a bust. What a surprise.

However, Vanilee signs her own death certificate when she says that she’s going off to pee. She’s told to stay nearby in the case that someone is around them. Sanguin even offers to go with her, it just leaves Geare by himself, though. It still leaves a problem, two of them can go one way, the other can stay back, or Vanilee can just go by herself. In the end, one person will get picked off.

The moment that Vanilee heads off, Bauhinia slowly and carefully begins to follow her. Cecelia has finally taken a seat on the edge of an armchair, fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips. Enobaria is shaking her head, upset that Vanilee can’t just pee in front of her alliance. It’s a stupid situation. And it’s almost rightful what Vanilee gets for it.

The good news is that Vanilee isn’t stupid enough to get out of earshot. If she were to scream, the others would hear. It would take them a moment to get to her, but at least they’re close enough if the situation were to arise. The bad news is that it doesn’t matter, not with the way that Bauhinia springs on Vanilee.

Really, Bauhinia doesn’t fuck around. She wraps her arm around Vanilee’s neck in an armlock, and then uses her other hand to tighten the hold. She has the same face of determination that everyone else gets when they’re trying to kill and survive in the Hunger Games.

Vanilee digs her nails into Bauhinia’s tan skin, hard enough to draw blood. This is the reason why Bauhinia lets go, clutching the spot. She lands a kick to Vanilee’s back, making her trip and go sprawling in the dirt and grass. Vanilee opens her mouth, drawing in a long breath of air, clearly going to scream.

Bauhinia’s on top of her, disregarding the blood running down her forearm. A squeak leaves Vanilee’s lips, just before Bauhinia’s fingers are tight around her neck, squeezing hard. Vanilee’s eyes widen, face quickly turning a shade of red as she struggles to breathe. First her fingers try to wriggle their way beneath Bauhinia’s hands, but then they settle for scratching down her neck and face, trying to inflict enough pain to get Bauhinia to get off.

It’s hard to watch, you can feel the pressure on your own stomach and hips, hands growing harder and tighter around your neck as you give up. As you slowly stop coming up with solutions to get out of the hold, as you forget the one way the training expert told you to leave a situation like this.

You reach for your throat, rubbing the spot where Lennox was sure he’d be able to cut off your air supply. You swallow thickly, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

You get a confused glance from Gloss, and Finnick hums quietly.

It’s the sensation of being trapped, not being able to escape. This happens all the time, especially with people hovering over you, even if it’s a joke. If you can’t have an easy escape, then it’s a cause for trouble. Even watching people not be able to leave, especially in a situation like this--

You take a deep breath through your nose, and hold.

Vanilee is turning blue, still fighting to escape. Bauhinia’s got red scratch marks all over her, some even bleeding slightly, blood running down her skin. She’s patient, and doesn’t at all seem to be concerned about the other careers. Not even worried that they might come looking for her if she doesn’t make it back soon.

You let out your air slowly, feeling nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Finnick asks.

“Still not over it.” is all you say, Finnick lifts his head up. You glance over to see that his eyes are open now, staring at the screen.

“Yeah, I can see why. Look away, I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

“Thanks.” you breathe, placing your head on the couch, staring at the sky. Well, the sky through the glass ceiling. There’s no way that the architects would ever let a place like this fall victim to something so heinous like rain.

“You went through something like this?” Gloss asks.

“Something similar.” Finnick says, he lets out a sigh, “And then got stabbed right after. To be fair, she was beat to hell in that fight. It was hardly fair.”

“But she got revenge, if I remember right.” Enobaria says, “(Y/n) single handedly killed three out of four of the career tributes.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t even count one of them, that was mostly mutts.” you say.

“It counts. I remember it counting.” Enobaria says.

It’s quiet for a moment, “Okay, it should be done.”

Right on time for you to look at the screen, a cannon blasts. Bauhinia releases Vanilee, stretching her fingers outwards, staring at her hands for a moment, like she can’t believe she’s done it. The moment that Vanilee’s name is yelled, Bauhinia is up and off of her, sprinting up towards the dam. It’s not very smart of her, she should be going downhill, or at least running the way she came for a while to put distance between her and the others, and then move downward diagonally.

Finnick goes back to putting his head on your shoulder. Enobaria has her jaw set, shaking her head. You can’t blame her, Vanilee was a trained volunteer. She got a nine on her training score, while Bauhinia landed herself a six, if you remember correctly. Even Vanilee had the feeling that there was something wrong, and she still went out by herself.

Two careers left in the game, though. It’s satisfying to see a second name greyed out on the Morning Line Odds. One less career for Annie and Marsh to worry about. If they were to go out and try and attack them now, you’re sure that it would be more than a fair fight. The only threat left is One girl. Sanguin.

Speaking of which, she’s running up towards where Vanilee lies in the dirt, red-purple hand marks bright around her neck. Geare is right behind her, weapon already displayed. At the pace that Bauhinia is going at the moment, you don’t think that he’ll have the chance to use it. But then again, the careers always bounce back in some unpredictable way.

Sanguin is quick, leaving Geare completely behind her, “Vanilee?” she yells.

She’s more or less making the same mistake that got Vanilee killed by leaving Geare behind her. Although, you all know that she can take care of herself in a fight. In fact, unlike Vanilee, Sanguin probably would’ve found a way to get out from underneath Bauhinia. Whether it be from the same way you did it, through momentum. Or some other unique tactic.

You’re not saying that Vanilee didn’t try, she definitely did. The marks up and down Bauhinia’s face and arms says so. The problem was that it wasn’t enough. But to be fair, there’s not much you can do in a situation like that in the first place. She was underprepared, caught off-guard without the opportunity to catch her breath and evaluate the situation before Bauhinia was back on her.

However, Bauhinia’s quick movement saved her. Just before Vanilee went to scream, Bauhinia cut off her vocals to make it impossible. And it’s not like she could’ve done much to stop the scratching, she needed both hands and all of her weight to put pressure on Vanilee’s neck.

Anyway, you think you’ll stop now. You’re beginning to struggle again.

All that matters is that it’s one less career in the arena, one more rung up the ladder. Gloss and Enobaria both have one tribute left before they’re sent home, which is actually pretty good news. It’s only been five years, but that’s ten tributes dead from District Four. Annie and Marsh can turn the tide, create a new era for Four in this decade.

Gloss is sat back now too, his hands resting on his thighs. Cecelia is digging her thumb nail into her other palm, clearly worried over Bauhinia. The clock is ticking down for Bauhinia, she got a headstart away from the remaining two careers, but now she’s started a real hunt for herself. The careers will either give up, or work themselves to the bone for revenge. And they never let anyone off easy.

Sanguin slows down when she sees a body, she doesn’t stop until she’s standing over Vanilee. Her sword was originally raised, now it’s tip-down into the grass. She sighs heavily, “Motherfucker.”

Geare appears behind her a couple of seconds later, paling immensely when he sees what used to be his district mate. He freezes in place, Sanguin shakes her head, points the tip of the sword at Vanilee’s throat, “She was strangled.” and then looks up to the woods around her, “Whoever did it has to be nearby.”

“Not if they ran.” Geare manages.

“Then we fucking chase them.”

Gloss breaks the silence between you guys, “Sanguin is an excellent tracker. All she has to do is find Bauhinia’s trail.”

Spells for even more trouble, more than just for Bauhinia. Annie and Marsh have been walking the same path everyday for five days. By now, they’ve stomped their schedule into the grass and dirt. If the careers were to just barely run across their shack, all they’d have to do is follow your tributes’ path to their snares. After that, their field of snares is gone for.

You let out a breath, running a hand through your hair before sinking a bit.

“The careers won’t wander upstream.” Finnick murmurs.

“They will if Bauhinia leads them up.” you whisper back, “You think that they’ll head back down?”

“If they’re smart they’ll leave the woods after they find her.”

“Fat chance, the careers are hound dogs. They caught the scent of one tribute, they’re going to be bloodthirsty for more.” you close your eyes, “I think it’s time for another sponsor gift.”

“The gamemakers will get suspicious. You’ve said so yourself a long ass time ago.”

He’s right. Annie and Marsh aren’t hurt or starving, sending another gift out of the blue would turn heads. Either you start hoping that one of them gets injured badly enough to need something other than healing cream, or you just have to let fate have her way with the arena. Which is hard to do, considering all the other times she’s screwed you over.

“This is their games.” Finnick reminds you, “Not ours. We’re in no control here.”

“I just want to help.” you say.

“I know. We just have to wait.”

Even though Gloss didn’t directly predict it, Sanguin goes around looking for a path to follow and finds the way that Bauhinia had run, “Grab her kama, let’s go.” she says, and then starts walking down the path.

Geare lets out a shaky breath at first, uttering out an apology. He takes the weapon and heads off after his only ally. It’s only slightly funny how Vanilee was the one acting a buffer between them, and now they’re having to work together. They start off walking, but end up jogging the longer they go on.

“I will not lose them.” Sanguin snarls.

Bauhinia isn’t running anymore, there’s sweat running down her face, she wipes her forehead to get the sweat from going into her eyes, and ends up smearing blood. She’s near the top of the hill, you can see the dam through the trees. She’s going to corner herself, there’s no doubt about it.

If she’s not careful, you think she could actually end up running the careers straight into the Seven tributes. It’s unlikely, you think. But if she runs along the dam, maybe a little downwards, it’ll bring her to their huts. They’re not at them right now, you don’t think. They do have to come back eventually, though.

Bauhinia huffs, sucks in air through her nose heavily. She winces when she stretches the skin in her neck and face, gently pressing her hand to the marks as if it’ll magically relieve the pain. She closes her eyes, takes another deep breath, and then takes off running again, not heading uphill, off to the right side.

Oh, that’s not good.

“She’s going to lead them to Annie and Marsh.”

“You don’t know that.” Finnick says, but he’s lifted his head.

“She leads them to the stream, all they’d have to do is head half a mile down and they’re at the shack. They take up home there, and District Four is fucked.”

“She’s bringing them into uncharted territory. The careers are going to be more apprehensive--”

And all at once, you, Gloss and Enobaria answer the same way; “No, they’re not.”

On any other day, the unison would be funny. But Enobaria just lost a tribute, Gloss is worried about Sanguin heading in recklessly without thinking first, and Cecelia might lose her second tribute. The stakes have definitely risen today.

The chase continues for hours. You watch as people come and go out of the betting room, all wary about leaving when something so important is happening. None of you move from the couch area, except to stretch your legs if they fall asleep. Finnick dozes on and off, waking on his own every now and then.

Bauhinia is running them in circles at this point, zig-zagging. She ran towards the stream for a little while before heading straight down the hill, then decided that was an easy way to catch her, so she took a sharp right to head back to where she killed Vanilee. The body has been collected already, it was collected as soon as they had all cleared out of the space.

Annie and Marsh have just now started their way back, thankfully. It’ll be sundown in two to three hours, which will then give Bauhinia better cover. Gloss said that it’s going to be shitty to try and track in the dark. It’ll definitely slow Sanguin and Geare down, and by then Bauhinia will be long gone.

“It won’t last that long, though.” Gloss said, “Bauhinia’s getting tired. Sanguin and Geare have been forced to work hard like this for hours. It’s only a matter of time.”

He was only saying what all of you were thinking.

Finnick goes from his head resting on the back of the couch, to placing it on your shoulder. You reach up and behind to rub his hair slightly, “You’re going to have a kink in your neck if you keep this up.”

“I’m literally exhausted.”

“Then go up to your room, you’re going to be miserable tonight.” you say, he hums.

“You think Annie and Marsh will be fine?”

“I can take care of them, if not.”

He sighs, “Okay.” Finnick gets up from the couch, yawning loudly and stretching his arms above his head. He gives one last look to the screen before looking at the others, “Good luck.”

“See you later, Finnick.” Gloss nods. Enobaria waves, Cecelia thanks him for his company.

Just before he goes, he leans on the arm of the couch, staring down at you, “I might sleep through dinner.”

“I’ll go and get you, don’t worry about it.” you smile, “Go sleep.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves, and as soon as he’s through the door, Enobaria snorts slightly. You and Gloss look at her, “There’s totally a thing between you two.”

“Okay, fuck off.” you wave your hand, “You have other things to be worrying about.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Enobaria’s amused.

You raise your eyebrows tauntingly, “My tributes are going to kick Geare’s ass.”

“Ha!” Enobaria laughs, “He scored a ten!”

“And Sanguin scored a nine, yet your little boy in there’s a sheep.”

“Oh, that’s got to burn.�� Gloss smiles, Enobaria socks his upper arm, barely earning a look of pain out of him.

Half an hour later, Bauhinia’s running on fumes. She’s inhaled all of her water by now and sweated it out. Every step she takes, she grimaces as if she’s got scabs on the back of her feet. It’s probably her calves burning from all the exertion. She’s completely out of breath, her face an underlying red color.

Bauhinia slowly comes to a stop, walking a little off to the side by a giant tree. She leans against it for a moment, you can imagine how awful she’s feeling at the moment. She lets go of the tree for only a moment, sways, and collapses in the grass, struggling to breathe. In a little less than two minutes, she’s hyperventilating, and it’s not exactly quiet.

Game over.

Sanguin and Geare are close behind her, both experiencing their own unique versions of exhaustion. Geare complains at least once every twenty minutes, while Sanguin just continuously hydrates, pauses, and keeps going. She might have scored a nine, but she’s got the determination of an eleven. Sanguin’s a fucking trooper.

There’s no way that Bauhinia is getting up from her spot in the grass. She has half the mind to clutch onto her knife though, knuckles a pale color from her hard she’s gripping it. It’s only ten minutes later when Sanguin and Geare are almost on top of her. Bauhinia falls silent, eyes slowly moving to where she had stopped running.

“Fucking hell.” Geare says, his voice is quiet, getting louder as they come to the spot, “Can’t fucking believe this.”

“It’s impressive.” Sanguin admits, “But they’re stupid. They could’ve at least tried to hide themselves. It’s like they didn’t even care.”

Bauhinia moves the knife around in her hand, Sanguin uses the sword to poke around at their surroundings, “I’m not seeing a path.”

“Which means?” Geare asks.

“Either they scrambled up a tree, or they’re right here.” Sanguin turns, looking at her ally, “Don’t kill them.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on it. Not after all of this.” Geare says, they split, going two ways.

Bauhinia slips out of her backpack straps, which is smart. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach starting to arise, though. You know exactly what she’s planning, and she’s not going to get very far. She’s not the only one that can ditch a backpack and go running.

Bauhinia tucks her knife in the leather belt, turns over onto her knees, watching through the bushes for the perfect moment to run. Geare has backtracked slightly, wanting to be thorough, just in case Bauhinia didn’t drop off there, and created a second, more invisible path. Sanguin turns her back.

You’ll give Bauhinia some credit, because not only is she arrogantly stupid, she’s also resiliant. One second, she’s standing over her black backpack, the next she’s twenty feet away from the careers already. All she had to do was quietly sneak away, but with the way she’s whipped through the bush leaves, she’s caught their attention.

“It’s a girl!” Sanguin shouts, shedding her backpack, “Give me the kama!”

Geare’s ripped it off of the backpack, completely destroying the strap that was holding it in place. Sanguin must run track in high school, because she moves through the trees like she’s running on solid ground. She doesn’t look where she’s stepping, just keeps her eyes on Bauhinia, tracking her every movement. Bauhinia moves upwards, Sanguin pushes for a diagonal path. There’s no getting out of this one.

At least Bauhinia’s running on adrenaline, otherwise you’re sure she would be some form of a corpse by now. You can’t imagine that all of this running is good on her heart. Especially when she’s probably not used to running for long periods of time.

Sanguin gets right up on her, but she knows that she won’t catch her exactly. It was smart of her to ditch her sword, since that’s heavier that shit. But it raises the question of the kama, because there’s no way she’ll know how to wield it… right?

Wrong.

Sanguin comes to a full halt, nearly throwing herself forward from how hard she stops. She draws her arm back quick enough to be a blur, and then whips it forward, the kama disappearing from her fingers. Sanguin is strong, because that fucking weapon flies through the air at twenty-five miles an hour at least. The curved blade goes right through Bauhinia’s back, sending her sprawling into the trees.

Sanguin is breathing heavily, continuing up the hill to her prey. It’s the same predatory look in her eyes that you saw in Lennox’s. The desire for sweet revenge, or the sadistic mindset of murder for enjoyment. No one who volunteers for the Hunger Games is in their right minds. You’re surprised that the districts don’t require them to go to therapy after shit like this.

Bauhinia is sobbing into the dirt, hands balled into fists. Blood has seeped through her shirt where the kama has stabbed her. Only a couple seconds later, Geare is coming up behind them both. Sanguin isn’t concerned, doesn’t even look to check. Instead, she leans down and grabs the handle of the kama, and without a single hint of remorse, yanks the weapon out of her back.

You cringe, a gag rising in your throat at how much blood comes gushing out. Bauhinia’s scream of agony is nightmare-inducing, making goosebumps raise on your arms and a chill go down your back. Forget watching her strangle Vanilee to death. This is worse. Much, much worse.

Sanguin’s covered in rich colored blood, little specks across her face like freckles. The kama is quite literally dripping in Bauhinia’s blood, landing in droplets in the dirt, grass and weeds. Bauhinia’s scream-sobbing, her back is a giant open wound, you think you can even see her spine. How the fuck is she still alive?

“Oh my god.” you breathe, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You feel hot, and your mouth is watering more than usual.

The Capitol finds entertainment in moments like these, and even worse, tributes like Sanguin long for murders that keep everyone on their toes. Cecelia lets out a shaky breath, sniffs, and then stands, “I can’t do it.”

“Cecelia, I’m sorry.” Gloss says.

“I’ll see you next year.” is all she says, and then she’s gone too.

A giant puddle is forming beneath Bauhinia, the stench of metal and dirt has to be strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. You remember when you cracked a head open, and immediately puked after. It’s the same thing, only yours being slightly worse.

“You’ve trained a fucking psychopath.” you get up from the couch to have something to do to take your mind off of the rising vomit in your throat.

“Yeah…” Gloss’ voice is distant.

It’s hard to watch the rest of what happens to Bauhinia. Like promised, Sanguin doesn’t let her get off easy. Bauhinia should be dead already, and yet the hits just keep coming. Sanguin’s so ruthless that Geare doesn’t even feel the need to step in, leaning against the tree with a dead-straight face, arms crossed.

Sometimes Bauhinia is able to grasp a few words, always a plea for Sanguin to stop. Otherwise, she’s gurgling blood when Sanguin hits harder. Just this morning, Sanguin’s odds had already boosted from a 4-1 to 3-1, but now they’re 1-1, Geare is 2-1. And your tributes are fucked if they ever run across these two.

By the time Bauhinia does finally die, it’s almost an hour later, Sanguin and Geare weren’t even done with what they wanted to do. They pick up their shit, and on the way out, Geare lands a particularly hard kick to the side of Bauhinia’s head. They don’t look back when they walk away.

The show is over. They grab Bauhinia’s backpack at where she’d collapsed and set up camp right there. Sanguin grumbles about how Bauhinia probably stole the backpack from the cornucopia a while ago. They raid it, toss the remaining stuff into the bushes, and start a fire. They have enough water to drink and take their time to catch their breath. But they’re not planning on doing anything else today. They’re at least a mile away from the stream, as far as you can tell.

Annie and Marsh are almost back at the shack. They’ve already eaten their dinner on the way, from what you remember. And if they’re hungry later tonight, they agreed to just eat it cold. They don’t want to take any chances when it comes to being caught at their homebase. You appreciate the both of them.

Five boy, who was on the left side of the arena, has now migrated almost all the way to the right side of the arena. The gamemakers were all so caught up in showing the chase for hours that they weren’t able to show what the others were up to. The boy moving from one end to another is actually pretty impressive, but you’re starting to worry. The right side is becoming crowded.

Your two tributes, the two careers, and now Five boy. District Seven is three miles away at most, the only person who’s on the other side is Nine girl. There’s eight people left in the arena, and more than half are too close to your tributes for comfort.

The evening goes too quickly for your liking, you just spent hours feeling nauseous for Cecelia, and now that it’s over it’s almost forgotten completely. Annie takes watch in the shack tonight, Marsh falls asleep next to the wall, one arm bent above his head, the other resting on his stomach.

Five boy travels for a little while longer before making his home. He picks leaves off of bushes and chews them while making a bed of grass comfortable enough to sleep on. Nine girl looks like she’s found herself a hiding spot under a rock that’s behind a fallen log. The log is a home to bugs, so you’re not entirely sure if it’s a good spot to stay for the night or not. And District Seven is comfortable in their huts near the middle-top of the arena.

With the sun setting already, and the betting room mostly cleared out, you feel comfortable enough to get up and try to eat dinner. You’re not exactly hungry, especially not after all that you’ve just watched, but you know that you don’t want to be ordering food in your room in the middle of the night. Or gorging yourself in the morning.

“I probably won’t come back down here. I don’t think another fight’s going to break out tonight.” you briefly twirl a strand of hair around your finger before letting it go.

Gloss gives you a hug, bidding you a good night. Enobaria says the same, you wish her good luck when it comes to breaking the news to Wade. She rolls her eyes, “He’s going to be dramatic about it, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be awful. The real fun here is going to be telling Cashmere what Sanguin did.”

You both look to Gloss, “Yeah, she’s not going to be thrilled. You think the gamemakers will kill her?”

“If she starts licking blood off of her fingers, definitely.” you say, which earns a laugh out of your friends.

The second you step out of the betting room, you start feeling better. It’s fresh air from what you’ve been breathing for the past hour. While the hallway smells like stale concrete, it’s also more moist than it is inside, but not moldy. The inside of the betting room is dry, mostly because of the fact that it’s underneath the glass ceiling. If you were to describe it; dirt, sunlight, and dust. And if it’s particularly hot: sweat.

You don’t head straight up, opting for a few minutes to yourself before you ultimately have to explain what happened in the arena to Finnick. You’re sure that you won’t have to get into the gorey details, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know the severity of it. Every couple of years, tributes like Sanguin come around, and it’s always a bloody ending. They always get stuck with some title like ‘Ruthless’ and take pride when other mentors steer clear.

Sometimes, you hear people debating whether or not you fall under that topic. And honestly, sometimes it’s hard for you to know, yourself.

You take the elevator up to the Four floor, holding onto the railing. You’ve seen more than your fair share of gorey moments inside and outside of the arena by now. At this point, you’re sure that you’re being tested to see how far you can be pushed before you snap. The truth is that you have an immeasurable amount of patience. It’s going to take a while.

The moment you get upstairs, you go ahead and turn the tv on and wait. Finnick had only come up here a little while ago, it wouldn‘t hurt to give him some more time before he’s subjected to a boring night. He can always just sleep down there, of course. But it’s more comfortable to sleep in your own bed, even if it’s just for a little while.

You take a seat on the couch, untie your shoes, and watch Annie. She’s talking to Marsh at the moment, mostly speculation on who died. Two tributes is a lot, considering all that’s happened. It isn’t until the anthem comes on, do they realize that they can just look into the sky and see who it was for themselves.

They both slip out just in time to see that Vanilee is one of the dead tributes from today. Annie grins slightly, elbowing Marsh. He elbows her right back, looking just as happy. And with Bauhinia showing up next, they head inside right after.

“Two careers.” Marsh whispers, “We ought to take them on ourselves.”

“Us and what army?” Annie asks.

They’re both quiet for a couple of minutes, until Marsh speaks again, “I think we could do it.”

“It’s a risk.”

“The entire Hunger Games is a risk. We knew that and volunteered anyway. What’s the harm in a little more?”

Annie doesn’t answer him, he drifts off to sleep. The truth is that if you’re not ready to go at it with a whole heart, you shouldn’t go into it at all. Annie is conflicted, you hope she doesn’t buckle just because Marsh is applying pressure. All it takes is one moment of hesitance with the careers now, and your tributes are screwed.

Still, you sit and watch for an hour or so longer, as the tributes settle into their spots. The moment that Sanguin says that she doesn’t want to take watch tonight, you’re at ease. You pick up your shoes by the back, and head up towards your room, right after telling the avoxes that you’ll be out to eat in a moment.

You drop your shoes off in your room. On your way over to wake up Finnick, you can hear the door close. It’s Elysia, dressed in sunshine yellow and pink. She gives you a slight wave before sitting down at the table. You continue on your adventure to Finnick’s room, gently knocking on the door before you open it.

Finnick is passed out on the bed, anyway. You stand there for a moment, hesitating on whether or not you should actually wake him up. You think that you’re just fine to keep going in the betting room for a while longer. If you take it easy after dinner, you should have loads of more hours in you. And you’ll actually get to see Cashmere and Wade for the first time in a couple of days.

However, it doesn’t work out like that. You go to turn and leave, but Finnick inhales sharply and sits upright on his bed, “Fucking Christ, you scared me.” He lets out a small laugh, and rubs his face, “That’s one way to wake me up.”

“Through your sixth sense?” You joke, Finnick snorts.

“Something like that.” He looks at you, “Anything wrong?”

“Just dinner time. And I should probably catch you up on what happened after you left. Get dressed, Elysia’s out here.” You flick on his lightswitch, since the room has grown dark without any natural light, and then you leave.

Elysia is at the table, food displayed all across it. She helps herself, giving herself small portions. Knowing her, she’s planning on trying everything at least once to try and not seem rude. You take your regular spot, and start out pretty light, not wanting to push yourself. You don’t know how much you’re going to be able to tolerate.

Finnick comes out a couple of moments later, wearing jeans and a black shirt. He sits beside you, but stares at the tv for a while, probably trying to figure out what happened exactly.

“Today was… eventful.” Elysia says, there’s a hint of distaste in her voice. You’re so glad that you got stuck with an escort that’s some form of sane. If you had one of those Capitol people that act like your former prep team when something bad happens, you would’ve murdered her by now. It makes for hard conversation when you’re at opposing sides.

“Finnick missed it.” You tell her, “Do you think there’ll be a recap of it?”

“Do you want to watch the recap?” She asks, face twisting, “Does he?”

You both barely glance at Finnick, who’s not very entertained by all the vagueness. It doesn’t even cross your mind that Elysia might be right and he wouldn’t want to watch someone literally get their back ripped out. You’ve seen the shit that Finnick has done, or watched when he was bored.

“Finnick’s got an iron stomach. Your back is to the tele anyway, you should be fine as long as you don’t turn around.” And you should be fine if you don’t watch the particularly bad parts. In the end, Elysia helps you rewind to when Bauhinia collapses in the bushes.

“This happened thirty minutes after you left.” You say, deciding that you should eat while you can.

Finnick doesn’t seem bothered at first, watching as the careers come around and start looking for her. It’s only their natural instinct, and it’s the same thing for when Bauhinia pushes herself to her feet. Finnick does react when he realizes that she’s going to run.

“Wow.” He says, pulling apart a honey roll, eating it in bits.

“It gets worse.” You say.

Elysia barely glances over her shoulder, apprehensive, “Much, much worse.”

Bauhinia runs, Finnick exhales. Sanguin shouts, collects the kama, and leaves Geare in the dust. He’s moving behind her, but not as quickly.

“She’s fast.” Finnick sounds impressed, “And so is Bauhinia.”

“Not fast enough.” You find your fingers twisting the ring, anxious.

Sanguin catches up, and the moment she comes to that quick stop, you hold your breath. The kama flies through the air, lodging into Bauhinia. Finnick tilts his head. The room falls silent, Elysia finishes her meal just in time for Sanguin to reach Bauhinia.

You turn your head away, but you’re still stuck with the sound of squelching and blood-curdling screaming. Finnick’s face twists, eyebrows pushing in, “How did Cecelia take it?”

“Left before this happened. Gloss tried to apologize, but she said she’d see us next year.”

“Probably not.” Finnick shakes his head, “And this went on for how long?l

Elysia turns the tv off, “Practically an hour.”

You two go back to eating, Elysia’s space is cleared. “Anything else happen?”

“Nine girl got a backpack this afternoon, just before I went down to see you. Her pick of the litter since the careers were absent from the cornucopia. Five boy is almost on the right side.”

Finnick chokes, “Already? When did he start heading that way?”

“Sometime during the great chase, the gamemakers showed all the tributes after the fact. Also, Marsh has proposed the idea of him and Annie going after the careers since they’re down a tribute. Annie doesn’t think it’s a great idea.”

“That’s because Annie has some common sense.”

“Yeah.” You agree.

Elysia stays out with you guys just long enough to pass on a few messages from Laurel and Pleurisy. It’s not anything important, just meaningless facts about their progress, they want to know your opinions on if your tributes still have a chance. Your answer is yes.

She goes to her room, Finnick finishes eating. You tell him that he can probably sleep for a while longer without having to go downstairs. You got confirmation from the careers that they weren’t going to try and go night hunting after what they’ve been through today.

“What're you going to do in your free time?” Finnick asks, you shrug and jab your thumb down the hall.

“Go outside and try not to puke.”

“Did it know you were so squeamish.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face.

You give him a look, and then disappear down the dark hallway. Your fingers find the doorknob, twisting it. The summer air is surprisingly cold, but surely refreshing. You take in a deep breath, and feel like an idiot almost immediately after. It’s air.

Finnick comes out right behind you, shutting the door. The city is calm, no one is in the streets celebrating an exciting day. You lean against the railing and take in deep breaths of air. It wasn’t a good idea to rewatch the recap, you’ve decided this now. Even if you weren't watching it directly, you still heard it all.

“Annie and Marsh are going to be okay.” Finnick says.”

“I think so too, as long as they don’t go running towards the careers. That’s a fight I don’t want to watch them lose. If you thought Sanguin on Bauhinia was bad, imagine what she’ll do to Annie.” You look at Finnick.

He hadn’t considered that, you can tell by the look on his face. He sighs, which turns into a yawn, “Well, Annie Can take care of herself.”

“Hopefully.”

“There’s no hoping, she can take care of herself.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Imagine having Annie or Marsh in Victor’s Village. One of them could be our new neighbor.”

You snort, smiling, “Talk about a nightmare. My house already hosts practically everyone during the dinners, adding Annie’s family on top of that means we’ll have to get a bigger table. Or worse, build one ourselves.”

“Reed is handy!” Finnick laughs.

“He’s not handy, and neither is Mox.” You shake your head, the ide app either of them attempting to build a table is stupid. You’ll just have to find some sort of carpenter and hope that the dining room is big enough.

“How many people do you normally have over?” Finnick asks.

“Think you have a table?” You joke.

“Maybe.” He grins, “I’m just curious, honestly. Last time I went to one of your dinners, I was sixteen.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my entire family, which is four. And Caspian’s family, which is seven.” Finnick laughs, you chuckle slightly, “Sometimes Mayor Burrula and his family, which is four. Definitely Anchor…” you trail off, counting, “Sixteen people, give or take.”

“You’ll invite Anchor but not Mags?”

“Oh! I forgot Mags. She comes to our dinners every night, though. Guess I should count her as family at this point.”

“Anchor isn’t?”

You look at Finnick again to see that his eyebrows are raised, “Still curiosity?”

He shrugs, “Are you still dating?”

“No, not anymore.” you follow a car until it turns a corner, “We were only together for a couple of months… last christmas through August.”

“Huh, felt like longer.”

You give him a look, “How’d you even know?”

“I pay attention. Why’d you break up?”

You hum, “Well, for starters, he’s like five or six years older than me. He’s worked through all of his problems, and I’m not even done yet.” you pick at your nails, “He didn’t like seeing me stressed out all the time, either. He was there for me when I needed him but he thought that I was dragging him around like a weight.” you look back at Finnick, “Partially your fault, mostly mine because I don’t know how to chill out apparently.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Finnick says.

You make a face, and then punch his arm as hard as you can. Finnick’s still rubbing the spot when you go back to where you were standing before, “Anyway, asshole. Him and I still hang out when we can. I take care of Mags, he takes care of Luther.” you snort, “You and Scotch have something in common, can you guess what it is?”

“Fuck you.” Finnick’s laughing, “I’ve done my part this year!”

“After I nearly killed you three times.” you run a hand through your hair, getting it out of your face, “But yeah, Anchor and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Seeing someone else?”

You look at him, “Are you?”

Finnick shakes his head, “No, not yet.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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asscreeds · 3 years

Text

Heila - Chapter 4

thank you again to @freyastrider for letting me yoink your screenshots :’D

TW for graphic descriptions of violence & death. Read on AO3 | Masterlist

The cool midday wind blew from the North, hastening the journey by longship, and Eivor thanked the Gods for their favor today. Curled up at the Wolf's feet, Nali hissed at Dag almost comically when he had boarded, scarcely recognizing the man, making Eivor chuckle. Not even five minutes into the journey, Dag started up another one of his stories, and Eivor did not realize how much she had missed the man's silly tales until her crew burst out into laughter at something absurd he said, the Wolf-Kissed joining in heartily.

Four hours passed and they had just passed Roucistere. By then the sun had sunk further into the sky, sending its rays into everyone's eyes and turning the sky and eastern sea a beautiful gold. Were it any other day, Eivor would have found the scenery beautiful, yet even with Dag's stories and the lightheartedness of the journey as her and her vikingr were reunited on the ship once again, she could only think of the battle ahead and prayed that it would go smoothly.

Thinking back to your sobbing form made her heart squeeze with some unknown emotion; she could not decide if it was pity or something else. The name 'Gunnar' stuck in her mind. Who was the man to you? Part of your clan, obviously, but what was he to you? A companion? Brother? Lover, maybe? Despite her trailing thoughts she surmised it was not for her to know and began chastising herself for even pondering. It was not important to her; what mattered was honoring her promise to you and seeing that he and the others were returned to you safely.

As they pulled into the docks, Eivor could see a few of her men that had been sent forward earlier in the day had already set up a small camp above the beach, higher on the hillside where the two-dozen horses could graze and rest. Jumping from the lypting of the ship to the dock she bid her vikingr follow her up the hill to the forward camp, the raiders most grateful for being able to stretch their legs after the journey.

As they gathered about the campfire, she called for their attention. "From what the scouts have told, the Danes are being held to the southwest of the barracks, near the most open portion of the city. There is a northern gate near the barracks that leads to the heart of the city that we will rush through. If two or three could ride forward to fire arrows and slay the gate's guards, we will catch them off guard and ride forward with little problems. The issue lies in exiting the city once we have freed the Danes, as the northern gate will be undoubtedly crowded with the soldiers from the barracks. We may either leave by the most western yet farthest gate, or the closer eastern gate - it depends on how the guards will react. Whatever happens, stick together," she explained, and her vikingr nodded, some cheering. Before letting them mount the horses she added in one final thing: "Remember, these are people who have been scarcely fed for days and been treated as animals. There is a very low chance that they will be able to defend themselves if they are targeted - load them onto the backs of your horses, then ride as fast as you can. Do not engage in battle unless you must, if you are outnumbered or are blocked from pushing forward. If all goes well we will overwhelm them with the suddenness of our attack and we will be able to slip in and out with little issue."

Then she let them go, and they each mounted a horse, standing near the mouth of the road waiting for her to lead them. To her surprise she found her personal mount among the horses; Askr, the rowdy, black destrier stallion she had purchased from Rowan a few months ago, whom she had just recently bonded with enough to be able to ride him into the heart of battle. Patting his nose, she mumbled, "I pray to Thor that you will not suddenly turn your heart in the middle of this and buck me," and then took her seat in his rune-inscribed saddle. The horse only gave her a side-eye and snorted.

Walking Askr forward to the road, she raised her fist to the sky, looking at the vikingr. "To Canterbury!" she cried, and the resounding war cries of the warriors hastened their mounts forward into a comfortable gallop on the stone road. By now the sun had eased down into the horizon, and they would reach the city hopefully just in time for the gap in guard rotation as the day rota switched for the night.

Even in the dim light of dusk Eivor could still see the steeples of the church rise into the sky as they rode over the hill, and then Eivor pulled them all to a slow trot. Much to her delight, they had just begun lighting torches for the night and even from a distance she could see only one lone guard at the northern gate. Looking over and nodding to an archer, she sent them forward to deal with him before they rushed in and the guard could call for help. "Light your torch near the gate once you have dealt with him." One Norseman would only puzzle him, instead of seeing an entire raiding party descending down the hill like a flood.

By now the last light of the sun had nearly gone, and the sky turned a deep indigo as the first stars began to shine and the slim crescent moon began to rise higher. For what was about to transpire, it was such an incredibly calm night; a gentle breeze, the soft chorus of crickets, the hooting of an owl nearby. As they crested over the hill in definite eyesight of any eagle-eyed guardsmen she saw the torch of the archer being waved around near the gate; their signal. Bidding Askr into a canter, she and her warriors rode forth to the gate, meeting with the archer that had remounted their horse. The breach was quiet, and though the thunder of the horses' steps were a dead giveaway, it seemed that scarcely anyone had noticed their arrival. Good.

Things did not go so smoothly once they rounded the corner to the area where the Danes were kept. Almost instantly four or five guards jumped up with weapons drawn from where they had been conversing around a table, and Eivor could only give a smirk as she and a few others drew their bows back to release a volley of arrows upon the men, not missing a single mark. They quickly fell, and she rushed forward to the imprisoned Danes. Despite their cages being secured with a lock and her nor the guards having the key for them they bent and broke easily enough. Drawing out her torch and stepping forward into the cage she was met by sad, sunken eyes that should have never belonged to any human being. Slowly, she approached them.

"I have been sent by y/n to rescue you. We will help you to mount the horses, take you to our longship and to Ravensthorpe where you will be fed and bathed," she said quietly, and immediately some burst into tears, rejoicing, others staring ahead quietly afraid. In all there were only maybe a dozen of them, four women and eight men divided into separate cages, all as visibly ill as the next. She did not ask any of them for their names.

As the fifth Dane was paired to a horse, a patrol rounded the corner to the clearing, and Eivor felt the rush of adrenaline blanket her mind. They were met with swift swords to their shields almost instantaneously as her vikingr beat them back away from the Danes, and the shouting from the conflict seemed to wake the entire city. Another two Danes were paired, and suddenly the church's bells began to ring, splitting the calm air of the night in two. Shit.

Moving as fast as she could she lifted a large man with bright blue eyes to rival her own onto her shoulders, placing him on the back of her horse. The man groaned with the movement and in her torchlight she could see dried bloodstains about his torso; another sad victim. She bid him to wait, leading Askr a few paces away in a shadowed alleyway between buildings to hide, and then ran back to the others to continue to pair the ninth, tenth, and eleventh Dane.

By now many of the Saxon guardsmen knew what was happening and descended upon the warriors like fighting dogs, and though the Raven Clan had a mounted advantage they were beginning to be pushed back into the clearing. Some had already fled, beginning the ride back to the longship. Eivor prayed that they would not be followed.

Grabbing the final Dane was where things went sour. An arrow flew right into the eyesocket of a Danish woman, who fell limp in the saddle and shocked the warrior at the front with the sudden dead weight at their back. More heavily-armored guards rushed in from the barracks and were poking and slashing at the horses chests, spooking them; little by little they were losing ground and precious time. The last prisoner secured, and with a final push from the guards, Eivor mounted Askr and commanded her warriors to follow her and run. They galloped higher into the city, heading towards the eastern gate with hopes of escaping cleanly - unfortunately, these guards were intelligent and had swarmed not only the east gate, but all other exits, too. They were penned in.

Eivor could not see any other solution. Pushing Askr into a hard gallop she rode forward as archers stationed in the barbican above the gate released their arrows and the Wolf-Kissed had raised her shield just in time to prevent them from piercing her and the man's flesh. Some others were not so lucky nor swift enough. Three more Danes were struck by arrows. In the pause of archers knocking arrows again her vikingr rushed behind her, yet this time the arrows were set aflame. The portcullis was still open, thankfully, though beset by a formidable wall of soldiers.

They would fall and be trampled just as any other.

Galloping forward in the final stretch Askr's chest connected with the unfortunate men in the path of destruction, hooves pounding on their bones as if wading through water. What a good horse. Thankfully, he was never wounded by the effort. Taken aback by the feat most archers did not fly their arrows a second time, and those that did scarcely hit their target. Nobody was injured that time. The other horses followed close behind and soon there was a pretty pile of corpses lying near the mouth of the portcullis like a disgusting blanket.

Exiting the city and breaching the cold night of Cent made Eivor release a breath she did not know she was holding, the shock of adrenaline still hitting her hard. She definitely was not going to do that again any time soon. Glancing behind her to check they were not followed, she opted to take the quickest route to the longship; regardless if someone came after them they would still board the ship as quickly as they could.

She decided to try and talk to the man on her horse, just as she'd done to you. "What is your name?"

The man stirred slowly, as if he did not recognize that he was being talked to. He could not focus on much past the way his body felt as if it were being carried forward by a valkyrie, mounted on her horse and riding towards Valhalla. "G-Gunnar," he croaked, and Eivor nearly choked on the cool night air. Ah.

Looking behind her at the state of the man, she realized he was in a far worse state than you were when she'd rescued you. His eyes were clouded, unfocused, dried blood seeped down from a wound at the center of his forehead; he was weak, with the way he barely clung onto the Wolf-Kissed's smaller frame despite being heads taller than her. There were the dried blood stains at his middle, too, and she could not guess where those wounds came from.

She prayed to all the Gods she could think of, even those that she did not revere, that he would stay alive long enough to make it to Ravensthorpe.

"Alright, Gunnar. I am Eivor. We're taking you and your clan to a safer place." The ride to the ship felt much longer than riding from it, despite being the same route.

Gunnar would seemingly gain awareness some moments, holding tighter to Eivor's waist and groaning in pain, and then completely lose it at others, falling limp at her back and scaring her each time thinking that the man had passed.

Only one time did he address her. "Y/n sent you…?"

"Yes, she did," Eivor said, and the beach and her longship were in her sight. Nobody was followed. Five of her raiders and their paired Danes had already boarded the ship, keeping it still to the harbor even in the night's high tide.

Gunnar let out a breathy wheezing sound. "Ah, she's alive…" he said, and Eivor could hear the smile in his voice despite everything. "Alive…"

Slowing Askr down to a trot they approached the longship, the tide rising to the point where the horses were lifting their legs in the water. There were still more of her clan stationed at the forward camp; they would return the horses to Ravensthorpe after they departed. Dismounting the horse, she grabbed Gunnar by the waist, laying the large man over her shoulders and carrying him to the ship. He could not find the strength to sit up on the seats. Eivor slowly lowered him against the side of the ship, propping him up.

Taking a headcount, every single one of her drengr survived; out of the dozen Danes they rescued, five would not live.

Jumping to the lypting again she commanded the ship be turned round and the sail raised. The sea's wind roared, boosting the speed of their getaway, though it would not hold over the river Thames as they passed Roucistere. The night's calm northern breeze did little to bend the cloth of the sails, so it was lowered.

At some point, Gunnar roused again. Nali had curled at his bloodied side and was purring furiously, and the man gently petted the cat, in another spell of awareness. "Hello, little friend of Freyja," he spoke, spooking Eivor.

"You are awake, Gunnar. Are you feeling better after a bit of rest?" Eivor asked, grasping at anything to keep the hope of this man reaching Ravensthorpe alive.

"No," came his simple answer, looking up towards Eivor. Blood began oozing from the corners of his mouth and his nose. Immediately Eivor rushed to his side, and all her warriors turned their heads, and upon seeing why the Wolf-Kissed acted so suddenly, they understood.

Gunnar could only look to Eivor still with an unreadable expression. Taking a cloth from her pouch she began wiping away at the blood, though it continued to run and run, and then Gunnar smiled at the Wolf-Kissed's efforts. In the calmness of the moonlight and Gunnar's awareness she realized how bright his eyes were and how they crinkled at the corners when they were not clouded with pain. Grabbing her hand, he willed her to stop.

"It is no use. I am a dying man," he said, and then let out a great, wheezing cough to drive the point home. Blood still ran from his mouth, down the scraggly hairs of his beard, onto the front of his tunic. Eivor stared, wide-eyed, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she stared at the fading man.

"...What would be your last wishes, drengr?" she asked, and Gunnar picked Nali up from his side and set her down farther away, and though Nali only weighed not even a stone it was a great effort for the man, who then fell limp after.

Gunnar seemed to pause, taking in wheezing breaths, thinking of the many answers he could give. Avenge my clan. Slay Frederik. Send word to my wife and daughter in Denmark of my death. Above all he chose one.

"Keep y/n safe," he rasped, suddenly reaching for Eivor's hand and holding it firm. "Keep her safe. Keep this clan safe. There is nothing else left of us.

"I have known her since we were children. Like a brother. I have cared for her as I have cared for my own blood. She is the voice of reason that kept us all bound together in times of strife. I could not protect her when I swore I would. I have known I would die this way for months, yet I did all I could to fight against it. For her. Please, keep her safe. In this world, and the next," he said, and his cryptic words both puzzled and troubled Eivor.

Eivor nodded, and squeezed the man's hand. "I heed your dying words. I will protect her to the ends of the earth."

Slowly, like the moon's face dwindling away as the sun rose each morning, he faded, the light in his eyes dying with him, and he went with a calm exhale into the night air. Eivor set his hand upon his lap and closed his eyelids. He would be given a proper burial, though where, she did not know. It was for you to decide.

The rest of the journey was in silence.

...

You had spent the better part of the day anxious, uneasy, unable to rest like Valka had wanted you to. To keep your mind distracted she asked you of your homeland, to which you gave mostly simple answers, and eventually you grew so anxious you had to pace. Scarcely moving around for days except to relieve yourself made your body shriek in pain with the effort of moving that you would have collapsed if Valka had not caught you. She scolded you like a mother would a child, and then you'd begged her like a child (much to her amusement) for her to help you relearn to walk.

After an hour and some more food and drink you were able to hold your own weight again, and after two more you could walk, albeit slowly, without the strain of the sliced muscles in your back bothering you too much. Valka took you to the pond behind her hut, and you revelled in the sound of the waterfall, and though the movement pained you enough to cry you could not stop yourself from cupping the fresh water in your hands and splashing it in your face. Valka laughed and said she could draw you a bath later. You stayed there for a while, until the sun began to hang lower in the sky, and then you noticed peculiar wisps of light that you've never seen before - catching one you found it was some type of delightful insect that held light within its body, and you let it be free again.

By now your stomach growled with hunger and you slowly raised yourself off the ground and went back into the hut where Valka had already gotten the two of you fresh bowls of soup and bread. Ever grateful you ate quickly, feeling a little calmer after the day. After you ate Valka drew a bath for you, and though the water was lukewarm to ease the pain of your injuries you were grateful to be able to clean the layers of sweat off your body. Valka helped you with the areas that you could not reach, even helping to wash and rinse your hair, and not once did you feel uncomfortable with your nakedness in front of the other woman. It felt natural, in a way, and you surmised she wouldn't really care, anyway. After redressing your wounds, you were surprised by her giving you a freshly-washed, simple chemise, made of soft linen and about ankle length, saying that "It would be easier on your body to sleep warmer, yet not be inhibited by heavier clothing," referring to the men's trousers and tunic you had been dressed in as a prisoner.

Then Valka made you more of the sleepy tea, and you fell asleep before the sun had even set. Thankfully you did not have a nightmare this time, and were back to the normal nonsensical dreams that you would never be able to recall come waking up.

Your sleep, however, was disturbed by the sound of a horn being blown, your mind instantly connecting the sound to Frederik’s horn, and you were sent into a minor panic before you remembered who was blowing the horn. It was not Frederik coming to face you, nor were you back on his longship heading to the monastery; it was Eivor, bringing the remnants of your clan to you. Adrenaline fueled you and you leapt from the bed, frightening Valka who had not yet fallen asleep and she rushed to your side, bidding you to return to bed, but you could not. You had to see Gunnar, you had to see your kinsmen. Limping forward a few paces out into the cold air of the night Valka ran back to her hut and returned with her heavy fur cloak, gently setting it about your shoulders so that you did not freeze.

You walked past the stables, down the western side of the longhouse, past numerous buildings you did not know the purpose of and saw several people getting off the longship. And even in the dark of the night you could see bodies being lifted onto stretchers, and your heart dropped. Some deep, deep, ugly part of you hoped that they were Eivor's warriors and not yours, to no avail. There were five of them, and you rushed forward, stumbling, and in the light of the torches you tried to make out faces.

A hand was felt on your shoulder, preventing you from toppling over, and you turned to face Eivor, who looked at you with a somber, defeated face. You did not like that look, nor the way you were turned away from looking at the final body of your kin. You could only stare silently into the Wolf's eyes.

"Y/n, I…" Eivor started, unsure of the right words to say. She sighed, and then took hold of both of your shoulders and squeezed. "I am sorry," was all she said, pulling you closer to her chest in comfort. You did not like her tone and what it meant. You could not make yourself move to match the warmth of her hug. The entire clan had gathered, but they were all silent.

Slowly, she let you go, and you turned around to look at the bodies. You could recognize the pallid faces of poor Lissi, and Jørgen, and Erna, Nils…

And then there was Gunnar, stiff and pale, blood staining the cloth of his tunic all around, and you froze, your mind not processing what you were looking at. And then you drew in a great breath and wailed, a painful, broken-hearted sound pulled from your throat like a bow running harshly across the strings of an instrument. You dropped to your knees, crawling closer to the man's body and pressing the palms of your hands to his cold cheeks, sobbing and gasping for breath. like a madwoman over his body, willing your hot tears that fell onto his face to bring him back to life. Why was he to die like this? Away from his family? His home? He did not even die in battle. He did not deserve this death. You hunched over his body, still sobbing, pressing his cold forehead to yours and then closed your eyes, and prayed that he would find his way out of Hel's domain to where he belonged, seated with the other einherjar in Valhalla. Maybe guided by a valkyrie, maybe out of his own will.

When you pulled away you were now weeping silently, and you could not bring yourself to look at the bodies of the rest, nor look at the faces of those that were alive, passing by you as they were carried to the barracks. You instead looked out into the forest on the far side of the river, and you could not bring yourself to move even as Eivor's men began to haul the stretchers away.

The Wolf-Kissed approached you, slowly, and set her palm on your shoulder again. "He passed peacefully, facing the moon and stars. His wounds were too dire for him to go on," she said, and you rose from kneeling on the ground, her hand on your shoulder a wonderful feeling keeping you grounded in reality. You could not speak, only staring ahead still. Eivor stayed by your side, silent for a moment.

"He… he called for me to protect you, to keep you safe as his dying words," she said quietly, and this made you turn and look at her through your tear-laden lashes. Eivor's heart squeezed. "I promised to him that I would. And my word is my bond. I will keep you safe, until… until you decide what you want to do," she said, the last bit sounding strained, as if that was not what she truly wanted to say. This was all very sudden to your already exhausted mind.

You stared at her for a moment longer, and Eivor felt you were looking through her, not at her. Blinking some tears away you slowly turned from her, looking at the water's edge and how it reflected the moonlight, trying to clear your head. "I… he… " you began, trying to find your words and will the lump in your throat away. "H-he… he was not my blood. But we grew up together… a big brother to me," you mumbled, not truly knowing why you were telling Eivor this. "I… I cared greatly for him. I still do. I've thought before what I would do if he passed, and even that hurt, but… this is…" Snivelling, you pressed a palm to your mouth so that Eivor would not have to see the ugly way your face contorted and lip quivered as you tried to hold in another anguished cry. The woman did not think any less of you. She stood unmoving behind you. "This is… this is Frederik's fault. All of it. If he had done anything…" you croaked, the lump in your throat rising again to the point where you could not speak further nor breathe, choking on air and holding it for far too long, and Eivor set her large palm on your shoulder again. When you did not respond, she slowly pulled you into another hug, being ever mindful of the injuries at your back, and you immediately clung to her, shoving your face into her chest even though it was still armored, your head under her chin, and sobbing anew. You couldn't help it at this point. You felt like a maelstrom of emotion, waves of sorrow washing over you as you kept thinking of Gunnar's soft smile that he gave you on the longship and how it contrasted with the stillness of his pale, dead face. And then you realized how cold you were, even in Valka's coat, when the warmth of the larger woman began to seep into your body; a small comfort. Eivor shushed you gently and dared to smooth your hair out just as Valka had, and you felt yourself growing calmer in the arms of the warrior.

After some time you felt more composed, calmed, and you slowly removed yourself from Eivor as the intimacy of her consolation and promise to Gunnar hit you and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, stepping back and looking to the patterns in the wood of the docks.

"I know Gunnar had a wife and child, back in Denmark. They should know of his passing," you said, running your fingers over the edges of Valka's cloak. Eivor nodded. "I will send a letter, then."

Swallowing, you thought of her words earlier. Protect me until I decide what I want to do, she says… you did not see any other path.

"You… you said that you would protect me, until I have decided to go elsewhere," you started, looking up to match Eivor's blue eyes, though difficult it may be. The woman blinked slowly and nodded.

"I… I do not think I could go elsewhere. I do not want to return to my family, knowing that Frederik could potentially return there, too. And whatever lies he spun they would believe his words over mine. I do not have a home there, not anymore," you explained, and then broke eye contact with the drengr, feeling a burst of anger at the entire situation for a moment before you took a deep breath, sighing.

"And you… you saved my life. You and Valka, you've helped me to recover. And that is something that I feel I can never repay."

You met Eivor's blue eyes again, and even in the dim light of the moon could see how soft they've grown. "I would stay with the Raven clan, if you would let me," you said, feeling small again. Eivor blinked again, and then her expression somehow grew softer, and nodded. "Of course, y/n. You will always find a home here in Ravensthorpe, and wherever else we may go," she said, sending you a muted smile. You will always find a home with me.

You let out a breath, sighing in relief and in exhaustion, and realized how cold it had gotten when you could see it hanging in the mist, and then you felt it seep into your bones. "Th-thank you, Eivor," you shivered, and the Norsewoman took note of your state almost immediately, and on instinct pulled you to her side and began walking you back to Valka. "Of course, lagr kærr."

Passing the barracks you were relieved to see some of your kin already tended to and resting; you would speak with them tomorrow of your decision. You did not have a leader, not anymore, and it was up to them whether they wanted to leave or stay once recovered. You, however, would find a home in the Raven clan yet.

Valka was, as expected, not in the hut, most likely at the barracks treating the last of your friends. After such a long day both you and Eivor were exhausted, and the Wolf bid you farewell at the door, turning to go to her own place of rest. Shrugging off Valka's coat you placed it in it's usual spot and then crawled into your cot, still straining with the movement. Your body had its own celebration when you finally relaxed, and though you would certainly feel the soreness tomorrow you were glad that you still had some mobility after the wounds near your spine had become infected. You would heal in time. Closing your eyes, you fell asleep blissfully quickly.

In the shadows of the longhouse's exterior, Randvi had watched how your smaller form tucked into Eivor's as the two of you ascended to the seeress's hut, and felt an ugly twist of envy in her gut. She turned away from the scene to storm to the alliance map. She still had reports to write.

#yall dont get a summary this time i am tired #my writing #valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor #lady eivor

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