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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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Hi! Um I was wondering if you could write a Domestic Bakugou where they were doing the do and the kid( I forgot his name wtf-😭) caught them? And then Like the next day at school my boy boy is doing it do other girls in his class- NOT LIKE IN A SEXUAL WAY👴🏽🤏🏽🕶 like when they got caught bakugo would say” I’m just protecting your mom from my villains” or sum shit💀✋🏽 So now he is like trying protect his friends 😭Just wondering😁

Ima crack writer so HERE WE GO!!😎

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Crack, smexy times, cursing, domestic

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“S-Slow down Suki!”

Your husband pounded into you at an alarming pace. Katsuki came home from work feeling a little frisky and so when their beloved son, Katsuo, was fast asleep, the couple decided to get it on. It was around four in the morning and you two had been going at it for an hour, already 3 orgasms in.

Your bodies were covered underneath the blanket as Bakugou rammed into you. His large arms held your torso close as your own wrapped around his neck. His aching member slipped in and out of you, head just kissing your cervix, as his heavy balls smacked against the swell of your ass. The sound in the room was terribly loud. The way your skin smacked against one another and your moans created a rough melody of sex. Thankfully, you lived in a rather large home and your son’s room was far, far away. Good thing he was a deep sleeper too.

“What’s wrong princess? Can’t handle it?” Katsuki teased with his hot breath against your neck. At your every cry to go slower (in fear of awakening your son) Katsuki sped up his rhythm.

“F-Fuck!” You screamed. Katsuki rose above you and captured your neck in his hand. He stayed close to you as his free hand went to your hip and brought you close to him while he slammed into you. The fast movements caused the bed frame to bang against the wall as Katsuki moaned into your ear.

“S-Shit baby! Oh fuck, you feel so good. So perfect wrapped around my cock.” He groaned in your ear. The immense pleasure and husky voice had your back arching, giving your husband the chance to wrap his arm under you and flip you both over. You tried to keep the blanket covering you both as you bounced up and down his dick, but failed as the fabric traveled down to only cover your lower ass.

As you bounced, Katsuki continued to thrust up into you. His hands held onto your ass and gave it a smack from time to time. “K-Katsuki! I’m gonna cum! Please! Mm, yes! Don’t stop!”

At the sound of your voice, Katsuki’s hands went straight to your clit and ferociously rubbed at it. His actions had you throwing your head back and your pussy clenching around him. Katsuki noticeably jumped a bit when you began to tighten around his cock.

“Oh baby! God you’re squeezing me so damn tight.” He said as he kissed your chest. “F-Fuck, gonna make me put another brat inside ya. You want that? Wanna be full of my seed? Give me another one, yeah?”

You nodded your head as your eyes filled with tears due to all the pleasure. His grip on your waist grew tighter as your legs began to shake. The sound of skin slapping sped up as you and Bakugou drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He screamed as you moaned loudly. You both came at the same time and to silence the both of you, Katsuki pulled you in for a kiss. You both moaned into it as your hips grinded on his dick. His hand squeezed at your ass again before giving it another smack and then soothing the stinging sensation with soft rubs.

You kiss would’ve continued had it not been for a sweet little voice coming from the doorway. “Dad?”

At the sound, Katsuki instantly jumped and flipped you both over again, covering your bodies with the large sheet. He layed atop of you while you looked away from your son. The blanket covered you both, leaving nothing but your heads exposed. “Katsuo! Hi son, what’re you..Uh what’re you doing up?”

“What’re you guys doing?” Your son asked with his doe eyes he inherited from you. Katsuki’s member throbbed from inside you and he grunted at the feeling.

“Umm...I was just- just...protecting Mom from villains!” You gawked at your husband for his idiotic response. Out of everything he could’ve said, he said that?!

“Cool! I wanna help!” Your son said starry eyed but when he took a step to come closer, Katsuki screamed out.

“N-No! Uh- no, it’s okay bud. She’s fine. Okay? Uh..please go back to your room and go back to sleep. Okay? Yes? Please?” Katsuki asked with a hurried voice. Your son only smiled and nodded before running back to his room.

You both visibly became less tensed as the two of you released relieved sighs. You turned your head to your husband who remained inside of you and slanted your eyes at him when he gave you a cheeky smile. “We sure got outta that one, huh?”

“Get the hell off of me Katsuki!” You said, pushing his face away from you. The shove caused Katsuki’s member to slip out of you and you gasped at the loss. Katsuki smirked down at you and you only grunted at him. “Really? Protecting me from villains? that’s the best that you could come up with?!”

“Well what was I supposed to say?!” He screamed.

“Uh, I DONT KNOW! Maybe, ‘Oh, Mommy’s just cold. Oh, we’re not doing anything son. Oh, THIS IS JUST A FUCKING DREAM!!’ I mean, c’mon Katsuki!” You said.

“Would you have rather had me tell him I was stuffing your pretty pussy?” He asked with a smirk. You rewarded him with a smack to his chest and a pointed finger.

“I don’t need your sarcasm.”

Katsuki only backed up a bit to see the wrecked sight of you and noticed the white cream leaking out of you and onto the bed. “Heh, what you need is for daddy to fill you up one more time.”

“Yeah right, your horny ass just wants to cum again.” You said with sass.

“Yeah, guess what? You’re right, so help me satisfy myself. Besides, you got to cum four times while I’m sitting at two,” he said while peppering your face in kisses from above. “At least let me have one more, baby.”

You smirked and this time it was you that flipped each other over. Katsuki sat up while you sat on his groin. “I’ll help you in another way, Daddy.”

You kissed his lips for a few seconds before moving south to go down on him. It has been awhile since you’ve tasted your husband so this should definitely excite him. Katsuki was definitely shocked but couldn’t stop the huge smile growing on his face. He watched you swallow his member and when you hummed with his cock sitting in your throat, he threw his head back.

“Fuck yes Princess.” His hand found way into your hair as he helped you bob your head up and down. Katsuki was in for a long, long morning.

—

Speaking of mornings, Katsuo was going to be having an exciting one. He had a morning play date with Kirishima’s son and the twin Todoroki sisters.

Akio, Kirishima’s son, came by early and so you were happy to see the two boys getting along so well, just like their fathers. With the exception of Katsuo being much more nicer than Katsuki of course. When you opened the door to greet your best friend, Momo, and her two daughters, you assured the girls that they’d have a fun time.

The twins ran in after greeting you and giving you a hug which left you a few minutes to speak to Momo before she left. You walked to the glass door that gave view of the kids in the backyard and noticed how Homura (the twin with red hair) had gone to play with Akio while Yukine (the twin with white hair) had been drawn to Katsuo.

You always noticed the little blush on your son’s face whenever Yukine came around. You thought his little crush on the icy-calm girl was absolutely adorable. “Kids!”

The little 5 year olds turned their heads to see you calling for them.

“Come inside, the movie’s almost on!” Seeing their faces perk up at the sound of the children’s movie, you giggled and motioned for them to come in. They all happily followed you and got comfy on the large couch. You placed a few snacks on the table for them before turning the T.V on. “Alright Katsuo. You’re the oldest and Mommy has some training to do. Daddy’s upstairs working if you need anything but if you’re all set, can I trust you to keep everything steady in here?”

“I promise Mom!” Your young boy joyously said. You gave him a warm smile before pecking his cheek and walking to the master bedroom to change. You walked in to find your husband on his laptop finishing his reports on the bed.

You walked to your dresser and pulled out a bathing suit. This caught your husband’s attention and had him smirking in the corner. “If you put that on, I’m assuming that’s an invitation for me to rail you~”

You giggled at his wording before walking to him and giving him a quick peck. “It’s for training dummy. I’m gonna head downstairs to the pool and workout with my water bending.”

Katsuki still held his smirk as he pushed away his laptop and pulled you into his lap. You were a bit jumpy but nonetheless settled while straddling his lap. “I have another idea for a workout and if you’re wondering, it does involve bending.”

He pulled you in for a few sweet kisses before you hovered your lips above his own to speak. You smiled as you placed your hands on his chest to keep the horn dog at bay. “What is with you recently? First it’s you coming home to fuck me stupid and now it’s getting riled up from me just holding a bikini.”

“Can you blame me? I married the most beautiful woman in the world, so please believe I’m gonna take full advantage of that.” He replied. You chuckled a bit before he pulled you in for more kisses and a little heated make out session. Your tongues came in contact and began tangling as he took you by your ass and had you grind down on him.

“Mm..Suki, stop,” you said with a laugh as you pulled away. “Seriously, there’s kids downstairs and we definitely don’t want a repeat of what happened last night with our own.”

Bakugou just huffed and groaned while slumping in his spot. You knew he wasn’t mad because as you got off of him and walked the the bedroom door, you looked back at him to see him smiling at you with eyes that carried all the love in the world. You smiled back before walking downstairs.

As you walked down the hall, you hummed a little happy tune to yourself. You love your little family so much. Your beloved husband and your precious son meant the world to you. Nothing could ruin your mood. At least, that’s what you thought before a loud smack interrupted your humming. Your head snapped to the sound and you immediately ran to the living room to check up on the kids.

—

“Are you sure you’re doing it right, Katsuo?” Yukine’s sweet voice said.

“Yeah, yeah. I think my Dad went like..this? *SMACK*” Yukine released a little yelp at the hit and that was when you caught sight of everything.

“Uh, guys?” You asked while walking into the scene. “Is everything alright in- AHHHH!”

You walked in to find Homura and Akio in the kitchen putting plates away and your son and Yukine on the couch. What made you scream was the fact that Yukine was straddling your son’s lap and you just witnessed Katsuo smack her behind. You immediately ran to the two and picked Yukine up while putting her on the couch and dragging your son by the ear up to your room while constantly saying “No, no, no, no, no, no, no...”

—

Katsuki was continuing his work after you left but after just a few minutes, you came back in constantly saying “no” as you dragged your son in by his tiny ear.

“No, no, no, no, nope! No! NO!” You said and tugged Katsuo in by the ear and shut the door. “Katsuo? Sweetie? What was that all about?”

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” Katsuki asked, shutting his laptop and getting up from the bed. “Katsuo what’d you do?”

“Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Mom just came in and started yelling.” Your son said in defense. Your husband looked to you in confusion but you sighed before whispering to him.

“Katsuki, I walked into the living room and Yukine was straddling Katsuo while he grabbed and smacked her ass!” You whisper-yelled. Katsuki’s eyes popped and his head snapped towards his son. On the inside, he wanted to laugh because damn his son was a playaaaaa but unfortunately he had to be a professional parent right now.

Katsuki walked to his son and crouched to his level. “Uh, Katsuo? Why did you smack Yukine? And why was she sitting on you?”

“I was doing what you did.” Katsuo simply said. Katsuki tilted his head in confusion with pointed brows as he pressed for more explanations.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I was protecting Yukine from villains cuz I wanna be a hero, just like you Dad!” Your son said with his adorable smile. “Just like how you were protecting Mom last night!”

Katsuki visibly got choked up at the last sentence and his mouth formed an “o” as he slowly turned to look up at you. He was still crouching as he stared up at your angry form that held eyes of fury and crossed arms. You looked towards your husband with a raised brow and he began to sweat a little with a nervous laugh leaving his mouth.

“Um, okay son. You had good intentions which is great but..you see..uhhhh....Y/N?” Katsuki asked for help as he turned towards you. You sighed and dropped your head as you walked to the two and dropped down to your son’s level.

“Katsuo, the way your dad was..protecting me last night is only for adults. Not for little angels like you. So please don’t do it again, okay?” You said while holding his little hands.

“Am I in trouble Mom?” Your son asked with a small pout.

“Of course not sweetie. Your dad was right, you had good intentions. Just- please don’t do it again my love.” You said with a wavering smile. Katsuo smile and nodded before asking another question.

“Can I do it when I’m older?” He asked with his pure child innocence. You froze up a bit and Katsuki laughed a little bit you turned to him and smacked his arm to get him to shut up.

“Uh- we’ll have that talk later, bud. For now just, please don’t do it. Okay? From now on, do as I say and not as I do.” Katsuki said and Katsuo listened. He nodded his head and you released a relived sigh before standing up and glaring at your husband. You dragged him by his arm to a corner and pointed a finger into his chest.

“The next time some B.S like this happens again, you won’t have to worry about protecting me from villains for a month. Am I clear, Katsuki?” You said with slanted eyes. Your husband had a quivering smile as he looked at you in very slight fear.

“Crystal.” He replied. You walked out the room to go and check on the kids leaving the boys in the room by themselves. Once your were a good distance away, Katsuki walked over to his son and looked down at him. Katsuki looked to each side of the room before looking back at your son and speaking. “Did Yukine make a noise when you hit her?”

Katsuo nodded and Katsuki smiled down at his boy before ruffling his head and pushing him to the bedroom exit. Katsuo understood and opened the door to go back downstairs as he laughed at his father’s rough but loving treatment. As Katsuki watched his son from the bed he couldn’t help but whisper a little. “That’s my boy. So proud.”

“What?” Katsuo asked as he thought he heard his father say something. Katsuki looked everywhere in the room except at the tiny child at the door.

“Huh? What? Hm? Ah, no, no. Nothing. Uh-...go back downstairs.” He said and Katsuo nodded before exiting. Katsuki layed back down on the bed with his arms behind his head as he smiled contently at the ceiling. “*sigh* Yeah, that’s definitely my son.”

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 4 years

Text

Wait For Me (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: smut, pwp

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: yikes switch!reader, switch!Jimin (but mostly dom), needy!Jimin, horny-ass-mf!Jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, ruined orgasm, post-orgasm torture, dirty talk, overstimulation, 69(?), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, pet names, begging, dirty talk, omg so much dirty talk I’m going crazy

(A/N): Am I the only one that’s into dirty talk like this? Maybe. But did I enjoy writing this? Absolutely. Kinda for Jimin’s birthday but really just me needing an excuse to be a sl*t in writing.

“Please, (Y/n)?” Your boyfriend whines from his spot on the bed, the tent in his boxers already pitched to full height behind you.

“No! Wait until I’m finished.” You huff in frustration, trying your hardest to focus on the words in front of you. It’s a stuffy Sunday night like any other, you sitting at your desk doing your homework at the last minute and Jimin reclining on your shared mattress doing whatever the hell he wants. Except, tonight all he wants to do is you. You’ve been prancing around the house in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties all day, teasing him playfully and laughing whenever he would get worked up. You thought it was funny how easily you could get him hard without trying, but it doesn’t seem so funny now when he keeps begging to fuck you while you’re desperately trying to complete your homework.

“You promised we would fuck tonight!” His pout is evident in the tone of his voice but you refuse to look at him. If you do, you just might give in.

“We will, but I have to finish this assignment first. It’s due at midnight, so I really need to get it done right now.” It’s your fault for waiting until the night of to work on this, but you wrongfully assumed that Jimin would understand and let you work in peace. All you have to do is complete a short reading and take a 10 question quiz and then you’re free, but what should have been a 15 minute endeavor has now turned into an hour and a half of arguing and rereading the same 3 sentences over and over. It’s getting ridiculous.

“You said you wouldn’t take long, but I’ve been sitting here ALL NIGHT waiting for you.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up!” You snap, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. His mouth falls open before he frowns, puffing his cheeks out cutely for no one to see. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you don’t question it and instead take his momentary silence to speed through a page.

The silence continues for a couple of minutes and you swear you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your seat. There’s some shuffling on the bed, more silence, and just when you begin to think he’s found something useful to do instead of bothering you, you hear a groan. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

He’s closer than he was before— probably sitting on the edge of the bed facing you now— and it almost feels like he’s breathing down your neck with how clear his voice sounds now. You scoot your chair up slightly to escape him. The sound of friction fills the space of the room, the image of his hand wrapped around his dick floating around your mind even when you refuse to look at him. He pumps fairly slowly, his eyes still glued to your back.

“Mmm, I’m so fucking hard, baby.” Jimin moans to you, trying to coax you into turning your head to see him. “I’ve been hard all day because of you and now you won’t even look at me? Such a bad girl.” You roll your eyes, tuning him out as best you can. Yet, you can’t seem to ignore the wet squelch that fills your ears when he rolls over his head. He moans louder this time. “Since you won’t look at me, I guess I’ll just have to tell you what I’m doing. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything.”

At your sigh, he chuckles, the sound dark and mischievous in a way that makes you ball up your fists. “Jimin,” You warn, but he knows the threat holds no real substance.

“My cock is so red right now, just aching to fuck your tight little pussy, princess. It’s leaking already, can you hear it? All that precum just for you.” You close your eyes, envisioning the sight you’ve seen so many times, but your eyes snap open when you remember your objective and turn the page of your book. “I want you so bad, want you to lick it all up and take me into your throat. Fuck. My hand feels nothing like that hot mouth of yours.” His strokes are longer now, dragging breathy, rhythmic pants from him.

You’d be lying if you said his voice wasn’t making you wet, but you won’t let him know that. He’ll be at this for a while, you know how much he likes to tease himself, so you try your hardest to get used to his rhythm and make it background noise as you progress through the reading. But the words on the pages don’t seem nearly as interesting as the words he feeds you from his plump lips.

“My head is so sensitive, princess, I can barely even touch it without almost cumming.” He grunts, gasping every time his hand nears his tip. You lick your lips, shifting in your seat, an action he catches onto. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing me cum all over myself while fucking my hand? Calling your name as I make a mess all over myself and our bedsheets?” The bed squeaks and you can only imagine that it’s from his hips bucking into his fist, picking up speed as he speaks. Your clit throbs annoyingly, and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips between your legs to rub over your panties. Thankfully, he doesn’t see this, probably because his head is thrown back as he lets out a series of moans.

You’re sensitive. More sensitive than you realized. And you almost let out a sound of your own when he curses. And for a brief moment— a split second— you contemplate abandoning your work and indulging him just to end your suffering. But no, you can’t give in that easily, you have less than a half hour to do your assignment. You’ll keep your hand where it is, however.

“Feels so fucking good,” Jimin lets out a drawn out moan, slowing his pace and working his hand again so you can hear it slapping against the skin of his abdomen. It’s loud and wetter than before, making you gush in your underwear at the thought of how worked up he’s getting. “I know how much you like playing with my balls,” You hear the grin in his voice. “So I’ll play with them a little for you, baby.” The obscene moan that falls from his mouth makes your eyes roll, the material of your panties completely soaked now at how desperate he sounds. You can’t help but to rub yourself to him, willing yourself not to turn around. “I wanna feel that tight little pussy bouncing on my cock, princess. So wet that you drip and cream down my balls as you ride this big cock til you cum, and beg me to cum deep inside your hot cunt. Will- oh shit- will you let me cum inside you tonight, baby? Let me cum deep inside and fill you up so you’re dripping me for days?” His voice is heavy with lust, it’s tone dipping deeper as his moans pitch higher. You assume it’s a rhetorical question so you don’t respond. “Hmm? Are you wet thinking about my cock and cum filling you up, (Y/n)?”

“No.” You lie through your teeth, voice surprisingly stable despite how your fingers move rapidly over your clothed clit. You can feel your wetness through the fabric now, and you just know there will be a stain on your chair when you get up, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“No?” He asks teasingly. “You okay over there? You haven’t turned a page in a while.” Damn him for being so observant. You almost forgot you were reading, the words all jumbled up on the page as your focus is pulled away by the pleasure. Fuck it, you’ll just take the quiz now to get it over with and accept whatever score you get. Jimin watches in amusement as you turn to your laptop, clicking open the quiz hurriedly and starting the questions, zooming through the first 5. He lets out a short laugh at that. “You better hurry, I’m getting close.”

Sucking in through his teeth, you hear him speed up again, spitting onto himself to make the glide smoother, and your core clenches in want. You read question #6 four times before you comprehend what it’s asking, your body betraying you as it yearns for you to look over at your stubborn boyfriend who curses out your name.

“Listen to that sound, princess. That’s what it would sound like if I was fucking you right now. God, I should just bend you over that desk and take you right here for making me wait like this. Make you take every inch of this cock and see if you can ignore me then.” He nearly growls this, an inaudible whimper squeezing from your throat. You would love that. He’s done it before, pushed you up against the desk and had his way with you when you thought it would be funny to give him a strip tease after he ordered you to get on the bed one wine-laced night. But he doesn’t deserve to have you like that after torturing you like this.

Only 3 more questions left and he’s getting more needy, the whiny quality of his voice letting you know how close he is before his words. A noise that you’re all too familiar with fills the air and you freeze. It’s quick and sloppy, the sound of his hand focusing directly on his tip at an inhuman speed that not even you could reproduce. His moans follow the pace, each one getting longer and pitchier, and you can almost hear how his hips lift off the sheets.

“You better not cum.”

“You want me to edge? But I’ve been on edge all day, baby.” He complains. Against your better judgment, you whip your head around to look at him. There, he sits naked on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide as he leans back on one elbow, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other stroking slowly at his thick cock upon your request. It’s red and leaking just like he said, the glistening tip causing your mouth to water. Jimin’s head is thrown back to expose his sweaty neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, eyes shut in pleasure. But once he realizes that you’re looking at him, he snaps his head up to meet your gaze and sends you a shit-eating grin at the flushed look on your face. Then, he resumes working at his head, arching his hips up in the most erotic sight you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing. That’s the last straw.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum!” You growl.

You click random answers on the last few quiz questions, hitting submit and slamming your laptop shut before stomping over to him, slapping his hand away as you clamber up onto the bed, pushing him down aggressively and throwing a leg over his chest to face his erection. It jumps at you, so painfully hard that you almost feel bad for him. But Jimin doesn’t deserve your pity right now. Not long after your hand finds him, your mouth fits over the soft tip.

“Fuuuuuck.” He grunts, hands finding your ass instantly. The crotch of your panties are soaked all the way through, the dark spot causing a smirk to cross his lips. “Why did you lie to me, princess? I thought you said you weren’t wet?” For some reason, hearing him say this makes you even wetter, and you suck in a breath through your nose when his fingers come up to touch your core, a deep hum vibrating through his body that ends in a chuckle. “Absolutely drenched, baby. Were you touching yourself over there? Your clit is so swollen I can see it through your panties.”

His voice hitches at the end of his sentence as you sink all the way down on him, pushing yourself to take him all the way into your throat just like he wanted, the tip of your nose resting at his balls. It’s partially payback for his teasing, but you adore the response you get from him as he nearly chokes on air from the sudden stimulation. You bob a few times, a delightful lightheaded feeling overtaking you as you hold your breath and force yourself to keep him in your throat. Your reward is that you finally shut him up, Jimin now at a loss of words beneath you and shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck into your mouth. Smirking, you pull off of him, dropping your ass down a bit until your core grazes his lips, and he gets the hint immediately. Always the eager lover, he pulls the crotch of your underwear to the side, groaning at the strings of arousal that cling to it. The sight makes his mouth water, his tongue lurching forward to lick a long stripe up your slit, gliding back down to suck at your engorged clit.

Your moan is muffled around him, working the top half of his shaft while one hand accommodates the rest, and your jaw is already starting to hurt from his size. Although he’s generally a small person, Jimin’s cock is anything but. Your jaw fell to the floor the first time he dropped his pants, the girth surprising you pleasantly. He’s got an impressive width that left you sore for a few days and a length that is well above average. His balls always seem plump and heavy, ready for you to milk them dry, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching up and grabbing them, massaging the plush sacs for your own amusement.

“Oh f- you’re so good at this.” He cuts himself off with a gasp, kissing the inside of your thighs and biting hickies into them as his mind becomes cloudy. He’s close— if the slight movement of his hips is any indication— and an evil idea pops into your mind. His hips thrust upwards at a particularly hard suck at his tip and you gag at the sudden depth, Jimin nearly yelling out at how your throat closes around him. “Yesss, baby girl, choke on my dick.” You preen at his praise, but keep your composure.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Your hips push back into him, covering his mouth with your lower lips, and he continues his work enthusiastically to distract himself. You’ve switched to using just your tongue now, licking up and down the solid shaft and circling around the head, providing just enough stimulation to inch him closer to the edge but no longer giving him what he wants. What he wants is a hard and fast orgasm. You’ll make sure that’s not what he gets. His groans increase in volume and frequency as you work your magic tongue, flicking over that sensitive fold of skin where his tip attaches to the rest of him, and it’s not long before he’s trembling.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles out a shaky warning, and you have to push down his hips with one hand when they begin to lift off the bed, your other hand jerking steadily at his base while you tease over his slit with the tip of your tongue. The pressure builds, his balls lifting in preparation for his release, and you coax it out of him with a few gentle sucks. “Ah!”

Jimin lets out a high pitched groan sounding almost in pain when you pull off of him, squeezing at his base so hard that only a few short spurts of cum make it out. Your mouth has been completely removed from him, it’s only connection being the long strand of saliva hanging from your lips, and he bucks up frantically in search of stimulation to complete his orgasm. Still rock hard, he practically begs you to move your hand, to give him anything as the few lonely globs of semen sadly skid down onto your hand like tears from his one-eyed monster. His mouth is covered by your pussy so you can’t hear his pleas, but the vibrations they send to your core are absolutely delightful. Once you’re sure he’s finished cumming, you begin your evil plan.

It starts with a few slow pumps, lubed by his own semen from his length that’s still twitching in your hand, but it quickly escalates to firm and steady strokes that have him squirming under you. You aren’t even going that fast, but the sensitivity makes him thrash and cry out prettily as you hold him down with your body weight. Jimin’s into all kinds of freaky shit, so this isn’t the first time you’ve indulged in post orgasm torture, but it’s somehow very different when he’s not expecting it. Your hand moves at an unyielding pace, unbothered by the way his legs open and close only to be smacked apart by the hand that still holds his balls.

“I’ll stop when you make me cum.” You state, unsure if he can even hear you. But his tongue dives in with renewed vigor, flicking relentlessly at your clit as you grind down on him. It won’t take long to reach your peak, his technique is flawless, licking wide circles around your bud with the flat of his tongue and then raising up to plunge his long muscle between your walls. Your essence dribbles down onto his face, wetting his chin and cheeks as he eats you like a man starved. You haven’t been this turned on in a long while, you didn’t think you’d be so into seeing him suffer in pleasure like this— his body writhing under yours and cock still so insanely hard in your hand just from the light hold you have on him. His hands claw at your ass, pulling you down and spreading your cheeks apart, fingers bruising the flesh in his haze of sweet agony.

You moan for him and bite your lip, closing your eyes as he edges you closer to your peak, your hand starting to stutter on him. It’s easy to get lost in him and grind down into his mouth, the feeling of his tongue between your folds heavenly, the feeling of his lips even better. But what sets you over the top is when his fingers snake into your opening, first two, then three. The stretch causes you to throw your head back, and you go flying head first into your orgasm when he curls into that one spot, tongue still on your clit and fingers wiggling inside you as your walls spasm around him. With one last groan, you lift away from him, finally moving your hands to his thighs to grip the muscles as you try to catch your breath. Jimin does the same, relaxing into the mattress as a few more ticklish waves flow through him.

“Was that okay?” You spin around until you’re laid on top of him, chin on his chest looking up into his dark chocolate eyes. He cracks a brief smile at your cuteness before flipping you over, capturing your lips sweetly. But the sweetness ends before you can even enjoy it when he bites down on your lip, a whimper falling from you.

“You can’t ask for my consent after it’s over.” He points out, trying to hide his giggle in the crook of your neck as he sucks dark marks there. “But, yeah, that was fucking hot.” The tip of his erection prods at your ass cheek, nudging the fabric of your soiled underwear. Without pulling away, Jimin hooks his fingers into your waistband, snatching them off and chucking them across the room, next comes your shirt, which he damn near rips in his haste to get it over your head. He growls. “So fucking sexy. And all mine. Right, princess?”

“Yes, Jimin, I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me.” In an instant you switch roles, dropping the momentary dominance to cower in his presence. There’s a hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes that you provoked, the product of the teasing he faced all day, and you drip down your ass at the thought of him taking you however he wants. You suspect he’ll be eager to finally fuck you, but you underestimate how petty he can be. The tip of his cock runs through your wetness, but when he sees the way you jump when it rolls over your sensitive clit, his eyes narrow, seeing an opportunity to get his revenge. Dipping down briefly to collect more of your wetness, he glides the slick underside of him over your bundle of nerves, using his thumb to press down and add pressure, then he grinds his hips ever so slowly back and forth over you, forcing you to feel every ridge of him bump against you. “Oh fuck!” You gasp out, spreading your legs wider and lifting your hips into him. His length is hot, still burning and hard from not getting a full orgasm.

“You like this, baby? You like how my cock feels between these soft lips, rubbing that cute little clit?” He grins when your eyes roll back, thighs already starting to tremble. “Maybe I should just fuck you like this. Make you cum without ever even entering you.”

“No! No, please, Jimin.” Your eyes pop open in alarm at the thought of him not fucking you tonight, though you know he’s far too wound up to deny both of you that. Still, he persists his humping, groaning along with you as you feel another orgasm creeping up embarrassingly fast.

“Hmm, seems like you’d like that though? I mean, you look like you’re about to cum again already.” The patronizing tone of voice he uses would piss you off in any other situation, but you’re not in your right mind currently. As he picks up pace you feel your mind slipping away, your clit throbbing and your empty walls clenching almost painfully around nothing. You try to hold back and prove him wrong, you really do, but your body betrays you and with every nudge of his tip you can feel yourself falling. The most you can let out is a desperate whine. “If you want something, use your words and tell me.”

“P-please...”

“Please what?” You can feel his eyes on your face, but your eyelids are sealed shut and your head is tossed back into the pillows. It takes everything in you to muster the strength to form a coherent sentence and push it past your lips.

“P-please fuck me, baby.” Your voice hiccups at a particular stroke, the hood of your bud now pushed back for more direct stimulation. You aren’t sure how long you’ll last like this.

“You want me to fuck you?” He coos, twitching against your lower lips.

“Yes please, I need your cock.” Asking in the sweetest voice you can, you peel your eyes open to bat your lashes at him, but they snap shut once again when he suddenly pushes inside your velvet walls, shoving you off the edge unexpectedly.

“That’s my good girl,” Jimin sighs once he’s bottomed out, hands roaming your torso as you shake uncontrollably. “So desperate for my cock that you came right when I put it in.” He clicks his tongue, but if you were cognizant at the moment you would have noticed his satisfied tone. You clamp down on him as your orgasm washes through you, and he rides the waves with shallow pumps of his hips and his fingers tweaking your nipples, grunting at the way you pulse around him.

He pushes in deeper as you start coming down, the sensitivity kicking in with every drag of his member inside you. He pays no mind to your whimpering and reaches around your back to lift you up, seating you in his lap with your heels on the tops of his ass. And your hips start moving immediately despite the tingling that shoots up your spine.

Though his body screams for release after his incomplete high, Jimin can’t help but guide you into a sensual pace of grinding and rocking, the intimacy soothing him. With your arms around his neck, you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you slide back and forth against his length, adding a swivel of your hips just to hear him groan. Your weight on top of his feels like the most natural thing in the world and he wishes you could stay like this forever. Running his hands up and down your back, he allows you to mark up his neck and collarbones for everyone to see. He always wears your love bites so proudly. Relishes in the slight tickle of your tongue and nip of your teeth that whisper to him ‘you are mine’. Rose petals bloom on the surface of his skin all the way up to his ear lobe where you nibble.

“Your cock feels fucking amazing, babe.” You whisper in that sultry tone of yours, noting how his hips twitch beneath yours. You’d never say it out loud but you’ve been thinking of this all day. Waiting to hold him close and just love one another. His lips plant a few stray kisses to the side of your neck before trailing downwards, capturing a pert bud between them. You lean back on your hands to give him more access, grinding down just a bit harder when his hips lift to meet yours to make sure you get every inch he has to offer. With your head thrown back like this Jimin can reach that delicate spot deep inside you with ease, humming at the shaky moan you let out. His lips curl into a grin when you begin to bounce with desperation, planting your feet behind him for leverage.

Jimin’s eyes peer up at you as you ride his dick, your breast bouncing in his mouth as he switches to the other to suck. Sweat has now accumulated on your forehead and neck, the droplets glittering against your complexion. Your eyes are screwed shut and the prettiest flush has overtaken your cheeks and chest as you work for your next high, lips bitten and eyebrows squinted together. Truly, you are gorgeous. It makes him impossibly harder to see you like this, his length already throbbing within you, but he holds back as much as he can simply because seeing you fall apart is almost more satisfying than experiencing it himself. It should be surprising that you’re getting close already, but it’s always been easy for you to cum quickly after your first orgasm, the sensitivity and connection you have with your lover making you as explosive as a lit firecracker.

“You’re so needy tonight, princess, is it because of how much you teased me all day? Did you like watching me suffer?” You don’t answer because, frankly, yes. You loved it. And it’s too embarrassing to admit, but Jimin already knows. “Well, let’s see how much you like it when I destroy this cunt until you can’t walk.” The gruffness of his voice makes your eyes roll, the tenderness he’d shown not even a minute ago gone completely as he lets his teeth scrape over your nipple.

Bringing you flush against his chest again, he hooks his elbows under your knees and starts pounding into you in earnest, your hands flying to his shoulders for stability. His core strength is a sight to behold, supporting almost all of your weight while sitting upright, pulling you onto his cock as though you weigh nothing. And all you can do is hang on for the ride, gasping and crying out at the way he repeatedly slams into your spot. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pull him closer and rest your face on the crown of his head, feeling your limbs go weak from the pleasure.

He grunts below you when you tug, bucking up harder when your walls start to squeeze. Wetness streaks down your ass, a string of curses tumble out of your mouth to accompany the lewd sounds of him pushing through your arousal. Each stroke is calculated, and you find yourself teetering very close to the edge.

“Please, Jimin, I’m so close. Please can I cum?” You mumble, barely coherent.

“My baby girl wants to cum again?” He coos into your collarbone, the ticklish skim of his lips sending a shiver through you. ‘My baby girl.’ That one word has you shaking.

“Yes!” You wail as his hands tighten on your ass, palming the globes harshly to slam you down on his length. You can just imagine how sexy his arms look right now, the muscles and veins bulging in his forearms and hands from how tightly he holds you, his biceps and shoulders on full display and glimmering with perspiration. His voice rumbles against you in that thick Busan accent and you almost cream right there.

“Beg for it.” He looks up into your eyes and you see something dark, a heady lust that lowers his eyelids and makes you feel like you’re looking at the definition of sex itself.

“Please please please let me cum, baby!” Your voice shakes with each jolt of your body against his. “I’m so greedy for your cock, I wanna cum for you. You make me feel so good!” Pleased, Jimin gives you permission and moves a little faster, pressing you down against him so your clit rubs against him every time, and you nearly scream from the feeling. You sing your praises into the room knowing how it motivates him, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried. Skin slicked with sweat, you let yourself fall into another breathtaking high, clinging onto your boyfriend who grinds you on top of him to savor the way you clench and throb around his tip when it’s buried deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You both swear at the same time, taking a brief moment to catch your breath as Jimin kisses his way up your neck, releasing your legs and squeezing you close with his arms wrapped tight around your back. Exhaustion dances through you and you sit limply in his hold, eyes closed and basking in his sticky heat. But the moment is soon over when you feel him twitch within your sensitive walls, growling as he shifts his weight until your back is pressed into the mattress with him kneeling over you.

“Keep those eyes open, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” You gasp when his hips begin to move again, your nerves rubbed raw and swollen from the three highs he’s already pulled from you. Still, your eyes roll in delight when he starts ramming into you again, pushing your legs as far apart as they will go and holding you open. “You didn’t think I would let you off that easy, did you, princess? You still need to be punished for today.” He coos, voice gentle despite his hard thrusts. You whine loudly and attempt to close your legs when he touches a sweet spot deep within you, the pleasure almost too much, but it’s like you’re addicted to him, unable to get enough even when your body begs for reprieve. “Shhh, I know you can take it, baby. I know how much you love it when I overstimulate this greedy pussy, so be a good girl and take it.”

He’s absolutely correct, you love the overstimulation and the twinge of pain and overwhelming pleasure that comes with it. And you know this is his payback for the post-orgasm torture you gave him earlier. You’re still incredibly wet, new arousal dripping out of your entrance every time he plunges in, the mess of your juices and his precum dripping down the crack of your ass and onto your bedsheets. Looking up at Jimin’s face, you see how entranced he is by the sight before him, eyes trained between your legs as he watches himself disappear inside you and re-emerge with a new coating of slick covering his shaft. Smirking, you reach your hands down around your ass and pull your lips open wider for him, biting your lip at the way his eyebrows crease together and his mouth drops open at the sight. His pace slows slightly, his breathing labored as he begins to slowly unravel for you.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy! God, you always take my cock so well, princess.” He hisses, licking his full lips when your clit throbs at his praise. He can see and feel when you tighten, his tip finding that spot again that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Jimin,” You mewl, your thighs shaking in his grip and fingers clawing the sheets. Tears build in your beautiful eyes. It feels so good, but would you be able to handle a fourth orgasm tonight? Your body feels pushed to the limit, but your lover says otherwise.

“C’mon, baby girl, cum for me one more time.” You shake your head in desperation, pleading with him with your watery eyes. “Yes you can. Just relax for me, baby, I got you. I want you to cum one last time, just one more, and then I’m gonna fill you up.” He encourages softly, yet you don’t miss the dominant undertones that tell that this is a command. With a huff from his nostrils, he pounds into you harder while fighting off his own release, staying deep right up against that spot making you cry out. His hands reach for your breast and you place your hands over his for comfort, moaning as he squeezes the bouncing mounds as you toss your head back.

“I- I don’t think I can...” You whimper, unsure if you can get there with your nerves feeling numb and worn like this. But Park Jimin is nothing if not determined, so he takes your statement as a challenge. Slipping one hand away from you, he presses his thumb to your lips, staring down at you intensely before you open.

“Suck.” On command, you swirl your tongue around his digit, coating it in your spit before he slides it out with a pop. Suddenly, he’s pressing against your swollen clit in tight circles and those special tingles shoot up and down your spine at the feeling. He hums at the sounds you make, eyes sealed shut because of the blinding waves of bliss coursing through your veins, building you up almost frighteningly fast. He feels you pulse, your jelly legs trembling on either side of him as they attempt to close, but his praises fall on deaf ears as you chase the sensations of his skillful hips and fingers, rocking into him with the last of your energy until you reach the brink.

“Oh my god-!” You shudder and shriek as you finally tense up around him. Your walls clamp down repeatedly as Jimin continues flicking your sensitive nub, and the tears that had been welling up finally spill over. He stops only when your breathing turns to pitiful snivels, wiping away your tears with caring hands and loving eyes. His hips are still fucking you through the aftershocks as he kisses his way around your face, planting his lips firmly on yours until your breathing evens out.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” He whispers out, resting his forehead against yours. “Will you let me cum in this pretty little pussy, baby?” You nod against him, staring right into his coffee colored eyes. “Mm, I want you to keep it inside all night, okay princess? So I can fuck it out of you in the morning. Will you do that for me?”

“Fuck, yes.” You moan. You can feel the way he gets just a bit harder, how his muscles start to shake just slightly, and you know exactly how to push him over the edge. Your fingers lightly caress the velvety skin of his balls, causing a surprised moan to leave his lips. “I want your cum so bad, Jimin. I promise I’ll keep it inside, I’ll be a good girl for you. Please fill me up.” Knowing how much your words would affect him, you use your sweetest voice and lock your heels around his back. His head swims with desire and his voice strains.

Sitting up a bit, his hands clamp onto your hips to stroke into you in earnest, face contorted in the sexiest of expressions. You want to shy away from his intense gaze but you can’t pull your eyes away from him, drinking up the sight of his clenching abs, sweaty chest and neck, and the pure hunger that overtakes his features. “Good girl. Don’t move. Enjoy the feeling of my cum filling you up.” With a few more grunts and groans, he allows himself to release into you, shuddering almost as hard as you were from the feeling of the full orgasm he had been waiting for all day. Spurt after spurt of his release covers your walls, and your inner muscles suck it in as if on instinct, throbbing around him to milk every last drop. You let him collapse onto you as he finishes, cock still throbbing while he gasps and pants into the crook of your neck. You can feel it already starting to leak out around him, but he won’t be too upset about it since he’ll likely have fun fingering it back into you later.

There’s a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath, pressing sleepy kisses to each other’s damp skin with rosy cheeks and smiles on your faces. Jimin moves first, groaning when his muscles scream out in soreness when he sits at the side of the bed to pull on his boxers. You giggle, commenting about how you were supposed to be the one unable to walk, not the other way around. He snorts passing you a pair of panties and helping you stand so you can make it to the bathroom.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you get ready for bed, grumbling about having an early class tomorrow morning. Which reminds you of the homework quiz you took tonight. Opening your laptop again, you check your score, only to have your face drop at what you see.

“50 PERCENT?!” You whip around to face your boyfriend, who was back to reclining against the headboard, the scene similar to the beginning of your night. “You owe me for this, Jimin.”

He waves you off. “Those quizzes aren’t even worth that much, you’ll be fine.” But you disagree because you’ve already missed 2 of them and only the lowest 2 scores are dropped at the end of the semester. He rolls his eyes when you tell him this, cutting you off with a dramatic groan. “Babyyyyyy, stop talking about school and come to bed.” His pout is unmatched, so you easily relent and shut down your laptop, huffing and puffing the entire time.

“You owe me cuddles and breakfast tomorrow morning.” You grumble as you climb in next to him, fitting your body with his.

“And shower sex.” He winks at you and you snort, turning out the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You laugh, snuggling up to his chest in the quiet of your stuffy room.

...

“So no shower sex?”

#Jimin smut #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #bts smut

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another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

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Congested and Contested

Donnie x Reader

Author: Admin JemPrompt: Hello! May I request a Image where the reader, (Donnie’s GF), is sick but denies it until she gets her butt kicked by the guys at training, almost faints, then confesses she that she is ill and Donnie cares for her? Thank you!!

Note: I am under the weather a bit so this really made me feel all happy and wanting a turtle to take care of my sick college bumm.

Warnings: Being sick? Undereating? Close to fainting? Honestly pretty chill.

Word Count: 2.1K

When you woke up for the day you could immediately tell something was off. Your eyes were so heavy and it felt like someone had shoved cotton balls into your skull, and left some plugging your nose. You couldn’t breathe except through your mouth which was so dry that you could barely take a breath without feeling like each inhale was a barbed wire being pulled down your throat then back out again. You groaned when you found your limbs were jelly. Everything felt disjointed and heavy.

You forced yourself upright and could feel your nose alleviate some of the blockages before coming back full force with a new friend- a pounding headache. Oh just great. I love a double whammy. Not.

When you heard the knock on the door and the bright light of the hallway invade your senses, it felt like your head would explode.

“You’re up- good. We have breakfast ready.”

You squinted at the large figure in the doorway, seeing enough features to determine it to be Donnie, with his bo staff strapped to his back and glasses being adjusted by a three-fingered hand. He smiled as you just groaned.

“Can I just stay in bed today?” You croaked, placing your head in your hands and gave a sharp sniff, trying to breathe easier.

Donnie moved towards you quickly and sat next to you. He moved your hair from your face and placed his lips against your forehead. You sighed as his cooler lips came into contact with your overheated body.

“Sweetheart,” He pulled away, “you’re burning up.”

You pouted as he got up and began walking the space of the room and began mumbling to himself on what your symptoms were. You sighed. You knew he would work himself into a worried frenzy and work until he was able to get you better. He had already been in his lab so much trying to find Shredder and what he was planning, you couldn’t put more on him.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry, love, I’m fine.”

You pushed the blankets off of you, shivering as you crawled out of your warm cocoon. Your headache began again with a vengeance. Taking a moment to recuperate, you pretended to look around for a clean shirt, when in reality you didn’t want to drop to the floor.

Donnie remained on the bed watching you with a crease between his brows. He knew you weren’t feeling well. He knew how stubborn you were. He also knew if he pushed the issue too far you would go silent and walk around the lair anyways. As long as he kept an eye on you today, Donnie could help when you were ready to ask.

When you were finally dressed- who knew trying to put on a sports bra when sick could be so freaking difficult??- you shot Donnie a smile and took his hand before leading him from the room. Donnie kept your hand in his and kept himself close to you the whole way. You just shrugged and let him have his moment of being protective. You couldn’t handle an argument very well with your nose running a mile a minute and your brain trying to replicate a whole drumline in your skull.

As you walked into the kitchen you were hit by so much noise and chaos you debated on turning around right then and there. Mikey was blasting “Wap” from the speaker April had gotten him- the same woman who introduced him to TikTok- while tossing a pancake onto a plate periodically. Leo sat with a smile, occasionally mouthing the lyrics and bobbing his head with the beat. Raph had resorted to banging the cutlery on the table in an impromptu drum session and was catching a pancake as they flew past him. Splinter merely sat reading a novel as he cut his pancakes into precise pieces.

Donnie nudged you towards a chair next to Leo before grabbing the two of you some plates. As he set one down in front of you you saw that Leo had been staring at you.

“What’s up, Fearless?” you drawled.

He just smiled softly and passed you some orange juice.

YES! Vitamin D to help take away some of the grogginess. When you were younger your mom would always make you a grilled cheese sandwich with either tomato or chicken noodle soup with a glass of orange juice. She always said it would help cure three parts of a cold. The hunger, the frowns, and the sleepies. It always cheered you up and never failed to make you feel like a little girl again when you got orange juice or grilled cheese.

You nodded gratefully before filling the glass and taking a big gulp. The cool drink on your dry throat felt amazing and you could feel your headache abate a bit. Well until Mikey walked up to you and decided to scream, “HOT PANCAKES!” before plopping six on your plate.

Your eyes widened. You were a food lover for sure, but there was no way you were going to be able to eat all of those. You raised your eyes to see Donnie smiling softly as he put four from your plate onto his. You nodded in thanks and started to nibble on what was in front of you. You weren’t even that hungry but you knew that if you didn’t eat at all then you would drop halfway through the day from malnutrition. That wouldn’t help your case of not being sick.

The boys were done eating in record time while you struggled to eat even half of your food. They shot looks at each other while Donnie’s eyebrows furrowed at your attempts to finish off your plate.

“Love?”

You looked up to see 5 pairs of eyes on you. You chuckled, “Guess pancakes aren’t the move for me today. Sorry, Mikey.”

“It’s all good, sweetcheeks,” Mikey took your plate and began eating what was left, “You feeling okay?”

“Of course. Fit as a fiddle.” You bluffed.

Donnie shook his head at you and stole a glance at Splinter, who nodded back.

You narrowed your eyes at them. What on earth were they concocting?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were stuck on the side of the mat as the boys trained. Splinter would ignore your attempts to jump in to spar with the boys and passed over you on all the demonstrations. It was infuriating. You had been training for months with the boys, proving you could handle yourself despite your smaller size. A stupid cold wasn’t going to keep you from training. Raph had the flu and still got to fight and go on patrol, but you couldn’t even train? No way.

You looked onto the sparring mat to see Raph on the ground, pissed as usual that he hadn’t beaten the leader in blue. He ignored Leo’s hand and stood up by himself. Leo shook his head and went to where Splinter was working Mikey and Donnie through some movements.

You smirked. This was your chance.

Snagging some water you strode over to Raph. Sniffed before getting to close so he wouldn’t hear your breaths ratting as easily.

“Hey Red,” you offered the bottle to him.

He took it with clenched hands. “Hey Y/N. How ya feelin’?”

“Fine,” you said through clenched teeth.

Raph raised an eyebrow.

“wanna spar?” you shot out before he could begin to ask further about how you were doing. Honestly standing and talking was wiping you out and your head was pounding.

“Nah I can’t fight ya when you’re like this. I would-“

You cut him off. “Scared you’re gonna lose again? I’m sure Leo would be willing to spar- more of a challenge anyways.”

You turned around but paused when Raph grabbed your elbow and whipped you back around.

“Let’s go.” He growled. He tossed the water bottle to the edge of the mat before backing away to get into his stance. So predictable.

As you lowered yourself into a stance, he pounced at you. You had to duck and weave to avoid his offensive approach. You were hardly able to take in a breath and all the jumping around was making your head spin. Raph landed a blow to your shoulder and sent you back a good 2 feet. You could hardly breathe anymore. Your vision started to get darker spots on the edges of your vision. Raph stopped and called out for Donnie. You crouched down when you began to sway. Your breath came in shallow gasps and it felt like there was fog in your ears, your eyes, and your tongue felt so heavy.

“Y/N?” you felt a cool hand press itself to your clammy forehead. “Love, you’re burning up”

Just as your vision faded completely you managed to get out, “It’s cuz I’m so hot.” Then it went dark.

When you woke up later, it was very quiet except for the mild hum of a diffuser on the table next to you. As you tried to sit up you found there was something heavy on your head. You lifted your hand and removed the damp cloth from your forehead to see that you were in a cocoon of blankets, head propped up by a pillow. As you shifted, you saw that someone had changed you out of your sweaty clothes into a clean T-shirt. You sniffed it and determined it was Donnie’s because of how big it was on you and the light scent of motor grease. You sat up quickly and took another deep breath. You could smell again! You smiled and saw a glass of ice water on the table. You gulped it down quickly and sighed as the cool liquid soothed your dry throat.

The door cracked open and Donnie popped his head in. He smiled and opened the door further when he saw that you were awake. He carried a tray with a bowl and toast with him, which he sat on the table next to you. He placed his hand on your forehead.

“Hi love,” he took out a thermometer and turned it on, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you opened your mouth and he placed the device under your tongue.

“You scared me back there. Why didn’t you just let me take care of you earlier? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” He looked at you in concern. You knew you worried him and it wasn’t fair. But you don’t want to be the weak link in his family. He was always so strong and took care of everyone else. You wanted to show him you could be strong too.

Instead, you pointed to the thermometer in your mouth.

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll wait.”

The thermometer beeped and Donnie read the temperature.

“99.7. Still a little high but better than before.” He said.

You looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t want to upset you.” You explained how you felt and Donnie remained quiet until you were finished. He pulled you into his arms and stroked your hair from your face.

“You are the strongest person I know, Y/N. You fight every day for us and you support me in so many ways. You always help patch up the boys after a patrol, staying up to help us talk through our problems. You always are so positive and push us to do better. You make me better every day and I am so grateful I get to have you in my life. You are so wonderful and giving and strong, it makes me want to be worthy of you.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “You don’t need to be strong all the time. I am your partner and it’s my job to take care of you. I love getting to take care of you.”

You sniffled into his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“thank you.”

“of course.”

You both sat there for some time, simply taking in the other's presence. It was quiet and peaceful. Well until your stomach grumbled.

“Hungry?” Donnie chuckled.

You nodded and took the bowl from him. Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Yes! You loved this turtle. You offered him a bite of the grilled cheese, then hunkered down into the blankets as he turned on Star Wars. He crawled in next to you. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, your head against his chest, and your favorite movie marathon in front of you, you knew you could stay here forever. With Donnie, you were happy and content. Maybe having him take care of you wasn’t as bad as you thought.

#donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader #sick #fluff #tmnt fluff #tmnt #donatello imagine #tmnt Donnie #donnie imagine

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

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We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

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We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

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starculler · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021: Day 5

Word Count: 6042 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine Ahsoka Tano, Rex, Mace Windu, Violence, Implied Torture, Fake Death, loss of limb (fingers)

Another one in by the skin of my teeth lol.

Anakin nodded at the pair of clones, red and white clad troopers from the Coruscant Guard, stationed in front of the outermost doors to the Chancellor’s suite as he strode past and inside to the office they’d always met in. The grand room, and the hall before it, looked as it always had during any of his visits: haloed in the sun’s light and filled with any number of priceless artifacts and fine, if simply constructed, furniture. And all of it painted a bright, rich red from floor to ceiling that gave way to the raised, warm gray flooring nearer the windows. He stopped before that raised section, hands fisted and trembling beneath the larger sleeves of his dark brown robe, and looked up, past the stairs and chairs and desk at its very center to the Chancellor himself, smiling placidly down at him.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” the Chancellor greeted, pleased, and it was all Anakin could do not to scream. “I wasn’t expecting you, but please come. Take a seat. I always have time for a friend.”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he said neutrally. He offered a shallow bow, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. It hurt to breathe, a vice wrapped around his chest and squeezing his lungs so painfully tight he thought he might suffocate on the spot. “We just got back from a” — horrible nightmare, he thought and only a hitch in his breath to give it away —“campaign in the Outer Rim. I thought the resupply was also a good excuse to give my Padawan and I some time to rest planetside. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

“Not at all.” Pal— The Chancellor, shook his head, smile still in place, if a little tighter when he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and said, again: “Please. Sit. How is your padawan doing? Last we spoke, you sounded quite frustrated. Understandable, of course,” he said, amiable and sympathetic. “Teenagers, especially her age, can be difficult, though I have no doubts that you’re doing your best.”

Anakin walked up the four steps to the platform and not an inch closer even as he offered a tight smile of his own. He tasted sour bile in the back of his mouth to hear the man so much as mention Ahsoka, even if he’d kept her name out of his mouth. Still, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the question and answered.

“She’s doing good, Your Excellency. I think we’ve come to understand each other a little better since the last time I was able to speak with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” said the Chancellor, sounding, to Anakin’s ears, just a fraction displeased at the news.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

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

They’d lost so many men.

Ahsoka hadn’t been able to purge that haunting sight from her since they’d hobbled back to the Resolute, victorious but silent. The bodies of men she’d slowly grown closer to lived on the backs of her eyelids, there to see every time she closed her eyes. All of them left behind like so much trash, unburied and with no time to mourn them as they hurried on to the next planet. The next battlefield. The next slaughter.

She shuddered, huddled up in a deserted corner of the ship — so deep in that she’d lost track of where exactly she’d walked — as far from everyone else as she’d been able to manage. Misery clung to her, sticking and ugly, and she knew. She knew it was worse for the men who’d lost their brothers. Their friends. So she sat alone, the tears long-dried on her cheeks, not wanting to interrupt or take up space she didn’t deserve. They weren’t her brothers, but they’d been her men for almost a year and she cared. More than she probably should.

“Hey, Snips.”

She jerked, eyes wide, not having heard her master coming down the corridor. He smiled, a wan, withering thing. Nothing at all like the usual bluster and brightness he showed off in front of everyone. She said nothing as he sat, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, in front of her. He looked so tired. Stressed. He hadn’t been the neatest or most put-together looking Jedi she’d ever met, but he’d grown slowly worse since their last trip to Coruscant.

“Hey,” she said, voice duller than she’d meant it to be.

“How’re you holding up?” She considered the question. Considered lying, but…

“Not… not great.” Anakin hummed, but didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare look at him as she spoke, not wanting to see how he felt about what she admitted. “I just— I don’t know—” She hooked her fingers into the thick, white fabric of her leggings and pulled her legs in closer. “I wanted to be a Jedi so bad.” She hated how she choked on the words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I still do, really. But. But there’s just so much—

“It’s awful,” she whispered and startled when an arm settled over her shoulder and pulled so she was pressed tight to her master’s side. Wrapped up in her roiling emotions as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed him move. She sniffled, turning to hide her face in his dark tunic. “There’s so much death, master. So much pain. I feel it all the time and I. I don’t know how to—”

The words died in her throat, smothered by an awful sob half-muffled by her master’s warmth. He rubbed her shoulder as she cried, pulled in as close as either could physically manage.

“How do you do it, Master,” she croaked once she’d mostly calmed. “How do you not care so hard?” She felt him still next to her, almost a flinch. Before she could apologize, take the words and this moment back and flee to her room, he answered, his own voice low and soft. Gentle.

“You never stop, Snips. You just … learn. You put it aside when you’re needed, and work through it when you’re not.” He sighed. “I’m not— Well. You know I’m not always great with my emotions, not like Obi-Wan or some of the other Masters.” She nodded in the lull, waiting for him to gather himself. “But the worst of it, the parts that’d only hurt you or the men to see? I keep it locked in a little box with an old fashioned lock and key, stashed away until I have time to meditate or process or even just when I work on a ship or droid.

“Every time we come back from a campaign and I count how many we’ve lost, I feel it so hard I think I’ll never breathe again. Usually, I’ll rely on Obi-Wan if it’s bad enough and he knows he can lean on me if he needs it. You, my young Padawan, can come to me any time you need to,” he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime. Any reason. Even if it’s just to sit quietly together.”

Ahsoka nodded, not feeling better but not quite as alone either.

“Can we meditate?” She asked, voice trembling and tiny.

“Of course,” he said. Neither of them moved, not just yet.

“Hey Skyguy?” Anakin hummed a response. “You can count on me too, if you want.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she saw his other hand twitch from the corner of her eyes — a brief motion, there and done.

“I know,” he murmured, so quietly a human wouldn’t have heard him even though her montrals picked the words up easily. “I know.”

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

Anakin sucked in a deep, bracing breath, willing himself to be still and patient for just a little longer despite how every second he stood there only fueled the pit of anger coiled tightly in his gut. It had been easier, on the Resolute — in space and among his men where he didn’t have to look at the face of a man who’d lied to him for as long as they’d known each other. A man he’d defended against criticism and let whisper in his ear. A man he’d let slowly poison him from the inside until the rot had settled deep in the core of him, a permanent fixture he looked upon with shame and regret. And anger.

“I’m afraid I haven’t come just to visit an old friend, though.” His voice, miraculously, didn’t so much as waver, the words flowing as smoothly from him as they never had.

The Chancellor’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment — so quick he almost thought he’d misinterpreted it, a trick of the light and nothing more — before he spoke, his tone even and jovial. “And what can I do to help you then, Anakin? Or have you come as Knight Skywalker? On behalf of the Jedi, perhaps,” he said, not a question. Anakin shook his head in answer regardless.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Jedi, Chancellor, but I am here as a Knight of the Order though I act alone.” He swallowed and carefully, slowly, reached down to his belt where his lightsaber hung, singing to him so faintly at that moment that it could have been miles away. The Chancellor didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, as he pulled the cool, metal casing from its clip and held it, unlit, in the palm of his flesh hand.

“What have you come here for, Knight Skywalker?”

A chill seemed to settle in the air between them that set every nerve in Anakin’s body aflame, alive and electric through his limbs so that he felt even the faint, phantom pain in his prosthetic. He curled his mechanical fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them for a few tense seconds the way he sometimes did before battle, when he worried that very pain might get in the way and cost more of his men their lives. His shoulders strained with the tension creeping into him, and he struggled to keep let it go.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I accuse you of being a Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic.”

The Chancellor laughed like Anakin had told a particularly funny joke, and said: “My boy, I am an old man who has dedicated his life, and a decade already as Chancellor, to the betterment of the Republic. How could I possibly be a-a Sith?” He asked, just the right amount of incredulity saturating the question. “I fear, my boy, that you are tired — this war has taken its toll on us all, and with you needed so often on the front and so firmly in the thick of the worst of it. Well, it hurts, but I’m unsurprised to find even a young man as impressive as you, my friend, might be swayed by this cruel joke under the circumstances.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Anakin snarled, finally losing the firm grip he’d kept on his anger. “I saw you.” The man stilled, thin lips pressed together in a grim line as he sat back in his chair too peer at Anakin like he were a bug. “I saw you,” he said again, breathing heavily, almost panting. “In your office, your private office, just before the 501st shipped out last time. Talking to Dooku.” He spat the name like a curse, filthier than any other word in his vocabulary.

“My boy, whatever you thought you saw—”

“He called you Sidious. He called you Master.” He bared his teeth at the man who’d been his friend, white-knuckled grip on his saber’s hilt tightening almost painfully. “You’ve betrayed the Republic.

“I am the Republic!” Anakin staggered when The Chancellor’s eyes flashed, bright yellow instead of deep brown.

“You’re a traitor,” Anakin bellowed back, finally igniting his lightsaber at his side. “You’ll turn yourself in, or I’ll bring you in myself. It’s my duty as a Jedi,” he said, not at all the confident declaration he’d meant it to be.

“Just as it was your duty to — what was it again? Eschew attachments?” Anakin flinched, but grit his teeth, determined. “My boy, Anakin, please see reason.”

“Reason? What reason? You’re-you’re a Sith!” He widened his stance as the Chancellor finally stood up from behind the desk, leaning forward on his hands against its smooth surface. His gaze burned into Anakin’s, boring in with such intensity he feared the man saw right down to the deepest, most vulnerable parts of him no matter how hard Anakin might try to keep him out. “You were my friend,” he said, nearly a whisper and not at all what he’d meant to.

“I still am.” The Chancellor smiled, but Anakin felt none of the warmth from it that he used to. “I can help you, Anakin. I can help you keep your loved ones safe in these awful times. I can give you the power to keep them safe with your own two hands. Power the Jedi could only dream of.” He paused, eyes gleaming bright and greedy as he said: “I could give you the galaxy.”

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

Rex watched his general putter about the camp, looking more a mess than usual. He seemed not unlike a droid, his every move mechanically rote as he went about his tasks and his gaze distant in that way Rex sometimes saw on shell shocked shinies. He pursed his lips, grip on his bucket tightening a fraction. Their last campaign had been rough: heavy losses and a victory won by the skin of their teeth. He’d seen how it had left the Commander, much as Ahsoka had tried to hide it, and the next one was gearing up to be just as bad or worse if the 212th were held up.

General Skywalker, however, had been worrying him since long before. He didn’t know how much his general thought he was fooling Rex — and it rankled that he might have if not for little moments like this — but he wouldn’t fool anyone if this went on much longer. He’d heard troopers talking, spotting Skywalker up at all hours of the night, amiable enough but also mumbling to himself when he thought no one would see. Rex had done his best to keep the worst of it under wraps: making up reasons for the general’s wandering, erasing the occasional unauthorized flight on his personal junker of a ship, filling in reports that skipped his notice or forging them altogether.

What he couldn’t hide, Rex waved away as a symptom of how busy Jedi generals were in general. Easy to do when the only ones to work consistently closely with them were the Commanders — and Rex, considering he filled the role for the 501st.

He’d considered telling Cody at the very least, if not General Kenobi himself, but he’d put it off. Every time he came across evidence that something was wrong, he’d brushed it off. At first with assurances that the general was just stressed. That he’d course correct on his own and all would go back to how it had been. When it worsened, Rex had asked his general directly, needing to know if whatever had happened would affect his performance — if it would put men’s lives in danger.

Anakin had looked him in the eyes that day and promised he had it handled.

Whatever “it” was.

Rex trusted his general with his life. With his brothers’ lives. So it hurt, a physical pain in his chest, to know his general didn’t trust him enough to let him help. For his general — his friend — he’d do anything, even if it got him decommissioned. Had already, to some extent.

“Captain,” a shiny said, prying his attention away from Skywalker and back to the bustle of setting up camp. “Commander Cody’s on the line for you.”

Rex nodded and shoved his bucket back on his head. He spared one last glance at his general before following the trooper back to the hastily put together command tent, wondering all the way there if this was a sign for him to speak up.

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

Anakin swallowed, mouth dry as the desert planet he’d been born on. The part of him that would always be nine and scared, then nineteen and mourning, found the offer compelling. Power to keep everyone safe: Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex and his men. To have the galaxy fall in line so wars like this one never came about again. To break the chains keeping sentients fettered, abused and terrified. To do what he wanted without the constraints the Jedi imposed upon him and all their members. It appealed so well to that not-insignificant part of him that hated his own fear and weakness and the uncertainty of the future.

It scared him, how enticing the offer was and how tempted he was to forsake everything he knew and everything he’d been taught in exchange for that promise. All that held him back was the single, nagging feeling itching at the back of his skull. He probed at it, poking at what lay below the desire and fear until he found th rest of him — the parts the darkness didn’t call to so strongly.

The parts of him molded by the people he loved, nurtured by what he’d been taught at the Jedi’s feet, and built on the foundations his Mom had laid down for him in his childhood. The parts that whispered to him to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember that nothing so golden, so perfect, came without a cost.

What was the price to be paid for the Chancellor’s offer?

What would he lose in exchange?

Everything, that tiny part of him whispered.

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

Obi-Wan smiled at Ahsoka as she skipped back towards her and Anakin’s troops, all of them nearly finished with the necessary preparations needed to leave this Force-forsaken planet. He watched the troops mingle, chatting and catching up as much as they could. Even his commander had loosened up in the afermath of a hard-won battle, leaned against a crate of supplies as he spoke with Rex.

The only person he hadn’t been able to find in the organized chaos had been his former padawan.

Anakin seemed to have disappeared entirely, not a trace of him anywhere which seemed odd to him. He turned toward Rex and Cody, intent on asking where he might find the wayward knight, only to slow and then stop altogether when he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—know. But it’s … something.” Rex frowned, hands balled into tight fists at his side. Cody sighed.

“If he’s breaking regs,” Cody said archly, but didn’t finish the thought. Rex, in Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, looked rather much like he wanted to punch the other man.

“I’m not turning him in,” Rex hissed, low enough that Obi-Wan had to strain to hear him. “The general’s just … he’s in a bad way right now and I don’t know how to kriffing help if he won’t let me.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, drawing back before he heard Cody’s response. He hadn’t known Anakin had been doing poorly, though in what capacity he wasn’t yet sure. He’d hardly spoken to Anakin at all the last few months, busy as they’d both been. Still, if the captain was so worried, enough to bring it to Cody, then. Well.

He made a mental note to himself to check in on his former padawan. He knew the 501st were due for leave soon, a quick resupply over Coruscant that would give Anakin and Ahsoka both time to visit the Temple. Perhaps after, he’d make the call, or better yet: find some time to get their two battalions together outside of battle.

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

He breathed out, a single slow, measured breath, and set his jaw. When he looked at the Chancellor — at Sidious — his choice had been made. Sidious scowled even before Anakin spoke, wrinkled and severe and not a hint at all of the man he had trusted.

“No.” He brought his saber up into Djem So’s opening stance. “I am a Jedi, and I’ll do what I must.”

“So it’s treason, then,” Sidious sneered, pulling a lightsaber of his own from his robes. Anakin felt the last dregs of his hope drain when the blade lit, its blood-red light casting Sidious’ face into eerie relief as the lights in the room grew suddenly dim.

Anakin nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. He breathed in, taking a brief moment to steel himself as the room’s tension and chill grew bloated and oppressive. For a moment neither of them moved. Coruscant itself seemed to freeze, from every sentient on-planet to its very rotation in space. And then, all at once, life exploded back into action.

Sidious leaped out from behind his desk at the same time Anakin surged forward. Their lightsabers scraped each other mid-air, the barest, buzzing touch as he kept that ominous, red blade from slicing at his shoulder. He spun quickly on his heel to meet Sidious’ offensive attack from behind. Their sabers clashed, properly locked and spitting as each of them tried to over-power the other.

He threw the entirety of his weight into every attack, pressing forward and pushing Sidious back. But nothing landed. Anakin growled, moving faster. Pushing. Pressing. But nothing. Fucking. Landed. Sidious whirled, inelegant but effective. Power bolstered by experience and skill. Every slash blocked. Every thrust parried. Every move economical and calculated and a near perfect counter to Anakin’s own aggressive style.

“You have such potential,” Sidious crooned at him, their sabers locked once again, the energy buzzing and crackling loudly in Anakin’s ears. “You could be so much more than you are, my boy.”

Anakin dug his heels in the carpet and pushed, shoving as much of the Force as he could into it even as the effort left his gasping for breath. Gasping, but victorious when it at least shut the Sith up and sent him sailing across the room if not into the wall like he’d wanted. He grinned at Sidious’ responding glower and merely adjusted his grip on his lightsaber with a shrug. Taunting Dooku’s master as much as he dared.

“Join me, Anakin,” Sidious said, unmoving from where he’d landed and looking somehow unbothered behind the anger radiating from him. “Join me and cease this foolishness.”

“Never,” he hissed, and leaped forward with help from the Force.

They clashed. Separated. Clashed again. Neither gained ground, even as Anakin found himself tiring, slowly but surely. He winced when a glancing blow caught his arm, searing and slicing a neat, shallow line from elbow to shoulder. Anakin managed a nastier slash at the Sith’s legs, and nearly laughed when he caught Sidious’ ankle as he leaped and watched him stagger on the landing.

Fury, thick and startling and like nothing Anakin had felt before even on the front lines, oozed from Sidious then. Anakin, sweating and exhausted, stilled. Tense and suddenly nervous. Something slick and malicious wrapped around his throat, and before he’d even registered that it was the Force — Sidious using the Force — it squeezed, cinched closed and cutting off his air.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Sidious said, sincerity dripping like poison from his words. “I had a plan, you see. A place for you at my side, and. Well, it might be earlier than I’d hoped, but I’m nothing if not accommodating. Don’t you agree?”

“Shut.” Anakin gagged, the invisble vice squeezing ever tighter as the seconds ticked past. “Up.” He fumbled for the Force as dark spots dotted his vision, but felt it slip through his fingers like sand. “Sith.”

Sidious hummed, paced calmly closer to Anakin like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Those were clone troopers out front, and Anakin had paid a slicer more than enough credits in his attempts to gather evidence against Sidious for at least the vague confirmation that they, specifically, could be controlled. He had no doubts, now, that Sidious, among those involved in this conspiracy, could and would do just that.

The Force squeezed a fraction harder — any more and his neck would snap — before easing, just enough for him to gasp, coughing and spluttering as fresh air returned to his burning lungs. He fell to his hands and knees, blinking back tears and the graying haze that had crept into his vision. He barely noticed when Sidious stopped in front of him and bent to pick his lightsaber up off the ground where he didn’t remember dropping it.

“What a tragedy,” Sidious said, laying a withered hand on Anakin’s head like a child needing comfort. He would have tried to bite the old man’s fingers off if he hadn’t still been struggling to catch his breath, just enough pressure still on his throat to keep him from fully recovering. “The disappearance of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear who tried so hard to defend the Republic’s beloved Chancellor from the Separatist assassin, Ventress. Who took off in pursuit when she fled, without backup despite the Chancellor’s pleas — always a hothead, that one.”

“Shut up,” Anakin croaked, pain straining his voice. The hand in his hair tightened, not painfully. Not yet. A warning to keep silent — a warning to be ignored as soon as he could fucking breath again.

“What a shame,” Sidious continued, “how the young man was caught unawares.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped, fear like ice crawling through his veins as the meaning behind Sidious’ monologue finally started to register. He moved and the pressure on his throat worsened in response. He shouldn’t have come. The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have told someone. Should have tried harder to gather evidence against the Chancellor, even though he’d lost sleep over it for months — trying and failing and trying again only to come up empty-handed every time. Sdious was smart and his plan had been in motion probably for longer than Anakin had been alive.

Even if they’d never believe him, he should have told someone.

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

“Padmé.” Anakin said her name like it was the sun itself and he a man without its light all his life.

She smiled, held his face between the palms of her hands, and pulled him down into one of the softest, gentlest kisses they’d shared since the war had started. He practically melted against her, boneless if not quite relaxed. She pulled back first, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she studied his face. He hadn’t looked great the last time they’d talked over a holo, but now he looked worse.

The bags under his eyes were deep, dark smudges that looked like bruises in the dim light of her apartment. He looked drawn, paler than a man on the front lines more often than not should be, with dry, chapped lips and a gauntness to him that might have been as much a trick of the light as the early signs that he’d not been eating well. His hands trembled against her waist, a fine tremor she felt through the thin nightdress he’d caught her in. She hadn’t expected him to come by, not so late at night and certainly not looking half-dead.

“Anakin, what’s wrong? Should I call a healer?” she asked, smoothing a thumb over his lips, his cheek, under his eye. He shook his head, turning so he could kiss her palm. He ran so warm normally that it scared her to feel him so cold. Like death, she thought and it sent a foreboding thrill down her spine.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his bright, blue eyes never leaving hers. She’d have found it romantic if not for how much it scared her just then.

“You’re scaring me, Anakin. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He lifted one hand told hold hers, the same one he’d kissed, and brushed his lips over her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again and Padmé thought she might cry from how wretched he sounded. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Don’t go to work. Stay here.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“Anakin, I can’t just— just skip. There’s an important bill we’re trying to pass and if I’m not there—” He squeezed her hand, not painfully but not gently either, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Anakin?” She moved to touch his face again, but he drew back. She gasped, a quiet, hurt noise pulled from her lips.

“Just tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. Scared. “Just tomorrow, please Angel. Please.” She swallowed, wide eyed and trembling now herself, but nodded.

“Alright. Alright, I promise, but only if you tell me what’s going on. Okay?” He hesitated, but acquiesced.

“After,” he said and she said nothing else before pulling him to bed by the hand.

He curled up beside her, pressed as close as physically possible with his head pressed to her breast as she kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand through his unruly hair. She didn’t know how long they laid there, silent but awake before sleep claimed her. When she woke, he was gone and the place in her bed where he’d lain had gone cold. In his place were a note and a datastick.

I’m Sorry, the note read, written in his slanted, messy cursive. Padmé felt tears prick at her eyes, something thick and awful and nauseating curling in her stomach as she picked the datastick up and moved to plug it into the datapad she kept on her nightstand.

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

He closed his eyes, let the pang of regret flow down and into him, then, finally, out. It came so suddenly easy, feeling what he needed before letting go, that he wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. All his time as a Jedi he’d struggled, and he chose this moment to finally embrace — understand — what it was they’d been trying to teach him all along.

“Get to the point,” he said, trying to sound brave and not like he could fall apart at any second. The hand in his hair pulled, jerked his head up so he could look at those ugly, Sith eyes and Sidious’ grotesque grin. He’d spit if he could, but the Force tightened on his throat like Sidious had plucked the thought from his mind.

“The point,” the Sith hissed, “is that I will not waste the years I spent molding my perfect Apprentice.” Sidious crooned the word like it should mean more to Anakin. Like it shouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. “There is a place for you at my side, boy, whether you are there willingly or not.”

Sidious let him go, so suddenly he nearly fell on his face. Anakin blinked, confused as he pushed himself up, and caught the edge of that same, awful grin. Saw Sidious raise a hand, fingers splayed and pointing at him, and then nothing at all as he crackle of electricity and his own screaming filled the room.

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

Mace’s head throbbed, the same pounding pain that had lingered in his temples for months now. A shatterpoint, he knew, but any specific knowledge about it had remained firmly out of reach. Regardless of his headache — he’d had long years of practice managing it — he strolled into the Council’s Chambers, calm as a Jedi Master should be despite the urgency of the emergency meeting called. Problems, it seemed, just loved to pile up. First, an attack on the Chancellor in his own office the week before, then the disappearance of Knight Skywalker, and now whatever new event had cropped up.

He sighed, taking his seat among the mix of present Councilors. All of them, he was surprised to note, though most had called in via holo. Once he’d been seated, the room quieted and every eye turned to Master Yoda who’d called them together. The old troll’s face looked grim, his ears drooped as he all but hunched over his gimmer stick. Slick, icy dread slithered down Mace’s spine, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever the old Master had to say.

“Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s voice, mildly tinny over the holo, broke the silence when Master Yoda failed to speak up. The old Master seemed to wilt even further.

“Received a recording, we did, from Dooku.” Every Jedi in the room jerked, though none looked more than serenly alarmed at the news. “A datapad, he sent, early this morning. And another a gift.” Yoda’s voice wavered on the last word, just enough to be noticeable.

“May we see the device?” Plo Koon tipped his head to one side as he asked the question, a request made more for Yoda’s benefit than because any of them had any real need to see Dooku’s message for themselves.

Yoda shook his head and said: “With the investiators, it is. Work, they will, to see if a trick this is not. Deceiving us, Dooku may be.”

“Deceiving us?” Master Kolar leaned forward in his seat, a frown marring his features. Master Yoda nodded.

“Bring news, he does, of our missing knight.” Mace saw Kenobi jolt at the statement, wide-eyed. His fellow councilor had been devastated at the news of his former padawan’s disappearance. A few of the other Master’s spared Kenobi a sympathetic glance, before returning their attention to Master Yoda. “Claim, he does, that Knight Skywalker’s death his assassin, Ventress, is responsible for. Chased, he says she was, after thwarting an attempt on the Chancellor by young Skywalker she was.”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started, voice strangled. Mace frowned, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers as he closed his eyes. “Anakin has fought Ventress many times, and come out unscathed before. To claim she killed him…” he trailed off.

“A gift, Dooku sent as well,” Yoda reminded.

The earlier chill in Mace’s spine solidified into a pit behind his stomach, a near physical weight as he said, low and pained: “Proof.”

The room was silent. Still. Their combined dread and anticipation thickened the air until it grew hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

Mace opened his eyes. He looked first to Obi-Wan, lips thinned but otherwise wearing a perfectly blank mask, and then to Master Yoda’s own grief-stricken face.

“His prosthetic and saber I have kept here to show you, but the rest. To the Healers for tests it has gone.”

“Healers?” Obi-Wan’s blank facade cracked. Mace was sure Obi-Wan’s face would have been pale as a sheet if not for the blue-tint of he holo-image projected onto his chair. Yoda said nothing for a long time, though Mace didn’t know if it was reluctance or grief that stalled him. “Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Mace felt sympathetic tears prick at his eyes for all the grief he could hear in that word alone. “Please.”

“Fingers,” Yoda said, grave and bland and disgusted. “Knight Skywalker’s, the Healers confirmed not long ago.”

Mace heard a few of the Masters’ gasp, and Obi-Wan’s own strangled, horrified noise, but Mace kept silent. Let his eyes slip closed once more, and bowed his head as a wave of bitter grief swept over him.

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

Anakin never woke for long, but when he did there were always two constants: pain and Sidious.

And hope. Always hope.

That Padmé had read what he’d left on the datastick — not enough but a start, and she’d always been so much smarter than him — and forgave him for the lie. For leaving.

Hope that Sidious would choke on his food and die, even if it meant Anakin rotted away in this cell.

Hope that the apologies he’d written to Ahsoka, Rex, and Obi-Wan made it to them, even if he hadn’t included half as much information in them as he had in his Angel’s.

And hope that maybe, one day, he might be saved. That Sidious’ attempt to deceive everyone would, at least this once, fail.

“How much longer will you remain disobedient, my Apprentice,” Sidious said as he slipped into the cell. Anakin closed his eyes for only a brief moment before turning a glare on his captor.

“Dunno,” he croaked, “how much longer ‘r you gonna live?”

Sidious hissed and repaid him with a blast of lightning in response.

Anakin screamed.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayal #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #fic #violence #implied torture #fake death #loss of limbs #my fanfic #the only limbs lost are fingers and it's only mentioned not shown

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Written in the Stars (Lucifer x Angel!Reader)

Four thousand years is a long time. In the absence of your most cherished friend, it feels even longer. But when a certain student exchange program in the Devildom reunites you and Lucifer, things aren't the same. Because four thousand years of separation is a long time. And the love you once felt for Lucifer has changed into something different—something forbidden. But that might not even be your biggest problem, because with each passing day, your holy wings are turning blacker and blacker.

MASTERLIST

The weight around your shoulders is unnatural.

You shift the fabric as you stand, gently pushing it back while fiddling with the golden clasp that keeps the thick, Celestial silk wrapped around your body, before forcing yourself to stop. It had been Simeon who had helped you put it on this morning. For good reason, too—the angel is blessed with a surprising degree of lean muscle and strength—but where he could easily carry the cape and drape it around your body, you can barely lift the thing.

It's heavy for a reason, he had told you when helping you wear it. We can't stay in our angel forms at the Academy, so the High Seraphs said that this will help remind us of the weight of our wings.

And while the fabric is definitely as heavy as your wings, it does no justice to the true feel of your snowy feathers, a poor simulation of the holy pinions.

You sigh, pressing your hands against the closest object to stabilize your body, wishing that you could bring your wings out to do so. You'd begged to come here, begged and cried and pleaded with the High Seraphs to give you the chance to see Lucifer one last time before eternally returning to the Celestial Realm, and they'd warned you that the experience wouldn't be pleasant. That you'd be forced to take this unorthodox human form, deprived of your wings and halo, surrounded by demons and the unbearable heat of the Devildom.

But you hadn't faltered then, and you certainly won't falter now.

It's for Lucifer, right? You'd do anything for Lucifer.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hold your body steady by gripping the tall, wooden chair that Diavolo had been sitting in when he'd greeted the three of you.

"Welcome to the Devildom!" He'd exclaimed enthusiastically, a grin so wide stretched across his face that you couldn't help but offer your own smile in return. The man had been nothing but pleasant when introducing himself to you. Each word, he spoke with purpose. His tone bordered on intimidating when he declared his own titles—proudly naming himself Lord Diavolo, overseer of the nine circles of hell, heir to the Devildom, prince of the abyss—but he immediately expressed what a pleasure it was to meet your acquaintance, honorably referring to you all with your own titles. Again, with purpose. His formality was to remind you that you're all just as important to your realms as he is to his. Just as crucial, powerful, and strong.

"Luke," He had proclaimed with a smile, his grin almost proud as he gazed upon the youngest of you three. "Child of Chamuel, heir to the twelfth Holy Protectorate." He'd then turned to your best friend, the oldest of the group: "Simeon: child of Selaphiel, defender of the High Seraphs." And last, but absolutely not the least, he had faced you. "MC: child of light, equalizer of the Celestial Realm."

The man had proceeded to shower you all with gifts, casually instructing his butler to have the larger presents delivered to Purgatory Hall, the location of your year-long stay. He'd offered to give you all a tour of the Devildom, looking almost eager as he began leading you out the door—but he hesitated at the last minute.

"Ah, MC." His eyes watched you carefully as he spoke, waiting to see your reaction. "If you don't mind, would you be alright with staying here? Lucifer explicitly requested that he be the one to greet and show you around, though it's entirely understandable if you should wish to remain with the group for—"

"Not at all!" You'd exclaimed immediately, excitement flooding your veins at the mention of the man who's been dominating your thoughts for the past four thousand years. Diavolo's relief was apparent at your immediate acceptance of his offer, and you almost had to laugh.

Had he been concerned that you wouldn't want to be alone with Lucifer? Surely he's heard all the stories about the Morningstar of light and the equalizer of the heavens. Did he think your feelings for Lucifer would have changed after his fall? You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. For all the stories and songs written about the two of you, people never seem to understand the true depth of your love for Lucifer.

Then again, the written history has never done a good job at portraying truth, has it?

You sigh, turning your head to stare out the windows of the room. This is the Student Council Office, you know. Small wonder. It has a marvelous view of the entire RAD campus, and really, you don't think you'll have the full map memorized even after you've spent a year here.

You smile, eyes skirting over the immense campus.

You, Simeon, and Luke had arrived in the Devildom just as the sun was beginning to make its journey back under the horizon; by now, the sun has almost completely set. Still, the remnants of its illumination light up the various fountains and statues littered around the campus. There are eight buildings set up for classroom use, nine buildings in total—likely modeled after the nine circles of hell—and each is connected by a modernistic sidewalk three wingspans wide. Every intersection is marked by a different ornamental tablet, engraved with what you can only assume is Devildom history, and the last remaining rays of sunlight jump off the various metals like fiery dancers of dusk. There's a large field in the distance, where you see six demons playing some sport you don't recognize, and you'd stare even longer at the strange forest in the background if not for the sound of a door opening behind you.

You freeze.

All of a sudden, you wish you hadn't been staring out at the window but at the door instead, because your body is stiller than the statues you'd been admiring outside, unwilling to move an inch.

Fingers tensing around the chair you'd been casually gripping, you feel your throat bob as you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

It's the moment you've been waiting for.

There's no doubt about it: you can feel it in the shift of the darkness in the room, in the subtle scent of the cologne that after all these years he's still wearing, in the quiet but sharp breath he takes that you were once so used to hearing.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you turn your head, preparing yourself for what you've been waiting four thousand years for.

Your head moves slowly, impossibly slow. You can't bring it to turn any faster, even though all you want to do is see the man you've spent so long yearning for.

And then you do.

A strangled gasp leaves you throat as all your breath deserts you, the man looking as magnificent and glorious and breathtaking as he did the last time you saw him. You stare into his eyes, two red rubies that shine not with holiness or darkness or anything but love as they gaze back at you, and then whatever restraint you had vanishes, and you're throwing yourself into Lucifer's arms: crying, whimpering, sobbing as you embrace him the way you've wanted to for so long.

"MC," he murmurs softly, his own voice thick with emotion as he lifts you, spinning you around gracefully as he used to so long ago. "What's this?" He asks, gaze traveling to the golden clasp that keeps the dense cape wrapped around your shoulders, wordlessly unclasping it.

And as the Celestial silk falls, so do the last of your inhibitions, leaving you truly weightless in Lucifer's arms as he holds you tighter, fingers running through your hair the way he used to.

You know he's fallen now, a demon, but nothing about him seems different. His embrace is still comforting as he holds you, his hands still rub small circles into your back, he still presses weightless kisses to your forehead as he holds you. Angel or demon, he's still the Lucifer that raised you, the Lucifer that taught you everything you know. He's still Lucifer.

"I missed you," You whisper, well aware that he can feel your tears as you bury your head in his neck. "So much."

"I know," He murmurs back, his voice carrying the rare softness that he only unveils for you. "I've missed you too."

The two of you remain like that for far longer than is necessary, simply basking in the blissful feeling of being together until even the sun has gone down, knowing that its warmth is unnecessary now that the two of you have each other.

Even when Lucifer finally begins to pull away, you let out a reluctant whine. You've been deprived of his company for four thousand years, surely he can give you one more minute?

"Don't look at me like that," He says, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Come. Don't you want a tour of the campus? You'll be staying here the entire year, after all."

You grudgingly agree, removing yourself from Lucifer's arms while staring at the fabric on the ground. Now that it's off your shoulders, you certainly do feel much more free—but Simeon was absolutely right. No matter how heavy the fabric was, it really did remind you of your wings. You feel naked without it.

Lowering your body to the ground, you summon all of your strength in an attempt to lift the thick cloth up, trying your best to raise it higher than a foot off the ground. Next to you, Lucifer lets out an audible laugh as he watches you struggle until, finally, you collapse to the ground. "I give up," You mumble, light pants escaping your lips. Your muscles genuinely ache as you look up at your old friend, a defeated expression cast on your face.

"Celestial silk, is it?" Lucifer crouches, lifting the fabric. "Even heavier than I remember, but still manageable." He smiles lightly as he finds the clasps, fingers deftly hooking the golden fasteners in place until the cape is secured around your body once more.

It's a comfortable motion for you, and familiar, too. When Lucifer was still with you in the Celestial Realm, he had taken it upon himself to be your guardian—understandable, given the nature of your birth—and had practically raised you himself. It was Lucifer, who whispered stories to you every night until you slept. Lucifer, who taught you how to cook and bathe and read. Lucifer, who would help you dress in the mornings, while you blankly sat on the floor, just as you're doing now.

"Why are you wearing something so heavy? I doubt you can even stand straight for long, when this weighs as much as you." The demon's expression is intrigued as he pinches the fabric between his gloved fingers.

"It's not just me. Simeon is wearing the same thing. His cloak is even longer, actually, and heavier, too. And it's really bothersome, but without this, it just feels so unnatural to be in this form. At least, with this around my shoulders, it feels like I still sort of have my wings."

Lucifer nods. "That's smart. I think that was the hardest adjustment after the fall. It took me a while to figure out how to walk normally, without my wings weighing me back. Even in my demon form, I..." He trails off, a dark look cast on his face. You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue, but he says nothing.

"Lucifer?" You ask, bringing a hand to his cheek, gently angling his face back toward you. "After the Great Celestial War and your fall, I heard...the messengers would say..." You swallow, realizing that beating around the bush isn't going to help either of you right now. "They said you lost your wings."

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, and the shocked response is enough to tell you that the rumors were false. But then the demon's gaze darkens once more, and you can't figure out what's going on in his head.

When he next speaks, his voice is soft, quiet enough to be lost in the sound of your own breathing, if you're not careful. "If I show you my true form, will it scare you?"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

His true form. His demon form.

Against your will, the image of Lucifer's angel form flashes through your mind—the image you'd cut out from your history textbook, before anyone could take it away. A time when Lucifer's pride had been given to him by the realm, rather than stemming from within him. When he had six divine wings and the Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. Dressed in full white garb, every fine detail outlined in rubies and gold, you've never stopped picturing that Lucifer as the true Lucifer in your mind.

But times have changed.

Four thousand years have passed, and the Lucifer who dressed in white is no longer a reality.

"Show me," You whisper, voice earnest.

Closing his eyes, it takes barely a second for Lucifer's darkness to manifest, the black wings curling around his frame and the familiar Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. But only after a second look do you realize that neither are quite the same—the six wings you're used to seeing being reduced to four, and the mark on Lucifer's forehead something twisted, something unholy, no longer shining with light: a small diamond of skin blackened with the retraction of whatever blessing was once laid upon his fair head.

"Lucifer..." You whisper, unable to say anything other than his name. "You're beautiful."

The demon's eyes, once dropped to the floor, look up at you in surprise, evidently not expecting to hear that of all things. Indeed, the light favored Lucifer brilliantly, but the darkness brings out a different side of the man: unfamiliar, strange, and foreign—but undeniably beautiful, in its own right.

Before he can say a word against you, you wrap him in another embrace, this time letting your hands run along his wings, savoring the sensation. Their color may have changed, but they're just as soft as you remember, each feather delicate and majestic. You allow your hands to trail all the way to where they meet at Lucifer's back, hesitating before running your hands along the small strip in between the four wings.

A shudder travels through Lucifer as your fingertips graze the spot. "Don't—don't—"

You calmly move your hands, sliding them back into the wings you love, understanding that you must have been touching the location where Lucifer's two center wings were ripped out during his fall. The sheer thought is painful enough; you can't begin to imagine how awful it must have been.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you," You murmur into Lucifer's ear, kissing the black diamond on his forehead. His body trembles once more, but he welcomes your touch, gripping your shoulders tightly even as he slowly shifts back to his human form. It's a long time before he speaks, but when he does, he's composed once more.

"Don't be. I was relieved that the High Seraphs had the sense to keep you locked away during the Great Celestial War. You would have done something foolish, like get yourself banished with me." You don't respond, knowing all too well that you'd entertained the thought numerous times. "Come," Lucifer murmurs, finally standing up. "It's time I gave you the tour I promised."

You nod your head, attempting to stand up. Key word: attempting. Your silk cloak drags you back down before you can even straighten your legs, causing you to collapse rather ungraciously on the floor.

"How did even manage to put this on in the morning?" Lucifer asks, shaking his head as he bends down and lifts you to your feet. "You can barely stand properly. Did you enchant it with a spell or some such?"

"Not exactly. I still struggle a bit when it comes to object enchantments." You hide a faint blush, sheepishly glancing away. "Simeon helped me dress this morning."

You glance up at Lucifer, only to see him averting his eyes, a strange expression wrapped around his face. You don't recognize the look, but before you can ask Lucifer about it, he's speaking: "I see. That much is unsurprising, I suppose." His voice is calm and controlled, but from his face, you can tell that it's taking all his effort to do so. He feigns a sense of casualness, not meeting your eyes. "There have been rumors in the Devildom about you and Simeon. That the equalizer of the Celestial Realm and the defender of the High Seraphs are...involved." You don't comment, but Lucifer almost seems to choke on that last word. Still, you let the man continue, watching as his steady voice wavers. "I suppose the rumors are true?"

Your lips twitch in amusement.

Is it jealousy that's casting Lucifer's face into this unappealing frown, the demon desperately trying to conceal his distaste but failing so miserably? You're unable to stop a brief sound of laughter from escaping your lips, a quick shake of your shoulders, but Lucifer catches it.

"What. What? What?" His voice is sharp, irritated as he gives you his usual glare, one that you've missed all too much.

"Simeon and I are friends," You tell him, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Nothing more, Lucifer. There's no need to be jealous."

"I am not jealous," The demon hisses, eyebrows fuddling together in a demonstration meant to be intimidating, but you only find it cute.

"Relax!" You exclaim, consciously stopping yourself from squealing with merriment. "I was only teasing. I would never involve myself with another man—didn't I promise you that I would get your approval before doing so?"

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, as if he'd long forgotten that exchange. But his next words reveal that his thoughts were quite the opposite: "I didn't realize you had any recollection of that promise."

"How could I forget?" You ask, the memory clear in your mind even to this day.

"It's just..." Lucifer sighs softly, his eyes dropping to your hair, where he brushes a strand of the (h/c) behind your ear. "You were only a child when you said it."

"A child? Lucifer, I grew up in a literal hour," You argue, recalling how the High Seraphs had described you being born as a baby and then having turned into a young woman before they'd even had the chance to give you a name. It's angel stuff—not wholly unheard of, since Lucifer's birth was somewhat the same, but definitely not the most common thing out there. Then again, nothing about the story of your birth is common.

"Yes, but you'd only been in the realm for three days. You might have looked older, but you were young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, foolish enough to make such a preposterous promise." Lucifer chuckles, crossing his arms as he remembers your youth. "I do hope that you haven't been denying your heart on my account? As long as the suitor makes you happy, I would support any union you might partake in."

"I know, Lucifer." You smile up at the man. He may be a demon now, but inside, he's still the man you adore. You press a delicate kiss to his cheek. "When I made that promise to you, you told me the same thing."

***

Lucifer had promised Diavolo that he would handle your student tour of the RAD, that he would show you all the prettiest fountains and loveliest statues and best restaurants. And when he'd assured his prince of such a thing, he had been sincere.

But as he leads you out of the student council building, there's really only one thing he deems of immediate importance: how to get to the House of Lamentation from your residence in Purgatory Hall. Doubtless, he'll ensure that he's there to accompany you the first few times, but as he makes the walk with you, he can't help but feel a familiar sense of worry bubble in his stomach.

A part of him still can't believe that it's been four thousand years since he last saw you.

You've barely changed.

Your smile is still just as bright, your hands are just as soft, your hair dances in the wind the exact same way—but there are subtle differences, too. Lucifer swallows as he notes the womanly shape that you've taken on over the centuries, the small of your waist, the curve of your hips, the tantalizing dip of your collarbone.

The demon is unable to take his eyes off you, desperately wondering who in heaven designed your uniform. Diavolo had decided not to force the standard RAD uniform on any of the exchange students, and for good reason. The Devildom is too close to hell, and unbearably hot for anyone that isn't already used to its temperature.

But Lucifer had still expected the angels to be wearing somewhat modest clothes. He'd assumed that they'd arrive in angel attire, the garb simply enchanted with spells to resist the heat. Not these outfits that resemble the strippers he's seen in Asmo's clubs!

His eyes are glued to the thin mesh fabric covering your shoulders. It does an awful job of concealing skin. In fact, it only draws more attention to your upper body and—really—does the outfit have to be sleeveless? And is it truly necessary for the sides of your waist to be exposed?

Lucifer exhales lightly, his jaw tensing. None of his brothers would dare try anything inappropriate with you, you're too precious to them for that, and he'd do his best to shield you from the lustful eyes of his peers. But even then, how long would Lucifer be able to protect you from himself?

He forces himself to look away from your body, knowing that he would kill a lesser demon for the very thoughts reverberating through his own mind.

It's ridiculous that he even feels this way, he reasons with himself. He's practically your older brother. He knows you think of him as such. So why is he looking at you like a woman, when he should be looking at you as a sister?

Off limits. Lucifer scowls, staring forward as he drills the word into his mind. Off limits. MC is off limits. MC is off limits!

But the more he tries to ignore you, the more he's drawn to you, to the light sway of your hips as you move, to the elegant grace you've cultivated over the years, the dazzling smile that he can only describe as enchanting, where it had once been cute and endearing.

Is it because he's a demon, that he feels this way around you? Because it's now in his nature to give in to temptation, where it had once been in his blood to resist? The thought weighs heavily on his mind, because that means that it would be impossible for you to ever feel the same way about him. And as much as Lucifer hates himself for thinking it, that prospect seems to be even worse than the notion of you being foolish enough reciprocate his feelings.

"Lucifer?"

The demon halts his thoughts, staring at you in surprise. "I'm sorry, MC. My mind was elsewhere. What were you saying?"

He watches you giggle, an action he's seen you do thousands of times, but it's never made him feel such a strong urge to wrap his arms around you and hide you away from everyone else.

"I was talking about your youngest brother. Though I think he's been named the fourth-born? I'm talking about Satan. I know he was born a little before the Great Celestial War began, but the High Seraphs isolated me immediately after, so I still haven't met him. Do you think he'll like me?"

Lucifer blinks. You've certainly grown, but you've still retained your angelic innocence. "Don't be ridiculous," He murmurs quietly. "How could anyone not like you?"

The beaming smile you give Lucifer is worth the agitation he feels when he realizes how smitten he is with you.

You're off limits, he tells himself once more. Off limits.

Just as he will not allow any other demons to lay a hand on you, he will not allow himself to touch you.

"MC?" He asks, eyes glued to your exposed shoulders, all too aware of how it's only furthering the temptation within him. When you turn to him, a questioning gaze on your face, it's all he can do to take off his coat without letting his embarrassment show on his face. "It's cold." It's not. "Wear my jacket for the time being."

Wordlessly, he helps you slip it onto your shoulders, lifting the Celestial silk for you and then unclasping it altogether, not failing to notice the blissful sigh you give as he takes the weight into his own arms, allowing you to freely slip into his jacket.

He breathes a sigh of relief when you continue talking, the demon finally eased of the tempting sight of your exposed body. He turns back to you, hoping to listen to whatever subject you're currently ranting so passionately about.

And fails.

Even with his jacket wrapped around you, Lucifer finds that his gaze is just as hungry as before, only further stemmed along by the sight of you in his clothes, your smaller figure entirely enveloped by his jacket.

By his side, Lucifer's hand clenches into a fist.

Thou shalt not covet, he tells himself, the words still engraved on his heart after all these years. Thou shalt not covet. But staring at you, talking so animatedly next to him, so comfortable and trusting by his side, he can't stop.

No matter how many times the words echo in his mind, they fall short of his heart.

He covets.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: And that's the first chapter of this series :D Just so you guys know, I currently plan to update this work on Tuesdays and Saturdays - and based on my current drafts, this whole thing will be either 8 or 9 chapters, so not too long! I hope that you enjoy this - things start to get real in the next chapter <3 Expect a slight slow burn? Ngl, I've done more planning than usual for this fic, but this project is also bigger than I'm used to taking on - regardless, I'll do my best to make sure that the content I give you guys is my best effort :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/23/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Note

could you please do a mafia reaction of finding out that the girl they have a crush on is leading a mafia? thank you!

❥ kim hongjoong

hongjoong knew the second he met you that you were strong, watching as you elbowed a guy right in the face who tried to grab you outside the sleazy looking bar. it’s what first drew him to you, what made him approach you later that night and confess that even though you scared the shit out of him, he liked you.

you couldn’t help but laugh at him, throwing a smirk his way as you wrote your number on a piece of paper and stuck it in the pocket of his shirt. date number one turned in to date number four and when you so casually mentioned what you do for work, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“are-are you even allowed to tell me that?” he stuttered, a melodic laugh leaving your mouth that scared him as much as it intrigued him; drew him in like he just knew he was more than willing to allow you to ruin him if that’s what you wanted to do.

“something tells me you’re not gonna tell anyone.” your foot ran along the expanse of his leg, swirling your tongue around the straw as you watched an amused, almost proud smile cross his face.

❥ park seonghwa

“i don’t like it, y/n.”

the second seonghwa found out you were leading a mafia, the change in him was immediate. he was overprotective by normal standards, just in day to day life whether it be making sure you were wearing your seatbelt or texting him when you got home safely at night.

but this. knowing you were out in the world fighting and conniving and meeting with dangerous people? he couldn’t stand it. he said he would never let you out of his sight again, that he’d accompany you on any and all missions to ensure your safety; and even when you told him the wasn’t necessary, the stubborn boy shook his head and narrowed his eyes at you.

you thought it was cute that he thought he had a say in the matter, though, pushing him backward until his knees hit the back of the chair. he looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his adams apple bobbing as you straddled his lap and ran your finger over his lips.

“well you better start to,” you whispered in his ear, your breath fanning across his skin as you arch your back and press yourself against him. “because you don’t really have a choice, do you?”

❥ jeong yunho

“i’m telling you, she’s into some crazy shit,” mingi tells him, the two giant boys watching you from the car. you had went in to pick up the chicken order, $100 in hand as you fearlessly walked in the store.

“what are you talking about?” yunho asked, shaking his head at his friend’s nonsense. he knows he’s had a crush on you for weeks, insisting that while you’re pretty and nice there's also something… mysterious about you. the way you carry yourself and always look so constantly on edge. like you’re about ready to-

“what the fuck!”

mingi and yunho jump out of the car when they see the commotion through the windows, a man probably taller than them jumping away from you and over the seat of a table. but you’re quick to grab him by the back of the shirt and flip him over your shoulder, his back on the floor as your boot-covered foot press down on his neck.

they walk in and hear you on the phone, your voice commanding that the target was found and to get here immediately. your eyes widen when you see the two boys staring at you, a small smile replacing your face before you casually hold up the bag of chicken.

“i got it!” you smile, your sing song voice such a horrifying contrast to the way your high heel is digging into a man’s neck.

❥ kang yeosang

you and yeosang couldn’t be more different, even down to the way you like your coffee and what ice cream flavors you like. you’d been drawn to him because he was shy and withdrawn and he admired you because you were confident and outgoing. it took him two weeks just to to gain the courage to smile at you, every time he caught your gaze looking away in embarrassment.

“i think i should probably tell you what i do,” you told him one night, your legs sprawled out across his lap as you toy with his fingers.

he didn’t even understand it at first, his head cocked to the side as he nodded his head in confusion. but it wasn’t until he saw you in action that he really understood, your body hunched over the desk as you screamed into the phone about a particular job. his eyes widened when he sees you tuck a gun in the back of your tight jeans, wondering where the hell the weapon had even came from.

“what the- y/n, where did you get-”

“i’ll be back in a bit,” you tell him, walking over and pressing up on your toes to peck his lips. it was the first time you kissed him and he couldn’t even dwell on that fact, all too distracted and concerned by the way you sauntered out of the room with a determined, powerful stride.

❥ choi san

he was always curious about the girl he’d see in the gym, your figure small and face kind but the way you worked out and lifted the bar above your head impressive. he tried not to stare, hating to be that creepy guy in the gym but not being able to help but admire your stamina and work ethic.

but it was when he saw you through the glass at a kickboxing class that he knew he had to talk to, almost as petrified as he was impressed because you really look like you could beat the shit out of someone.

“i was honestly scared of you,” san told you a few months later over coffee, your head thrown back in laughter as you smirk at him. “good,” you tell him with a sweet, teasing smile. “you should be.”

he had laughed and took your words as a joke, his heart fluttering the more you talk and laugh with him. but then a few weeks later when he found out you were in fact someone to be scared of, something so sweet and pretty wrapped up in mafia business, as a leader no less, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“you…weren’t kidding,” he stuttered out, “i should be scared of you.” but you couldn’t help but smile up at the sweet boy you’ve come to really like after these past few months, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cock your head to the side at him.

“only if you fuck with me.”

❥ song mingi

you hadn’t met for him to find out this way. you wanted to ease him in to it, knowing that even though your friend turned crush was big and looming and looked threatening, he was anything but; at a first glance, you thought he’d be a great addition to your team. but then you saw just how much he cuddled into people, how he couldn’t even watch a scary movie or go through a cheesy haunted house without screaming.

so seeing you outside your house, two bloodied men at your feet with a knife steady in your hand, you thought for sure he was gonna pass out.

“y/n….y/n, what the…did you do that…i-“

“mingi, it’s okay,” you tell him softly, like you’re talking to a child who just walked in on there favorite animal who got ripped up by the family dog. “they were bad people. i had to do this.”

he watches you with slight fear in his eyes, watching as you bend down and use the man’s shirt to wipe the blood off the knife. the sight only makes him ready to vomit, in disbelief that you, the girl who giggles with him under the blanket as your cold feet tangle, are so callously using a dead men’s shirt to clean off his own blood.

“what? don’t tell me you’re scared of me now.”

❥ jung wooyoung

you had done countless things to get wooyoung to shut his mouth in the months you’ve known him. covering his ace with your hand, offering to pay him $5 to not talk through one single thirty minute episode, bribing him with food and dessert and anything edible in the house really.

but when he found out from another loud mouthed friend of his that you were the leader of a mafia, you’d never seen the boy so quiet. he didn’t necessarily look scared or upset, just…curious.

“so you like…kill people?”

you chuckle at the question, walking over to him and plopping down on his lap the way you’ve done many times before. “bad people. people who deserve it.” he hums thoughtfully a your answer, his arms circling around your hips hesitantly as he takes in this information.

“and sometimes,” he hears you say suddenly, puling his shirt down and smirking against his ear. “people who never know when to shut their mouth. but they’re only in excruciating pain for a few weeks, i would never kill them.”

he moves his head back to look at you, not being able to tell if the teasing in your eyes and voice is a complete joke or not; so he thinks that maybe, the next time you ask him to stay quiet during your show, he’ll find that the television is extremely interesting and warrants all of his attention.

❥ choi jongho

the boy didn’t know who he worked for.

he just knew they were powerful, extremely cunning and someone no one wanted to mess with. but he saw you come out of the vip office several times as he stood guard outside, greeting each other with soft smiles before you eventually started to talk.

it was small talk really, just about weekend plans and the weather and coworkers but it was enough for him to grow a tiny crush on you. he wondered what your purpose here was, looking far too sweet and unassuming to be associated with this shady place.

“you better be careful,” one of his co-workers said. he had been watching you and jongho grow closer each week, his happy smile and kind, round eyes softening every single time he saw you.

“what do you mean?”

and when the man started to laugh, jongho became even more confused. be careful of you? of forming a crush on a coworker? of mixing business and pleasure?

“you really don’t know who that is?” the man asked, both of their heads craning over to you on the phone, a sadistic smirk on your face as you roll your eyes at whoever’s talking on the phone. “her crazy ass is probably putting a hit out right now, she’s the leader of this shit.”

jongho nearly fell on his ass at this information, your eyes meeting his and eyebrows raising up. “surprised?” you mouth, the boy’s eyes widening and heart racing because he did not expect that.

#💌#request #ateez #ateez reactions

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ashestoashesjc · 4 years

Text

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend Take A Hike

Short Story 1/2/3/(4)/5/6/7/8/9/10

Relax. Relax. Inhale, exhale; you know the routine. This isn’t the first time you and Sett have been alone with unsuspecting humans. Just the first time where the goal has been for everyone to leave as alive as when they arrived. Simple.

Jen had texted the directions to The Goovenmeyer Hiking Trail, a public entrance to Goovenmeyer Forest, days before the planned excursion was to take place, and so Ulrick had just as much time with which to let his irrational worries ferment.

In the logical portion of his elixir and glyph-addled mind, Ulrick knew there was nothing to worry about. That forming normal, healthy friendships was good for Sett. Good for both of them. But a nagging splinter dug at a place he couldn’t reach.

He tried to disguise his busy hive of thoughts, but Sett, of course, caught on to the minuscule valley made from his dipping eyebrows, the tightness of a face steeped in sullen contemplation.

"You seem stressed,” Sett signed, retrieving a sealed, plastic package from his bomber jacket. “Beef jerky?"

"Where'd you get beef jerky?" asked Ulrick. He took a short pause. "And you don't eat?"

"Yeah, I know," Sett signed. "It's more for the atmosphere."

Sett stabbed one of the leathery sticks at his masked mouth, but seeing it fail to improve Ulrick’s mood, returned it to its pouch and put an arm around his shoulder.

“Really, what’s up?” signed Sett with his available hand.

“It’s stupid.”

“It never is.”

Ulrick let out a rolling sigh. He stood from their seat at the bench and paced about the entrance of the hiking trail. “Supermarkets in the dead of night, deserted movie theaters, dates on moonlit rooftops. I did those things to protect us, yes, but it was also because…” He looked to Ulrick. “I like when it’s just the two of us. I’m selfish that way.”

The mask covered Sett’s face, but Ulrick could imagine the goofy, tilted grin underneath from the light shining in his eyes. It urged half a smile out of him before his paranoia could steal back its throne.

“That’s changing now, and that’s fine, and I’m happy for you. But a small part of me can’t help but wonder…”

“Wonder...?” “What would they do if they knew?”

“Knew what?” came a familiar voice from behind them, where a small parking area accommodated an RV, the boys’ rusted red jalopy, and a newly arrived blue sedan.

It was Jen, followed closely by a backpack-lugging Diane, looking equally curious.

"That..." started Ulrick, feeling the vacuum of space closing in around him, sucking the air from his lungs.

"That we've never been hiking before,” Sett cut in with lightspeed fingerwork. “Didn't want you to look down on us rookies."

Ulrick could not have managed to look at Sett with more gratitude. "Cat's out of the bag, I guess."

"Ha! Don't you pink bellies worry about that. Everyone's a first timer once,” chortled Diane.

“Yeah, except you, Di. You were born an outdoorswoman.”

Exaggerating a shocked expression, Diane said, “That ain’t true! I was born a Led Zeppelin fan, and everything else has been window dressing.”

Then Jen snorted, not dissimilarly to the way Diane had when the four had met. Ulrick wondered who’d picked it up from whom.

“Well!” Jen said, clapping her hands together. “Di might have a compass for a brain, but I have something just as good.” She reached into a pocket of her explorer shorts and brought out a smartphone, plastered in psychedelic peace-symbol stickers. “A compass on my cell phone.”

“And I’ve read about a few sights off the beaten path that we’ve just got to check out,” she said. “Y’know, time permitting.”

“Oh yeah, wandering blindly into the unfamiliar wilderness. That’s never gotten anyone brutally murdered,” scoffed Ulrick.

Jen suddenly placed her hands on Ulrick’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes, her voice silvery and therapeutic. “I see you, I hear you, I feel you,” she said, each emphasized syllable accompanied by a gentle shoulder clap.

A stammered “Uh…” was the only response Ulrick could muster.

Turning back to the trail ahead, she began marching. “And we’re off!”

Irregular stone slabs acted as their guide into the forested incline, but it wasn’t long before they and the beaten path were old acquaintances. Really, it seemed like they’d forgone any path at all, intended or otherwise, as they squeezed past vine-twisted tree trunks, maneuvered around prickly poisonous bushes, crossed rushing, turbulent streams.

From the clearing at which they found themselves, the whispers of fast moving water could be made out. Jogging up to her position at the head of the group, Sett tapped Diane on the shoulder. “I’ll race you to the next stream,” he signed. Diane agreed with a haughty laugh as the two took off in a sprint. For having only a fraction of the functioning tendons, Sett kept up remarkably well but Diane’s calves were pistons. Jen and Ulrick shared in the rolling of eyes, and after they and Sett had all caught up to the race winner, their spirits were high. On their way over the stream in question, however - wide and deep, nearly a river - Ulrick’s foot missed its landing on the collapsed tree the group had fashioned into a bridge.

Before he had time to fully assess the situation or Sett’s hand had time to make contact with his, his mouth was flooded with water, and, as the remaining trio stood, frozen in shock, he was shooting rapidly down the violent torrent toward a sound of rushing water so massive, it took not a woodswoman to know what awaited him.

But it was their woodswoman, Diane, who ripped herself from her jacket, and dove into the frigid gnashing. Her legs beat with a polished verve that contrasted Ulrick’s desperate flails more strongly with every inch of the gap she closed. Then she’d passed him. Her legs kept pumping.

Only flashes of vision stolen between each blinding crash of the waves revealed to Diane the rock jutting up at her left. She paddled toward it as best she could, knowing she’d made it only when her hand was secured around firm granite.

She gasped for air, bobbed above and below water level, but managed to swing around with fingers outstretched nearly as far as they would go.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Now!

She grasped just the slightest bit further, used her legs to propel herself forward. For a microsecond, she was sure she’d waited too long, and then, almost in answer, felt her hand clasp around something bony and warm. “I got you!” she shouted over the scream of the rapids.

Diane, grip on the mossy boulder growing ever more tentative, soon found a hand around her own wrist as she and Ulrick were dragged, dripping and shivering, onto the gravelly shore.

The two gave haggard, drained, heaving breaths as Sett ensured they were entirely out of harm’s way, and Jen, sobbing, wrapped her arms around Diane’s neck.

“This better have been worth it,” Ulrick said when he was dry and warm enough to say anything at all. But when, at the supposed end of their expedition, Jen pulled aside a curtain of vines, what unfolded before them convinced Ulrick it just might have been.

Ahead, a narrow cavern, lined virtually floor-to-stalactite-riddled-ceiling with glowing, blueish-green mushrooms, tinted each of the four’s awe-stricken faces the very same alien hue. The spotted fungi curved up proudly from their places inset in the stony walls, as if to say, This is our home, and you are right to be astounded. And they were.

Their jaws were still slack as they made their way out of the small, magical cave, crossed the fallen tree over angry waves, avoided the alluring embrace of stinging nettle. It was by the third time they’d encountered the same twisty, knotted elm, however, that their wonderment had begun to give way to weary impatience.

"We're not lost. I know exactly where we are," Jen said, yanking free her phone from her pocket. She glanced at the screen for a brief moment and then announced, "We're lost. I have no idea where we are."

She turned the blank screen to the other three, audibly clicking the 'power' button. "My phone must have died."

“Don’t fret; there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way,” signed Sett.

“Your optimism is so refreshing!” Jen said with a happy sigh.

A ragged groan escaped Diane. "Why didn't you charge it last night?"

"Why didn't you remind me to charge it? You know I always forget. And you knew we were going on a hike, too. So irresponsible," Jen said, shaking her head.

"You!" laugh-shouted Diane before she took off to chase a now-squealing Jen through the isolated wooded area in which they found themselves until they’d run out of sight.

Ulrick rolled his eyes, "God, is that what we look like?"

Walking over and sitting next to Ulrick on a log, Sett lowered his mask, gnawed a piece of beef jerky, gave a series of loud smacks, and his head a shake. "Gffrrra rmmrrr. <Heck nah. We're way cuter,>" he spat, shooting out dried, fibrous bits.

Ulrick’s eyes squinted instinctively to avoid the meat spray. I love this man, he thought dreamily.

"Grgrrrgrr. <Wow, this really tastes better raw,>" he grunted, hocking grisly chunks onto the ground. He handed Ulrick the bag of dehydrated cow bits. "Grgrrr rgrrrRRr. <Here. Can't even look at them.>"

"But you know..." said Ulrick, depositing the package into a coat pocket. "Apart from almost going over a waterfall, ending up hopelessly lost, and getting poison ivy in places I’d rather not mention, this honestly hasn't been the worst."

"GrrrRr? <Great, even?>"

"Let's not get carried away."

Then, a scream. And not of the marital variety. A murder of crows poured out over the treetops.

Ulrick and Sett looked to each other, and then, at once, took off after the sound.

What they discovered upon following the shriek was a somewhat cozy recess, marred only by an edge of burnt, toppled trees, the result of a recent firestorm, and by an eight-foot behemoth of teeth and rage that now cornered a comparatively small Diane and Jen, the latter shaking in the protective arms of the former.

The bear hadn’t noticed their arrival and Sett, without making a sound, used the advantage to pick up a sizeable rock and sneak behind the foam-mouthed beast. He lobbed the stone directly at its head.

“What are you doing!” Ulrick whispered tightly.

Sett began signing, “While it’s distracted, get them--” but couldn’t complete the thought as a freight train concentrated in the size of a burly paw forced the words from his fingers and sent his body flying like a limp doll into the shattered, splintery remains of ruined trees.

The broken spikes tore through his chest; the bow of a vessel emerging through fog.

Like a marionette, strings severed, Jen instantly collapsed.

"Se--!" Ulrick very nearly screamed, before Di's hand clapped over his mouth.

"Bad time to scream," she whispered, eyes hovering between the bear and Jen’s supine, unconscious form.

Drool dripped in strings from the bear's growling, vibrating maw as it decided who it would first maul, and Ulrick's eyes zipped erratically from rock to branch for anything to offer aid or solace. But the only thing his eyes fell to were the bits of chewed jerky Sett had earlier discarded.

By the time the thought had wormed its way into his consciousness, he was already hands-deep in a jacket pocket. When the hand reappeared, it gripped Sett's parcel of 100% American USDA-approved beef jerky. Almost immediately, the bear was rapt.

“Go...” Ulrick said, collecting his indomitable fear and anger into a single swing, “...get it!”

And then the package was sailing overhead, deeper into the forest, a ton of muscle and fur and claw galumphing off single-mindedly after it.

The moment the bear had trudged out of sight, Ulrick and Diane were on the rush to Sett’s impaled, lifeless body. The jagged, wooden knives protruding through his chest were painted at their ends by a dark liquid that might have been dried blood, but for its smell.

“I don’t know if we should…” started Diane, but Ulrick was already beneath one of Sett’s arms, knees bent to allow himself leverage and traction. He shoved and heaved and grunted but barely did the large mass of man budge.

Sweat gathered in rivulets at Ulrick’s forehead as his strain and frustration and sorrow mounted. Each push of his feet left a deeper rut in the ground where there’d once been grass.

“Well?” he cried to Diane, still struggling, wet eyes reflecting the falling light.

Sighing at the futility of it all, she nonetheless took her place under the other of Sett’s armpits. And the two, though it seemed to take a small, tense forever of bone-fatiguing, swear-filled thrusts, hoisted free Sett’s immobile cadaver from the gnarled, blackened teeth of Mother Nature.

They’d laid him down on the ground, Ulrick himself sprawled out and breathing heavily, not accustomed to the extent of physical exertion, when Diane decided, without Ulrick’s notice, that Sett’s damaged clothes had to be removed, his wounds cleaned and dressed, if he stood any slim chance of recovery.

Ulrick looked up, but too late, and the expression stapled to Diane’s face as he saw himself through her eyes was one he knew he’d never forget.

"Look,” Ulrick said, standing but making sure not to venture any closer. “Let's get out of the forest alive and... I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Diane hadn’t peered up at him once since they’d dislodged Sett’s body from the tree, and she didn’t start now.

"Okay," she said at length.

Polaris guiding her path, alongside the occasional stop to confirm by way of western-pointing spiderwebs her directional accuracy, Diane led the wiped, half-unconscious quartet of hikers back, after an arduous trek through an unkind night, back to their fabled starting point, her carrying Jen bridal-style, Sett slung over her and Ulrick’s shoulders. Woodswoman, indeed.

"I'd hoped I would come up with a good excuse on the way here, or that we'd just die first, which would have admittedly been easier,” said Ulrick as they approached the entrance, feeling Diane’s eyes wearing down on him.

"And?” she said.

"And I didn't come up with a good excuse. There isn't one. You should know the truth. Sett's..."

A grumbling between them alerted them to Sett’s slow reentrance into the world of the conscious, though not of the living. Ulrick clasped Sett's face in his hands, the two falling to their knees. Sett smiled, the black muck smudged about his features like a Rorschach.

"I missed you, too," Sett signed groggily, bringing tears to the corners of Ulrick's eyes.

"Let's sit him down," Ulrick suggested, wiping water away, a streak of the muck lingering on his cheek.

As they began to lift him away, Sett craned his neck up to Diane and gave a weakly signed, “Thank you.”

On the wooden bench sitting outside the trail’s entry point, Jen and Sett were positioned next to each other, asleep, head resting on head; and farther back, inside the trail itself, where the trees loomed tall and close, where they couldn’t be overheard, stood Ulrick and Diane, the wordlessness tangible.

Crickets chirped listlessly in the background. Fireflies drew unplanned paths through humid night air. The absence of sound, of chatter, of life, meant to swallow them completely, make the unsaid forever unsayable.

When Diane, after a silent eternity, uttered, looking at no one, “I know what he is.”

Nothing moved.

“I heard about him staying underwater for goddamn near an hour back at the resort. I thought... maybe he's just good at holding his breath." Diane gave a short, mirthless laugh, seemingly at herself. "Then, today."

She paused, and after what felt like a long while, finally said, "That tree should've killed him, and we both know it. And that blood. That…” She stopped.

“Whatever it was, it wasn't blood...”

Pointedly looking to Ulrick, who couldn’t bring himself to look back, she said, “You wondered what would happen if we knew. Well, now I know. I know what he is."

Ulrick said nothing. There was nothing to say, and his silence was all the confirmation she needed.

"What I want to know is,” she said, tone betraying no particular emotion, “how you did it."

"What?” Ulrick said, looked up in confusion as if he’d heard the words wrong. “How I..."

"How you brought him back. I want to know how."

"It's... it's an ancient art. You don't just do it. You need years of training."

The response took a second of thought, and then, as if it’d been obvious, Diane said, "Then you do it. Bring someone back for me."

"That's... not a good idea,” Ulrick said.

She blew air from her nose. "Oh, but bringing Sett back. That was a good idea?"

"That was different,” Ulrick retorted too quickly.

"How?” She was then looking him gravely in the eyes. “How was it different?"

His gaze darted to the busy forest floor. "It... just was."

"Huh,” said Diane, a sound and a sentiment. As if the conversation had ended there, she turned and straightened her leather jacket.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Sorry I asked. Don't worry about it." At that, Diane began to make her departure toward the entrance and the parking lot, where only the red and blue cars remained.

"You…” said Ulrick to her back, unable to will himself to move. “You won't tell anyone about us, will you?"

Diane paused, pretended not to hear him and then continued to exit when, just before she left the small copse of trees forever to return to Jen, unawares, dozing peacefully on the bench, to her life, to her own devices, Ulrick called out.

"Wait," he nearly whispered, and Diane stopped in her tracks, not turning around. His fists balled at his side. "Okay... fine. I'll do it."

"I'll resurrect someone for you."

#A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend #A Necromance #short story #original #series #supernatural #wlw #mlm #queer #fiction

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moonah-rose · 3 years

Text

King Takes Knight (Part 5)

Shawn gets just what he hoped for.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

(TW: Torture, captivity, ‘nails’)

This was a glorious day. Victory Day. Maybe he’ll make it a national holiday to commemorate the occasion. Every employee will have a microsecond less work to do than usual. He can be generous like that.

Shawn watches from the stage as a Bad Janet enters, bending the arm of that pesky mutated Good Janet in front of her as she marches her down the steps. Behind them are some generic demon guards who he will have to learn the names of, if only so he can reward them for grabbing a human each between them. The four irritating losers who are behind this whole mess.

He can’t help but laugh! How stupid can they be to have all come at once? Now there’s no one left to run their ridiculous experiment.

“Good evening, dickweeds!” He greets them cheerily, amused by the defeated looks on all of their faces - though Mendoza looks as gormless as ever; “So glad you could attend the show.”

“Oooh, what show? Is it Shrek the Musical?” Jason asks, lifting his chin up.

The large guard holding him gives his arm a painful tug, making the dumbass yelp like a cat with its tail caught in the door.

“I’m afraid not. But I’ll definitely be keen on making you sing soprano when I have them saw your balls off.” He gloats.

With a wave of his hand, he instructs the guards to walk the four of them forward, up the steps, and then force them to their knees at the front of the stage. The Bad Janet struts to stand next to him and Shawn allows her to give him a low five at his side in celebration.

Not that it took much effort.

“I applaud you for trying. But that really was a pathetic attempt to save Michael. You really thought we wouldn’t have Molotov-proofed the doors after last time?”

Tahani turns to tut at Jason; “Told you!”

“Well I told you guys it was a trap but none of you listened!” Eleanor hisses.

Oh, this is wonderful. He would be happy to simply lock them in a room and watch them blame and scrap with each other, just as Michael originally intended, rather than all this wholesome chummy crap that ended up happening. How ironic.

“Such a shame that Chidi couldn’t be here to join you all. I guess he’s busy getting all loved up with his fellow nerd Simone, right Eleanor?”

He grins as that hits a nerve and Shellstrop darts forward, looking to go for him, before the guard grabs her hair and yanks her back down.

“Don’t worry. I have to keep my word to the Judge, after all. So I’ll be happy to let the experiment carry on, with Chidi and the others under the ‘safe’ guardianship of my employees wearing your skin suits.” He taunts them, “They won’t even notice you’re gone...especially as they will, literally, be the same skin torn from your bodies!”

“You twisted wanker.” Tahani glares at him, the British brat suddenly baring fangs; “Where is Michael?!”

“Y’know, she’s so right...Michael should be here to watch us slowly slice that fat skin off of them, shouldn’t he.” Bad Janet sways her hips, looking knowingly to Shawn with that glint in her eye; “Want me to go fetch him and give him the front row seat?”

This Bad Janet must not have got the memo.

“Oh I wasn’t foolish enough to have Michael be here. I just needed these filthy rats to think that’s where he was by the video.” He brags, watching the shock quickly drain the anger on their faces into hopelessness; “I had Michael moved a nice, cosy location far, far away. You weren’t even close to getting to him, idiots!”

“FUCK!” Eleanor swears, not even looking as though she can enjoy the opportunity to curse; “I told you all, it was too easy!!”

“No biggie.” Bad Janet rolls her eyes; “I can still stream him the footage to wherever that dingus is, can’t I? I sooo want him to see us cut Tahani’s hair into an uneven bob.”

“No! No! NOOOO!” The wannabe princess screams until the guard gives her a slap.

The Bad Janet has a point though. It wouldn’t be worth torturing Michael’s precious humans unless he was there to watch it, even if the plan with the Michael-suit fell through. Damn Vicky and Glenn both being blown up meant he had no duplicate to use, especially as he forgot to share the design with other skinsuit manufacturers (shut up, Glenn!).

He’s certain there is very little of Michael’s awareness left after how much they’ve inflicted on him over the past few...well, it was only a handful of months but, thanks to Jeremy Bearimy, he’s endured a lifetimes worth of restraints, freezing, impalement, whipping, electrocuting, bad Adam Sandler movies, and soo much worse. There had been a time when he’d looked into those blue eyes and seen so much raw hatred. Now, whenever he took a glance at his wretch of a former employee, the light was flickering out, as if he’s conscious of nothing except the constant pain and loneliness.

Just like the humans he adores so much that end up here, where they belong. Because they’re terrible and that’s all that needs to be known. He should have left well enough alone.

At least now, finally, Shawn gets to have some entertainment.

“You’re right, Bad Janet. Set up a connection to the Tenth Circle, Sector B. I left one Bad Janet on duty there with Nicole who’s currently ‘taking care’ of Michael. And by that I mean making him very miserable.” Just in case the humans are too dumb to get the expression.

Bad Janet texts on her phone, popping another piece of gum.

“Tenth Circle...Sector B....Got it.” She raises her head, an oddly pleasant smile spreading across it, eyes suddenly bright and pleasant; “Thanks for that!”

“What-?”

The not-so-Bad Janet karate chops him in the side of the head and knocks him to the floor. He hears her make a shout, the theatre spinning around him, unable to find his feet quick enough before the humans get to their feet and surround him.

Shawn blinks, rapidly, as they proceed to take out some rope and tie his wrists and ankles together.

“What is the meaning of this?! GUARDS! DON’T JUST STAND THERE! GET THESE STINKING HUMANS OFF OF ME!” He rages, trying his best to break out of their puny hold but they’re, for some reason, freakishly strong.

The Bad Janet continues to smile at him.

“Oh they’re not your guards...and these aren’t the humans. You were being so smug that you didn’t see what’s right in front of you, did you?” She says.

Shawn frowns. What is she talking about?!

He glances up at Tahani leaning over his head, trying to spot the....Oh. Farts.

They’ve fooled him again. That’s no Bad Janet. And these humans have no auras. They don’t even smell! They’re the same as her. They’re...

“Meet my Janet Babies. I produced a bunch more to come with me. We just needed to know where Michael was really being kept and now we do. And I’ve forwarded that to our Team Two so, thanks!”

She gives Shawn a kick in the teeth before her group stand back at her command.

He spits, wriggling, bound and prone on the wooden floor.

The fake Jason stuffs a green stress ball into his mouth to gag him before all of them leave him there, muffled curses being hurled at them, before they lock the door and leave him in the empty theatre. He fucking hates Good Janets!

She likes to use the metal hooks to dig into his flesh and give them a tug, eager to get a reaction out of him despite his near frozen state. Every now and then she’ll manage to hit somewhere extra tender and a whimper will break out of his lips.

She has a schoolgirl's giggle.

“This is like ice fishing. And you’re my big piece of frozen shrimp.” She teases him as they sit in the inside of a giant glacier.

She doesn’t seem to be affected by the code, only wearing a pink slip dress. There’s not even any goosebumps on the arms of her suit..

The new one they’ve left with him is one he hasn’t seen before. She seems new to torture, possibly even new to the slim skinsuit she’s been given, still fascinated by the way her own fingers move. The way she caresses his face and sticks her tongue out makes him suspect she’s some kind of giant leech monster. The kind they used to let suck humans brains out with straws. Or cut their skulls open and lick them out like a kid with a bowl of cake mix.

Definitely not a fire squid, whatever she was.

“I bet Shawn’s almost finished making your buddies feel at home here. If you’re really good to me, Mikey...I might ask him to bring you their heads as a treat.” Nicole, as she said was her name, informs him.

He’s beyond attempting to beg for them to be left alone anymore. He’s beyond expecting any sort of mercy.

Everything he had tried for so long....everything he had hoped to avoid.

All of his efforts for the past few years were for nothing.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... He thinks as more tiny crystallised tears sting from the corners of his eyes.

A loud bang outside makes him start.

Nicole turns to the Bad Janet at the door; “What was that? Go check on it, will you!” she orders like a spoiled brat to her butler.

The Bad Janet rolls her eyes, flipping the bird and then doing as she’s told.

Nicole turns back to kneel in front of Michael.

He tries to escape into his hallucinations but she wants his focus on her. Her hand grips his cheek and squeezes tight.

“I dunno what you did to get the Boss to hate you so much, I don’t really give a toss about current affairs...But m’just glad I get this as my first job! Punishing a dirty traitor...” She runs the tip of an ice pick up his face, towards his nostril; “...And all the other dirty things I hear about you...My mate Kath said you had the hots for one of them humans...You creeps should keep that fetish on the internet where it belongs! Look where it’s got you now...”

She takes a small hammer out from her pocket and puts it to the bottom of the ice pick, shoving it up Michael’s nose.

“I wish you had a brain in there so this could get the same effect it does with those creatures...But the simulation is good enough.”

He wishes he could laugh through the binding in his lips. He wishes that her wish could come true. Give him a lobotomy? Take away his memories of constant failure? Make him oblivious to how he’d loved for nothing and lost everything? She would be doing him the greatest favour.

As it is, he’ll just sit there and take the pain of a nail through his fake skull. He’ll let her have her fix until she gets her reprieve and he’s left alone to his own personal inner torment. His guilt. His regrets.

Just let go, Michael. Just...forget.

Nicole leans in close, ready to fiercely tap; “Hold still. This will only hurt a-.”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her taunting before her skin suit explodes, sending a wave of pink goo across Michael’s face.

He blinks. Something happened.

The ice pick and the hammer clatter to the floor.

Wha...

Eleanor Shellstrop stands at the door, clutching a Bad Janet marble in one hand, pointing Janet’s demon exploder in the other.

#whump #rescue attempt #angst #tgp fanfic #mini fic series

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literary-spirit · 3 years

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Chapter 5

The next day after first meal Bjorn, Torvi, and Bonnie cleaned out Rollo's old keep. The place was filthy. Rats the size of small puppies had made the place home and she wasn't entirely sure they weren't leaving without a knock down drag out. Aside from the rats, cobwebs and huge furry spiders dominated every crack and crevice in the structure. The situation was so dismal, she'd begun to have second thoughts. By the smug expression on Bjorn's face, she could tell he already knew she was about two seconds away from begging him to stay. Yet, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not even if she had to accept canine inspired rodents

and tarantula like spiders as her new housemates.

Once they removed most of the dry rotted furniture and she'd thoroughly scrubbed the wooden plank floors with the same lard soap they actually used to bathe with, Bjorn said they were done for the time being. Since several hours of sunlight still remained in the day, Bjorn opted to go fishing at the harbor, while Torvi went off to train with the keep's other shield maidens. Bonnie decided to remain behind to work on a spell that would transform the ingredients she gathered the day before into things needed for her hygienic care.

From the first incantation, she could tell something was off. To say something was different with her magic would've been an understatement. Kind of like calling the sun sort of hot. Yeah, she'd always been powerful, thanks to her lineage, but there was altogether a new level of potency to her sorcery. Even the aftereffect of her spell presented in a way it had never done before. This new development caused simple enchantments that had become second nature to her, to get all twisted. And after about an hour of dealing with the same results over and over again, the frustration was fucking real! She slapped some of the ingredients off the stone table.

Damn it! She hadn't had a bath in almost four days. Pretty soon, she would be looking and smelling like who did it and why the hell you let it happen. "Shit, I wish I had my L'Occitane Almond Shower Scrub Duo from home in my hands right now!"

A tingling sizzle tickled the palms before the body scrub duo materialized in her hands. Shock nearly drove her to drop the containers, but she recovered in time and placed them on the table. Holy hell? What is happening? She stared at the half-used bottles from her and Niklaus' master bathroom. How the hell did she conjure these? She wasn't a conjurer. But then again, did she really conjure them or wish for them? Wait! Then did that mean she'd somehow fucked over the immortal witch spell and now she was a got damn Jinn?! She didn't wanna be a Jinn!

Shit! Stay calm. She shouldn't panic and since Jinns couldn't make wishes themselves there's no way she could be one. Hell, she could prove she wasn't a Jinn and correct one of their latest fuck ups in the process.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "I wish I was home." Slowly, her lids lifted to reveal the same hovel she stood in before she closed her eyes. An ache cracked her chest wide, "I don't understand. Why am I here?"

"To save my sons," an imperious, but deferential voice said from behind her.

She spun around to find the Queen of Kattegat, standing in her little hole in the wall. "Queen Aslaug." Her head dipped in a bow.

"Please, do not bow to me. It is I who should bow to you," she swept down in a graceful bow. "The sorcery within demands that I must. The mystical energy that surrounds you overwhelms and amazes."

Not knowing what the hell else to say, Bonnie focused on the Queen's prior admission. "Why'd you say I'm here to save your sons?"

"Because it is the truth. I dreamt of you, before you arrived," Queen Aslaug moved around the stone table, eyeing the shower scrub duo as she went. Once in front of her she stopped and clasped hands with her. "Your presence balances the scales against the many calamities waiting to wreak havoc on us all. I've foreseen it."

"Queen Aslaug-," she began.

"Let us not provoke the gods by further talks of this nature," she squeezed Bonnie's hands before releasing them. "You should go sit by the water in the cove before second meal."

Bonnie grabbed her shower duo from the stone table and placed them in the now empty basket. "Well, I did wanna wash." She gathered her last day dress, which was stiff, rough, brown, and barely grazed her ankles. It, however, was clean.

"Then wash you must," Queen Aslaug cosigned. Her gaze darted around the keep, "Bjorn, informed me you'll be residing here." She turned back to face Bonnie. "I'd offer for you a bench in the great hall, but I believe you to prefer privacy over comfort."

Bonnie gripped the handle of the basket with both hands. "That's true."

Queen Aslaug nodded. "While you're gone, I'll have thralls come finish putting your keep to rights."

"Thank you," Bonnie said.

"It is the very least I can do," Queen Aslaug said before turning to leave.

****

After her shower under the waterfall Bonnie felt more like herself. Though she was still confused by all that had transpired since she fell backwards in time at least she'd gained some stability. Now she'd be able to start gathering the pieces and putting things together. Once she finished oiling her body she redressed and headed back into the woods. Not long into her trek she realized she was being stalked. The sun had begun to make its descent. She didn't have long before darkness fell and whatever stalked her attempted to turn her cakes into a meal.

She thought about making a run for it but every show she'd ever seen on animal planet cautioned to never willingly offer chase to a predator. Yet, she was a melanin gifted woman in a melanin challenged land, slasher flick rule numero uno demanded that she haul ass. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Bonnie released a harassed sigh. She neither wanted to get sweaty or bloody, "Look, you and I both know you're there so come on out. If you're gonna try and kill me you can at least face me before you carry out the deed."

A collection of seconds turned into a minute before she finally saw movement in the multiplying shadows. Moments later a shit ton of wolves varying in sizes and color inched forth on their bellies into the fading light of day.

Each kept their heads resting on their front paws and their eyes downcast. A wolf the size of a small pony covered in golden white fur with a pair of crystal blue eyes

continued to creep forward until his snout practically touched the toe of her shoe. Werewolves? In the Viking era? Of course, there are because no matter what the weird and freaky better known as the supernatural always seemed to know exactly where to find her! She was a fucking beacon for the strange and unexplained.

Bonnie squatted to trail her finger through the tufts of fur between his ears. "How are you all in your wolf forms when there hasn't been a full moon since I arrived. Either you're hybrid or cursed and since it'll be over another hundred years before the first hybrid is made, then you must be cursed." She trailed her hands over the length of the wolf's body. Though she sensed wild but potent magic, she didn't sense any dark energy it would take to invoke a curse. "Yet, I don't sense any dark magic." She stared into the wolf's eyes, "You fur babies must be something else altogether."

The wolf shimmered from canine to man, and then stood. One minute a gorgeous animal sat facing Bonnie, and the next all she saw was a slab of meat wearing a turtleneck of golden hair. She glanced up into a face that was cloaked in shadows by the light of the sun. For a moment, her next heartbeat refused to pound.

"Klaus?" She whispered.

A hand reached down to help her up. "I'm known as Ansel, Goddess."

"Ansel..." Wait, could he be..., "Why did you call me goddess?"

He laughed and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way Klaus' did when something genuinely amused him. "Because that is what you are, the Goddess of Twilight."

Her eyes popped. What in the Stephanie Meyer madness was he talking about? "E-excuse me who?"

"The prophecy foretold your arrival," Ansel said, still clasping her hand in his. "It was divined, your appearance would relink the descendants of Fenrir with their witchery lineage thereby affording us control over our shift."

This sounded like some sun and moon curse mumbo jumbo. Disregarding his nudity, she stepped closer. "Who spoke of this prophecy to you?" Maybe this person was a millennial throwback as well.

"We've always known of this foretelling," Ansel said, punching holes through the hope she'd managed to gather, "but the one who came before you did confirm the prophecy would come to past."

"The one who came before me?" She questioned, practically dripping desperation.

"Yes, the dark woman," Ansel answered, his eyes searching hers. "She lives deeper in the forest. Not many non-shifters venture that far into the woods. For those who have a mind to try, there are spells and curses in place to ensure no one unwanted reaches her."

"Ansel, I have to speak with her," she dropped her basket and covered both of their hands with her other, "Can you take me to her?"

His head bobbed. "Come," he knelt and picked up her basket, "it'll be quicker if you hoist yourself on my back."

****

By the time they made it to the tiny shack deep in the forest, night had fallen. Yet, the zillion twinkling stars in the black velvet sky were able to pierce the canopy of leaves and provide an adequate amount of light for Bonnie to see. Ansel placed her on the ground a foot or so away from the door of the shack. The familiar energy wafting from the keep embraced her. She knew this magic. This was the magic of her ancestors. It was Bennett magic. Her magic.

The cloth barrier to the dwelling shifted and out stepped Ayanna Bennett.

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but she could've been older. Bonnie had come to know her well during her brief afterlife on the other side. "You have the look of my mother. I don't even have to sense it to know you're my own."

For the first time since she'd been dropped in the middle of time Bonnie broke. She tumbled into Ayanna's arms and fell to pieces.

"Help me," she whispered.

"You're the answer to all of our cries," Ayanna whispered next to her ear. "The Goddess of All would not have sent you to us lacking. Whatever is needed you already carry with you. Come, we have much to discuss."

Once inside, Bonnie sat on a wooden bench next to a stone alter.

Ayanna handed her a smoldering cup of tan liquid. "Drink, it's an herbal concoction meant to ease fits. It also aids in uncluttering your third sight." Without further urging, she sipped the tea. "Now, tell me all."

"It all started with this ancient evil and an immortal man willing to sacrifice his eternity to save his child," she began, "and the sacrifice his lover made so he wouldn't have to." For the next several hours Bonnie recounted the entire twisted tale of her and Klaus. By the time she was finished, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"So, why do you believe this Niklaus is the Viking to which the prophecy refers?" Ayanna questioned.

Bonnie laughed like Ayanna had out joked Kevin Hart. "Who else is of Viking descent and stronger than Klaus?"

"Who else indeed! Seems to me, all you have to do is march back to Kattegat and tap one of the many Vikings there on the shoulder. I wager any number of them is stronger than this Niklaus," she said, waving a hand as if she was waving off the very thought of Klaus. "And why would you want to form a mate bond with him? The same disrespectful dolt who places other witches over you in his regard. As if anyone other than a witch of our familial line could shoulder the burden of being the eternal witch."

Bonnie's eyes closed and remained so. "Did I mention Ansel's his father?"

"Ansel?"

Klaus' fathers name is the last thing Bonnie heard Ayanna speak before sleep claimed her.

****

"We have to get her back. The sons of Ragnar Lothbrok is ripping away the forest looking for her," Ansel's voice penetrated the thick fog of sleep that held her captive.

She heard a clucking sound, then Ayanna. "Calm yourself. They'll never make it past the first line of magic."

"That is what I'm trying to tell you, woman," Ansel bellowed. Frustration clear and plain in his tone, "they already have."

"What? How is that..." Ayanna's voice trailed off. "It's her. Her magic shields them. Why is this so?" A moment past, and then she felt Ayanna's lips at her ear. "You've learned many things on your spiritual voyage last eve. Things which must be considered. You have to return, Bonnie. For not only have you and your wolf achieved the goal you sought, but you've also attained so much more."

When next she opened her eyes, she was laying on a pile of fallen leaves and wildflowers. Her basket sat next to her head, while every last son of Ragnar stood staring down at her with varying expressions. Actually, everyone except Ivar who more or less leaned over her shooting her a unit inspired with nothing but ill intent.

"Um, good morning," she said, lacking anything of note to say.

****

"I thought you'd been raped and killed by Skogarmaors!" Bjorn yelled in her face as she drooped on a bench in the great hall.

Queen Aslaug's eyes rolled at Bjorn's antics,

while his brothers peered on in silence. Their faces giving nothing away.

She had a banging headache and Bjorn was nowhere close to easing her pain. "I'm sorry, Bjorn. It wasn't my intention to worry you are your family."

"Ack! Loki take your intentions," He threw up his hands and turned away from her, "I have no worries for your intentions. For all I know they're harried paving a path to Helheim."

"Where were you, hmm?" Ivar questioned. His stare unwavering as always. "Your appearance speaks of you being sheltered from the elements. So, who sheltered you?"

"On my way back from the Cove I met someone in the woods. He told me some things that lead me to believe he knew someone who could understand the reason I've come to be here," she said, attempting to be as honest as she could without placing Ansel or Ayanna in danger.

"You said, he told you," Bjorn turned around to face her.

She gave him a slow nod, "yes."

"Name this man," Bjorn demanded.

Reluctantly, she shook her head. "I'd rather not."

"I've heard sagas of a dark woman dwelling in the deep of the forest," Ivar said, while his steady gaze tracked each expression that crossed her face. "Many have spoken tales of her being a witch."

Queen Aslaug laughed. "Ivar, halt with your tales of spirits and witches. You're being distressing."

"Did you allow yourself to be plowed by this man?" Sigurd asked, straight facing the hell out of her.

"Sigurd!" Queen Aslaug released a heavy sigh before taking a sip from her cup.

"What? I'm sure that was Bjorn's next line of questioning," he defended.

"No," Bonnie snapped, chopping Sigurd up with a unit meant to leave him DOA, "There was absolutely no plowing going on between me and this man." To her surprise, Bjorn exhaled a sigh that appeared to be motivated by relief. She stood and walked over to Bjorn. Placing a hand on his arm, she gazed up at him, "the only reason I followed him is for answers. That's all, Bjorn. I swear it upon our oath."

She watched the anger and tension drain from his face as he reached up to cup her cheek. "Did you learn anything?"

"No," she emphasized with a sad dejected shake of the head, "I was given some kind of herbal concoction while there and I fell asleep before finding out anything. When I awakened, you guys were standing over me."

"I'm sure in time you'll have your answers," he allowed his thumb to trace the path of her cheek before returning his hand to his side.

She gazed out the great hall door toward the forest and prayed to the mother of all he was right.

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Untouchable Ch 27: The Instincts (S4E6)

Warnings: kidnapping, murder of children, nightmares

Ch 26 | Ch 28

~ ~ ~

It took a few weeks of just talking. About anything and everything with each other. But Spencer was finally certain that Lydia was his other half.

They were just so similar. It was eerie to him, because ever since he’d met her he’d thought she was everything he wasn’t: outgoing, brave, and impulsive. But in all the ways that mattered, they were exactly the same. Ambitious and moral and smart. And all his fears and anxieties couldn’t keep him from loving that about her. The good and the bad. They were perfectly matched in their passion and their stubbornness.

Eventually, Spencer had to leave for yet another case and it turned out to be far more difficult than he had foreseen. Upon boarding the jet, he’d fallen asleep, which was unusual enough as was. But he was woken up from a very strange nightmare by Rossi, who was concerned about him mumbling in his sleep.

He had almost forgotten entirely about his dream by that evening. The case they were working was a child abductor case. The unsub had kidnapped a 5-year-old boy and called the parents to torment them once or twice, before suffocating the child seven days later. They had just taken another boy, by the name of Michael Bridges.

Hotch had ordered Reid and Morgan to stay with the family that night in case they received another phone call. So Spencer and his coworker were drifting off on the couches downstairs when something caught his eye.

There was a door in the hallway parallel to the stairs. He could have sworn that hadn’t been there when they arrived, but nonetheless, he felt compelled to go check it out.

Quietly getting up, he walked over and found that the new discovery led down to a basement. As he stepped down, he reached for his gun, a sinking feeling coming over him.

The basement was for the most part empty. Directly across from the entrance was a washer and dryer, their bright white color standing out against the beige walls. And just peeking out behind the washer were two tiny feet with jeans and black tennis shoes on.

Spencer approached, but stopped short before he could see any more of the body. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and found Morgan and Rossi behind him. He didn’t for a moment question why Rossi was there.

“We couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry.”

“Why would that matter?” Spencer asked. Something was wrong. Everything about this was insanely familiar. He’d been here before. Seen this before.

“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan argued, but at that point, Spencer had stopped listening.

There were strange lumps forming on his chest. Ripping open the front of his button down, he was horrified to find multiple leeches attached to his torso.

“Get them off me!” he shrieked. “Morgan, get them off me! Morgan!”

“Reid!” Morgan’s voice was fainter than he remembered. Morgan was right behind him, wasn’t he? “Reid! Wake up! It’s Morgan.”

Spencer’s eyes flew open and found himself back on the couch of the Bridges home, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Morgan had turned on a nearby lamp and was hovering over him, concern filling his face.

It was the same dream he’d had on the jet. The only difference was the first time he’d woken up trying to get JJ’s unborn baby off the scene and this time, he’d woken up while covered in leeches. Reid didn’t believe in dream analysis… but why did it change?

“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Bridges demanded, him and his wife rushing down the stairs.

“Sir, ma’am,” Morgan addressed, “everything’s okay.”

“You wake us up screaming and you think everything’s okay?”

“Look, I understand we startled you and I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re the FBI!”

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right,” he stuttered. “You’re right. I’m, just, I’m really sorry.”

Morgan watched him for a moment, seeing his shoulders shudder up and down as he caught his breath. Then he turned back to the couple. “Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.”

Mr. Bridges stormed off in a huff, but his wife stuck around for a moment, shuffling her feet on the steps. “Are you okay?”

“It was a dream,” he said, then gulped. “I’m really sorry.”

“Was it about Michael?”

Spencer didn’t know. He hadn’t seen any more than a small pair of black sneakers. But for her sake, he shook his head.

“I’ve been afraid to close my eyes,” she continued. “I’m scared I’ll see him die.”

He opened his mouth. The words ‘Don’t worry’ died in his throat. They weren’t true. He didn’t believe them. The chances of finding Michael were so slim. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“Ma’am, I know it’s hard,” Morgan interrupted, softly. “But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep…” Her eyes never left Spencer. “Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.”

Finally, she turned on her heel and left, turning off the hall light as she went.

“I’m making everything worse,” Spencer sighed.

“Reid… these cases get to all of us.”

“I’m losing it in their living room. And I’m dreaming- I’m dreaming about dead kids and being covered in leeches.”

“What the hell is scaring you?”

It took a few moments for Spencer to phrase his feelings into a coherent thought. “This boy’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

~ ~ ~

The next day was the funeral for the first boy who’d been kidnapped. With the amount of remorse the unsub showed with his body, they figured it was likely they’d be at the funeral to show respect to the child they’d killed.

Hotch wanted Michael’s parents there as well. It was possible they’d recognize the unsub or even just be able to tell if someone was watching them. And the unsub… The unsub would definitely by watching.

After getting changed into dark clothing, Spencer went upstairs to look around Michael’s room again.

“Hey kid,” Morgan called, appearing in the door not moments later. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“You know, they’re right. Odds are we’ll catch the unsub when he dumps the body or when he tries to snatch another kid.”

“I know the odds, Reid.”

It was so negative. Spencer wasn’t normally a pessimist, but the whole situation was bullshit. It was his job to save this kid. Why couldn’t he just… just save him? “It’s weird. Some things never go away.” He stepped away from his friend to pick up something off Michael’s desk to show him. “When I was a kid, every boy I knew had piles of dinosaur toys.”

He set down the green tyrannosaurus where he found it.

“Not you?” Morgan asked knowingly.

“I had books and notebooks. My mom filled hundreds of them with poems by W.S. Erwin and songs by Bob Dylan. She liked it when I memorized them. She was convinced that they were watching us and writing songs about our lives.”

Where are you going with this? he asked himself. What is bothering you so much that you’re sitting here tossing around a six-year-old’s dinosaurs?

“Basements are the first part of a house to be built, right?” he blurted out. “So, if you’re having a recurring dream about a basement, kinda speaks to the core fundamentals of who you are as a person.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dream analysis?”

“Freud’s been discredited, but Jung still has his merits… My dream? The dead boy? I’ve been having different versions of it since I was a little kid.”

“Hey.” Morgan made a few steps closer to him. “Have you talked to Lydia about this?”

“Why would I talk to Lydia about this?”

“Because you trust her,” Morgan insisted. “You love her a lot and I have the feeling she might be able to talk you through some of this. You know, no one would think less of you if you took a little time off to talk with her and get your head together.”

Spencer knit his eyebrows together. How would that help? It was a stupid dream anyway, wasn’t it? “I just want to find this boy,” he insisted, then stepped around Morgan and headed downstairs towards the car.

~ ~ ~

As Hotch handed the young Michael Bridges off to his family, Morgan was frustrated to see Spencer standing apart from the group, clearly lost in his own thoughts. This is what he wanted. They found Michael alive.

He wondered if it was a mistake to show him the Riley Jenkins case. Riley Jenkins had died at six, when Spencer was four, and many of the case details lined up to Spencer’s dreams: he was found in his basement, behind a washing machine, and lived in Las Vegas, very close to where Spencer lived.

“You know, this is about as good a day as we’re gonna get on this job.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbled.

“And yet you’re still thinking about a boy you’re not even sure if you really knew.”

His grimace didn’t reassure Morgan in his statement. “When I was four, my mother had a sense that I was in danger.”

“Reid, your mother wasn’t well.”

“I know facts about the case,” he argued.

“Reid, you’ve got a photographic memory. Odds are, you saw the story-- he was just a kid like you-- and it caught your imagination.”

“I don’t really think that you believe that.”

Profilers. He should know better than to lie to Reid. “You want to know what I really believe?” he mended. “I believe you could have done anything in this world with your life, and you chose to do this job. Your man Carl Jung says our unconscious is the key to our life’s pursuits.”

It took Spencer a moment to confirm that what Morgan said was correct. “Yeah… Yeah.”

“So, for whatever reason, that case was stuck in your brain all these years, and it not only led you to this career choice but to the same city where your mother lives, and for us to have the opportunity to save this child.”

It finally seemed like he was breaking through. Spencer gave him the smallest smile. But Derek knew that he wasn’t going to really get through to him. That’s why he had a backup plan.

“Like I said, this is probably as good a day as we’re gonna get, man. Enjoy your moment.”

Hotch appeared from around Morgan’s shoulder to join their group and Spencer seemed to think of something. “Hey, Hotch? Do you think it would be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?”

Hotch looked down as if contemplating, then turned to Morgan. “Do you think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?”

Derek didn’t try to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. Hotch knew that no one on the team would argue about a night off in Vegas. Especially not him. So the two of them wandered off, but as they left, Derek could tell Spencer was still thinking about Riley Jenkins.

Alright, plan B then…

Hotch gave him a questioning look as he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number, but Morgan didn’t care. The whole team could listen for all he cared, if it meant Spencer got out of this slump.

“Hello?”

“Lydia? When was the last time you spoke with Spencer?”

“Uh… he sent me a goodnight text last night? But that’s been our only communication while he’s been in Vegas. Why?”

“I think you should give him a call and ask about his nightmares.”

“He hasn’t told me about any nightmares…”

“I know. But he’s woken up shouting twice on this case so far. He told me about it, but I just can’t seem to help.”

“How do you propose I bring it up to him?”

“You can tell him I told you. He’s gonna know I interfered either way.”

“Okay… Thanks, Derek.”

“Good luck, kiddo.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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lovebitesimagines · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Love- Coffin.

Guys. We are almost at the end of Dangerous Love, my very first series. My baby. I don’t know how to feel!

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Tag list: @happyhostforsymbiotes @brianaisasongbird @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @arthurscarnival @thinkingsofamadwoman @shadow-of-wonder @anytimebitches @christinawxxx @biba3434 @onlythechicagoway @accio-aesthetic @mortalflower @mollybegger-blog @13frogges @queencoraline3 @dylanlover24

@blindedbytheblinderss

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message! x

Warnings: small spaces, implications of death, violence, kidnapping, swearing.

This is an emotional chapter. Please do not read if you believe you may be affected x

A coffin arrives at the Shelby’s door.

TOMMYS POV.

Tommy had done a lot of bad things within his lifetime, a lot of things he shrugged off. He was an expert in hiding his true emotions from everyone and everything, masking how he felt within countless amounts of opium. Everyone knew of Tommy Shelby as the cold hearted, calculated leader of the Peaky Blinders. Everyone thought of him as incapable of loving anyone but himself. He could no longer keep up this insensitive charade, the mask he had spent so long forming, slowly slipping. He had failed at the one thing he had promised, the singular most important thing to him.

He had failed at protecting you.

Tommy knew that the moment he had laid eyes upon Alfie, that you were not with him. Alfie Solomons was a lot of things, but a good liar he was not. There was no possible way that he could hide his true emotions for you, Tommy knew that. When he saw a broken version of the typically hardened London gangster, he knew that he had no idea where you were. Panic rose in Tommy’s throat, tightening its grip around his pale skin.

“(Y/N) is missing. We haven’t seen her in three days”

Tommy could barely get the words out of his mouth, as he met Alfie’s eyes. The mans expression mirrored his own, worn out and anxious. Tommy barely flinched when Alfie shot up, an animalistic roar tearing out from his throat. He barely moved as the mans fingers locked around his throat, only to hold a hand up to stop his brothers from intervening. His eyes never left Alfie’s, watching as his grip loosened, the gangster breaking down in front of him. He held Alfie as he sank to his knees, tightening his jaw as he held back emotions of his own.

“I fuckin’ love her Tommy” Alfie stated, the four words loud and heavy within the room.

“I know. We’ll fix this. We’ll find her. I promise” Tommy responded; his own words weighted around his throat. Tommy Shelby had made a lot of promises that he could not keep.

What if this, was one of those?

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

Three days soon melted into a week. Each passing day that dragged by with no sign of you, chipped away at any hope that your family had. They were no closer to knowing who you were with, where you were, if you were safe. Tommy had every Peaky Blinder and Alfie Solomons out searching for you, and he was still no closer to finding out.

He sat down alone at the dining table, sinking his head into his hands. His head felt heavy, his eyes drooping down with sleep. Yet he could not bring himself to close his eyes, because every time he did, the darkness conjured up images of you. His mind kept on turning to your childhood, and how he had sworn on that day he would protect you. Tommy swallowed hard, as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result of his own selfishness, he had failed and the knowledge tormented him.

Tommy was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps entering the room. He glanced up, the eyes of his family and Alfie refusing to meet his own. He could read their thoughts, written clear upon their faces. They stunk of disappointment, both in him and the lack of information surrounding your disappearance. Everybody was desperate to find you, frustration growing as each day passed without you.

“Any update?” Tommy asked with a sigh, sitting up straighter within his chair. His heart sunk at the sight of his family, their shoulders drooped in despair. Arthur shook his head, his eyes briefly looking up to meet Tommy’s.

“None. Still got Isaiah and Finn out there with the lads now” Arthur grunted in response, his eyes flickering back down to where his hands rested upon the table. Tommy swallowed back the disappointment that was thick in his throat. It was an answer he had expected, yet the bitter taste still poisoned him.

“We can’t give up hope yet. We will find (Y/N)” Tommy stated, hoping his voice would sound optimistic within the darkness of the room.

“It’s been a week Tommy. A fucking week. We’ll be lucky to find her alive” Pol snapped, her hand resting upon Alfie’s arm, comforting him. Her words stung, yet it was what had been taunting everyone’s thoughts. It was a scenario they had all privately prepared themselves for.

“I’m fucking trying, alright?” Tommy snapped, casting his head back in frustration. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers tightening their grip upon the arm rests of his chair. “I want to find her just as much as you all”.

The conversation was interrupted by a loud banging, the doors slamming open, the wood panels splintering as they crashed against walls. Finn ran into the room, his skin pale as he struggled to catch his breath. Chairs scraped against the tiles, as everyone stood up in anticipation.

“What’s the matter Finn?” Tommy asked, making his way over to his younger brother.

“Coffin. A coffin has been delivered outside” Finn stated, struggling to get his words out in between each breath.

A coffin.

What if this was a sign?*****************************************************************************************************

ALFIES POV��

Alfie wasn’t a good man. He had done some terrible things within his lifetime and had built up a reputation that many feared. He knew what strangers thought about him, the ways their eyes refused to meet his own speaking volumes. You were different. You had never made Alfie feel like an outcast, or that his reputation was one to be feared. In fact, you were the only person who had never shied away from him, who was never afraid to stand up to him. You had made him a better man.

And now you were gone.

And Alfie was lost.

He hadn’t slept in a week. Every time Alfie had closed his eyes in an attempt to snatch a few moments, he was haunted by the endless possibilities of what had happened to you, each image far more darker than the last. He couldn’t help but assume the worst, due to the nature of your relationship and who you were. Countless people wanted a taste of revenge.

Alfie sat down beside Pol, the two forming a close friendship over the past couple of days. He had shared moments of grief with each member of the Shelby family, something which had surprised him. His eyes where focused upon the table in front of him, transfixed by the etches within the wood. He did not care much for conversations right now, preferring to be out on the streets helping find you. Pol and Esme had insisted that he take a few moments rest, refusing to accept no for an answer.

He jumped up at the sound of the doors slamming open, ignoring the way that hope cruelly rose within him. What if it was you? What if you had come back?

Alfie frowned slightly as Finn came running in, his heart sinking at the clear signs of distress the young man displayed. He was frantically trying to catch his breath, having obviously rushed to get here. Panic gripped at Alfies throat. Whatever the news was, he knew that it wasn’t good.

“Coffin. A coffin has been delivered outside” Finn breathed. Alfie pushed past him, rushing out to the front door, the members of the Shelby family following close behind.

And there it was.

Alfie sunk to his knees, unable to verbally express his despair as he became strangled by grief. His whole word had been knocked out from underneath his feet. A coffin lay in front of him, blood stains decorating the brown oak. Nails where haphazardly stuck upon the lid and the sides, the wood dented in places. You were in there; he just knew it. He felt Esme place a hand upon his shoulder, watching as the other members of the family succumbed to their emotions, instantly assuming the worst.

He couldn’t save you.

“Isaiah. Crowbar. Now!” Tommy yelled, watching as the young man scuttled off in search for one. Silence fell upon the family for a few brief moments, broken by the occasional heartbroken sob. Alfie hadn’t moved, his eyes focused upon the coffin which lay before him, his mind whirling back to the last moments you had spent together.

If only he could turn back time.

Isaiah came back after a few minutes, silently passing the crowbar over to Tommy. He placed the tip at the edge of the lid, prizing the lid open with a grunt, the wood splintering with the force. Metal clattered against the concrete floor, as Tommy dropped the crowbar.

What had he seen?

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

YOUR POV

You hadn’t much memory of the past week, having been locked away in darkness. You had rarely heard voices, apart from the occasional few that had shouted through the door at you. You could tell that these where amateurs, not used to the business which they had thrust themselves into. That fact had brought you little comfort.

You hadn’t flinched when they lashed out at you, inflicting endless amounts of torture in an attempt to steal information from you. You hadn’t flinched when they had plotted your death, the words floating through into your room. You hadn’t flinched when they had bound your wrists tightly together, the rope sharply cutting through your skin. You hadn’t flinched when they stuffed fabric within your mouth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of you choking. You hadn’t flinched when they slammed the lid down on the coffin, the nails digging into your skin.

It was the end, and you had accepted that. You had nothing to live for anymore, the loss of Alfie destroying any motivation you once had to fight. You were numb, emotionless and prepared. Death would be a welcome friend, and you could not wait to fall into its arms.

You had heard the engine start, felt the vibrations as you moved along the road. Each bump causing the nails to gouge deeper into your skin. It hurt, you could not deny that, as tears began to stream down your face, pooling in the shallows of your collarbone. You could feel your blood begin to stain your skin.

This was how it ended.

You cried out as they slammed the coffin down upon concrete floor, once the engine had come to a stop, the fabric pushing down further into your throat. Your eyes closed as gun shots rang out within the car, a silent prayer forming within your mind. You had never prayed to a God before, but now? Now you were desperate. You felt as if you were floating, beginning to grow numb to the pain, each breath beginning to become rare. Time was running out.

This was how it ended.

“Isaiah. Crowbar. Now!”.

You heard your elder brother yell, your eyes shooting open at the familiar sound. You wanted to scream out that you were in the coffin, fighting against the urge to slam your hands against the lid. You wanted to let your family know that you were alive, that everything was okay.

You wanted to see them, before time ran out.

The lid splintered in front of you, wincing as the nails where sharply pulled from your skin. You blinked, adjusting to the almost unfamiliar light, the sound of metal ringing as it hit the floor. You felt arms around you, lifting you up from where you had laid, the fabric pulled from your throat. You gasped, welcoming the cool air that filled your lungs, your eyes meeting that of your brothers. You began to sob, your fingers weakly clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. Your eyes scanned over your family members, watching relief wash over them, before you met Alfies.

He slowly reached out for you, Tommy gently passing you into his arms. You buried your head into his neck, his familiar, musky scent calming you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, as if they were afraid you would disappear if he let you go.

“Come back to me love” he whispered so only you could hear. You lifted your head up slightly, pressing your lips gently against his own.

This was how everything began.

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nearlymanaged · 4 years

Text

5. Dreaming of Hogsmeade

During the couple of days leading up to Hogsmeade Saturday, James, Remus, and Peter had been talking about Sirius’ birthday whenever he wasn’t around to overhear them. They had decided to throw him a huge surprise party in the Gryffindor common room since he was turning seventeen and they knew that there was no better gift that they could give him than a whole bunch of people celebrating his existence.

They had put up a charmed poster on the notice board, letting other Gryffindors know about it (if Sirius ever looked at it, it appeared to be a Wizard Card Collectors' Club poster; Remus had also added ‘anyone who tries to talk to Sirius about this SURPRISE party will instantly break out in most painful boils’, which was completely untrue, only because he couldn’t find a jinx like that).

The three boys had been planning on smuggling in some Fire Whiskey and butterbeer, which they were going to pick up in Hogsmeade. So far, it was looking like Peter would be in charge of that, since he was going to spend the day apart from the rest of them anyway, so James had given him his invisibility cloak to hide the contraband from Filch.

James and Peter, who had just climbed in through the portrait hole after their last lesson that Friday, joined Remus and Sirius in front of the fire. “Nice weather, eh?” James nodded his head towards the tall, narrow windows being mercilessly lashed by the rainstorm.

“Better put an Impervius charm on that impeccable mess of a hairdo tomorrow,” Remus quipped lazily.

“So about that,” James started loudly and nonchalantly. “I can’t go, I have detention.”

“What? Since when?” Remus gaped at him while Sirius murmured ‘nice’ with an approving bob of his head.

“Prongs here tried to jinx Snivellus in the middle of Potions today,” Peter answered and Sirius gave him another ‘niceee’.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“It’s not my fault Snape always has to poke his annoying nose into other people’s business!”

“What, did he overhear one of your ludicrous attempts at asking Lily out?” Remus drawled, straight-faced, and Sirius barked out a laugh before catching James’ eye and pretending to cough immediately. “Why did you even keep Potions this year? Not like you really need it?”

“But Evans, obviously,” Sirius explained cheerfully. “The rather more mind boggling question here is why Wormtail still has Potions?”

“Better than history of magic,” the boy shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Potions, you mind picking up some newt spleens for me? I used all of the ones I had to mess up Snape’s potion last week.”

“Sure. Well I guess it’s just the three of us then,” Sirius looked at Peter and Remus.

“No! I’m meeting Lydia Rooks at Three Broomsticks, remember?”

“Oh that’s right, how very sweet. We can go chaperone them, Remus.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Peter whined with a definite note of panic rising in his voice. “For once, just let me live.”

“And go get a drink at Hog’s Head instead? Fat chance,” snarled Sirius. “I don’t much fancy running into half of my extended family.”

“How am I supposed to have more confidence with you two sniggering behind my back!?”

“We don’t snigger!” Sirius exclaimed, apparently shocked by this accusation.

“You can go to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop!”

“Madam Puddifoot's? That place is always packed to the brim with lovey dovey couples. Matter of fact, why aren’t you and Lydia going there?” Remus raised his eyebrows at his friend.

“We’re not a lovey dovey couple...yet...”

“Nor Sirius and I,” Remus laughed out.

James could have sworn he heard Sirius mumble something that sounded a lot like ‘yet’, ever so quietly.

“Please don’t ruin this for me,” Peter looked from one of the boys to the other.

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “Maybe it will stop raining and we won’t have to be cooped up in there, listening to the smacking and slurping of people sucking each other’s faces.”

“You’re acting like it’s the end of the world,” Sirius momentarily scrunched his eyebrows with an ever present smile playing on his lips. “Cheer up, Moony! We’re going to have a splendid time!” He grabbed Remus’ hand with both of his and clumsily interlaced their fingers, now grinning at him.

Neither him, nor Remus noticed their two friends exchange looks.

* * *

“Look, that’s new!” Sirius pointed at the front of a pub a little ways down the road; he knew every square inch of Hogsmeade like the back of his hand, but he’d never seen this place. “Let’s check it out, shall we?”

“I’ve heard about this place. That’s where all the couples go,” Moony said vaguely and led the way.

It was indeed a pub but the inside of it looked eerily a lot like Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. They found themselves a booth with a little table by the window, where they had a surprisingly good view of the main street of the village bathed in sunlight.

Sirius didn’t even notice a waiter approach them but within moments, there were two bottles of butterbeer on their table. “Sirius…” Moony’s breath caught.

“Yes?”

“I…” Remus paused again and rested both of his forearms on the table, almost as if reaching for him. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“Do I have food in my teeth?”

“What? No… I’m glad that James and Peter couldn’t come with us.”

“Oh?” Sirius felt his heart speed up. “How come?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Moony smiled at him, jumping up, and switched seats so that now, instead of sitting across the table from Sirius, they were side by side.

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to elaborate a bit more on this,” Sirius smirked.

“I like you, Sirius. Do I really have to spell it out?” Moony rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, all while inching closer and closer.

“Fuck, Moony, I thought you’d never say it…” Sirius’ hand found Remus’ waist and pulled him even closer. He could smell him, sweet like chocolate; feel his breath on his own lips. There was just another inch left between them and Sirius pulled Moony into a kiss, unable to resist anymore. Just then, some loud, nondescript noise made him pull away and blink...into his pillow?

Sirius was in his four-poster bed, hugging his pillow. Someone had drawn his curtains open, which was probably the source of that loud noise. He blinked a few times until the two shapes moving in front of him came into focus - it was James and Peter.

“Why’d’you have to wake me?” Sirius grumbled groggily. “It was almost the best part of the dream…”

“What did you dream about?” Asked the subject of the dream himself, walking out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

For the briefest of moments, sleep still clinging to Sirius’ brain, he wanted to just come out and say it. “I was at a Queen concert…” He said instead, gazing at Remus with a giddy smile.

“Ugh, why did you wake him, Prongs?” Moony glared at James.

“Because I can’t find any fake blood capsules and I have detention in ten minutes!”

“I like your jumper,” Sirius tugged on Remus’ green sleeve on his way to the bathroom. “Is it new?”

“Is anything I own, really?” Moony asked with a resigned smirk. “I bought it at a charity shop this summer.”

“Well, regardless, I like it.”

“I’ll know where it went when it goes missing from my trunk,” Remus said, referring to Sirius’ tendency to borrow his friends’ clothes without asking.

“Nah, I like it on you,” Black cast a hungry look at Remus through the open door.

Still relishing the memory of his dream, Sirius was in no need for improving his mood. But he grinned to himself even wider, remembering that it was going to be just him and Moony going to Hogsmeade together in a little bit. Not that he expected the dream to come true, but...what better way to spend a whole day? In fact, he had to admit, he was enjoying all this pining in a weird way. He didn’t even care that the weather was absolutely dreadful.

* * *

It was raining cats and dogs the whole way to the village, and by the time Remus and Sirius reached Honeydukes, they were completely drenched. Somehow, the charm they’d put on themselves, that was supposed to protect them against the pelt of icy drops, wore off halfway there. Remus took his time examining all the different flavoured and shaped chocolates, carefully weighing his options between tried and tested, and brand new ones. As usual, the shop was filled with Hogwarts students, some of whom were girls that, despite all the magical sweets surrounding them, only had eyes for Sirius (and now a couple of boys too, since the news of Sirius sexuality had spread throughout the school within hours).

Remus was trying to not pay too much attention to it; he had been doing that for over a year and there was no reason to change his tactics now. But, he noticed pretty soon, Sirius kept telling his flirty admirers that he needed to go help his friend, only to silently follow Lupin around as he worked his way through shelves and stacks of chocolate. Very dog-like, Remus thought to himself with a small smile. But then he wondered if Sirius’ behaviour was linked to him running away from home. It seemed like that made sense - he had a lot going on in his life, maybe that’s why he’d slowed down with the flirting and the snogging since they’ve been back at Hogwarts. Sirius didn’t talk much about it at all, acting as though everything was fine, but Remus wondered if his friend was okay every now and then.

After Honeydukes, they went to Zonko’s, where they spent another half hour, again surrounded by Hogwarts students. The last stop before they could hide out of the damp cold somewhere and hopefully wait for the rain to stop was J. Pippin’s Potions.

A little bell rang above the door as they walked in, causing the only customer in the shop to turn around.

“Snivellus,” Sirius nodded his head and Snape mumbled something in return that most definitely wasn’t a compliment. “What was that?” Sirius’ body leaned forward, either about to walk over to Snape or hex him, but Remus grabbed his forearm warningly. He was the first one to admit that he did a terrible job at stepping in and putting a stop to things like that, like any other prefects would have done. But it wasn’t for lack of understanding that he should have. And it was certainly easier to practice when it was just one of his troublemaker friends.

“Come on, we’re not on school grounds,” Sirius whined like a child asking for another scoop of ice cream.

“All the same, this git is not worth our time or energy.”

“Better listen to your boyfriend, Black.” Snape sneered, noticing Remus’ movement. “Nasty-tempered monsters, these werewolves.”

This time, Remus distinctly felt Sirius plunge his hand into his wand pocket and squeezed his arm again, a little rougher this time. “Bog off, Snape,” Lupin scoffed at him, but all he could think about is that he had just referred to him as Sirius’ boyfriend. He felt embarrassed for thinking about it, what with the given context, and yet, he couldn’t help it.

“Is that what your parents said to you?” Snape was looking at Sirius again, evidently overcome by some sort of feelings of unfounded courage.

“Didn’t you hear what my werewolf boyfriend said? Bog off, Snivellus.”

“I’m just curious. I mean, that has to sting. When your own family can’t stand your ugly face so much, they kick you out before you’re even of age.”

“Shut the fuck up, Snivellus.” Remus enunciated calmly; before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Snape, the tip of his wand no more than an inch away from his greasy nose. And yet, his mind was dragging behind, stuck in the moment when Sirius referred to him as his boyfriend. Of course, contextually, it did not mean anything, but just hearing him say it made Moony giddy.

Before Snape could make up his mind about whether he really was willing to test his luck, the shopkeeper reappeared from the back room. “Oi! What in the name of Merlin is going on here?!”

“Just friendly banter,” Remus gave him a polite smile, putting his wand away.

Snape paid for his stuff and scrambled out of the shop faster than you could say Quidditch. Sirius and Remus got James’ supplies and, as soon as they stepped out into the pouring rain, decided it was time for Madam Puddifoot’s. All the while, once the ‘boyfriend’ induced daze wore off, Remus was thinking about Sirius’ predicament with his family. He knew that Sirius’ parents were rotten people, and Sirius had openly rejoiced about never having to go back to their home ever again at least ten times in the few letters they had exchanged over the summer. But Remus knew better than to assume that it was as simple as that.

Once they were out of the rain, sitting at a table, hot drinks in hand (black coffee in Sirius’ and green tea in Remus’), Moony decided that this was as good a time as any to check in on his friend. “Padfoot, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

At these words, Sirius perked up with an alarmed look rearranging his face. “You have? About what?”

“Well, I know that you say you’re fine - and I am happy for you, I am - but I also know that given the choice, you’d rather be on speaking terms with your brother…” Remus trailed off, allowing Sirius to pick up where he left off.

“Oh. That. Yeah…”

“We haven’t really talked about it, and I guess I just want to make sure that you know that I’m here for you.”

“I know, Moony. You’re not wrong, I would choose to not have Regulus change direction whenever he sees me in the hallways. But it’s always been an uphill battle. He takes pride in being his parents' son and getting tangled in all that Dark shit,” Sirius scrunched his nose, as if smelling something foul right under it. “They’re all like bowtruckles on doxy eggs, they’re a family. And, to be honest, Mr. and Mrs. Potters’ house feels a hundred times more like a home to me than that dreadful place ever did. I’m not just saying it, I am happy...er. Happier.” Sirius flashed him an eerily dog-like grin and Remus nodded.

“Good.”

“Have you got any other inquiries or is this the end of the interview?”

“Just one: why are you such an obnoxious prick?” Remus rolled his eyes with an involuntary smile.

“Don’t act like you don’t love my obnoxious prickness.”

“That wasn’t the question. Regardless, whenever you’re feeling less happy...er, you don’t have to sulk by yourself. It’s very unbecoming.”

“Thanks, Moony.” Sirius grinned, an unbridled smile on his face. “So do they have any food here? I could eat a hippogriff!”

It never did stop raining and eventually, the two Marauders decided to head back to the castle. Given the weather, it was no surprise that more and more people were filing into the shop, so before Remus could lead the way out, he stopped by the door to let a little old lady walk inside first. A dirty white poodle, just as old as its owner, by the looks of it, was trailing behind her very slowly, swaying slightly. Unable to resist a mixture between pity and kinship, Remus bent down to give the dog a scratch behind its ear, and then finally dove out into the rain.

“You never pet me when I’m a dog.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ odd statement. “You never pet me when I’m a werewolf.”

“Kinky.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #hogwarts #fanfic #peter pettigrew

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Note

Hey hi!! I just wanna say first that I love your writing and you just capture Cal so well and your talent oml we stan 🙌 would you take a prompt of Cal being very confused as to why his girlfriend keeps crying every five seconds because he has no idea at first what's even happening and like it takes him a minute to put it together (it can be that time of the month or it can be pregnancy hormones, whatever's easiest, I'm sorry hormones made ya girl emotional and moody) pls & thanks!🙇

Hi Anon! First of all, thank you so much!! 🥺💞 Second, I AM SO SORRY that this took a while!! I know I shouldn’t be overusing the excuse that I’m swamped with requests and my fics tend to be more than just oneshots, but that’s the predicament right now. I hope you understand 😭😔 Anyways, I’m glad you still took the time to write to me ;;w;; I just feel reaallly bad that I made you wait long. Still, I hope you enjoy the fic, anon and thank you too!

Chapter 4: Untimely Blessing | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt & Own fic idea

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The weather was nice in Cerinda. Cal had been practicing with a self-made obstacle course in the forest, west of the lake where your wedding was held; meanwhile, you decided to take a breather by your wedding venue. You almost hated to admit that you couldn’t walk for perhaps a day and a half after that little private time you had in the Mantis with your husband.

About three weeks have already passed after that.

And for those three weeks, there was this feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. Cal had noticed you craving for a lot of sweets—especially Jogan berries and space waffles—and you yourself felt sluggish, so you decided to sit by the sidelines of the training course.

While he had physical training, you meditated by the lake’s shore where it was tranquil. The peace helped you in getting into focus.

Your skin suddenly crawled in a good way, even though you were taken aback, you kept your eyes closed trying to keep yourself concentrated; but you ended up reminiscing how Cal’s lips trailed along your body, how his hands wandered and sank into your flesh. The feeling of his lips suckling at the exact same spots where he left his love bites jolted your nerves—your hand rubbed across your neck, chest, and shoulder and then crawled downward to your abdomen. You chuckled to yourself as the memories replayed in your head, struggling to remain focused.

“BD-1, over here!” Cal’s distant voice rang among the trees, but that didn’t distract you enough.

Suddenly, something was bubbling in your stomach and you could feel it rising to your throat each second. Your eyelids shot up and you fumbled onto fours, crawling away to anywhere until your entire body gave way, and allowed yourself to retch behind a tree trunk.

You coughed and spat out the bile, you clumsily crawled towards the edge of the lake, scooping a handful of water to your mouth to wash off the sour acidity that lingered in your cheeks. You did this for a couple of times until the taste was truly gone.

“Oh my…” you gasped, crawling away from the spot where you had your little accident and lay flat on the grass.

Your hand hesitated to crawl downward, to your lower abdomen just below your navel; your heart pounded with mixed emotions—you can’t pinpoint if you’re excited, nervous, or completely taken by surprise. But you’re primarily the latter, you just needed a second emotion to balance it out.

“Could it be…?” you mumbled.

You took a deep breath before your hand slithered below your navel, calming your heart of the eagerness—just to avoid breaking it if it wasn’t the case—and when your whole palm padded against your lower abdomen…

You felt it.

A tiny kick.

A little pulse.

Your heart leapt. You gasped—supposedly a laugh, but you were overtaken by emotion—your fingers rubbed across your tummy again.

There it is again!

“Aww…” you fawned, on the verge of happy tears.

Cal came out of the trees’ trail, spotting you lying down on the grass with your hand on your stomach. He bobbed his head to the side, quizzically looking at you wiping away a tear while standing at a distance.

“[y/n]?” he called to you, kneeling by your side on the grass.

Your attention shifted to his direction. He sat there next to you with a slightly confused look—mixed with a hint of concern for you.

You quickly propped yourself on your elbows, and then shifted to your knees. His nervous eyes followed your position.

“Are you alright?”

“Cal…” you started. Unable to say the words—even though they’re already at the tip of your tongue—you take both of his hands and reeled them to your stomach.

Your husband’s eyes widened. His smile stretched from ear-to-ear when he felt the ripple of life coming from within you. His heart bounced in perhaps the fastest beat it has ever beaten in years.

“Cal, I’m pregnant!” you announced.

BD-1 trilled a long note in reaction, the little droid is just as surprised as his owner is!

The redhead stammered and blinked away several times, struggling to gather all the words he needed to express; when he cradled your face in his hands, you could feel just from his touch that he was bursting with sheer, indescribable happiness. He exhaled sharply, his breath warm as he touched foreheads with you.

“This… This is wonderful!” he gasped. He couldn’t speak further, acting purely on impulse, he closed in to kiss you—he pressed his lips long and hard to yours. “We’re having a baby!”

The forest echoed with your laughter. Cal snatched you into his arms and held you for so long as he buried his face into your neck, muffling his continuous laughing, and slowly rocked you back and forth.

Cal remained with you by the lake for the rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t take his hands off of your stomach; he wanted to keep feeling for the faint pulse of the conceived child in your womb. He started to daydream about the games he and the baby would play, how they would turn out to be—if they’ll have your eyes or his, if they’ll take after their mischievous father or their headstrong mother, whatever the case, he has already loved them the moment he felt the smallest beat.

—–

It was your third month since the conception of your child. The first few weeks were difficult and overwhelming, considering that this is your very first pregnancy. Luckily, you had help with Merrin and Cere. Still, it felt like your energy was slowly ebbing way as the weeks went by.

To avoid getting rusty with your combat skills, you continued to practice your swings, spins, and flourishes without using getting to the more acrobatic moves that required jumps and wide strides. Cal also kept a close eye on you when it comes to practicing, seeing that you’re still eager for sparring.

“I am so against this!” he exclaimed.

“Come on, the training droids aren’t really doing much help!” you whined.

He wagged his finger at you as if scolding a child, “Only one round, okay? Whoever wins, that’s that.”

“Deal!”

Even if you were still itching for action, you moved with the greatest caution and care—both for yourself and your baby—you improvised the moves that were usually lively, you replaced the low ducks and slides with spinning, dance-link evasions that still eluded an attack in the same grace.

However, the power and strength of your sword arm didn’t seem to dull over time. You fenced with your husband—the contrast in the lightsaber techniques have become more obvious now, and he was being careful himself, he knew that you didn’t want to take it easy and so he came at a compromise.

“Aha!” he exerted as he had you at swordpoint.

“Okay, you got me. Deal’s a deal,”

“That’s my girl,” he cooed.

“Don’t be so smug, love. I want another try next week,”

When you got back to the Mantis, you staggered on your footing for a few seconds. It was a good thing Cal caught you before you slammed your back against the ship’s wall.

“How are you feeling, [y/n]?” asked Cere.

“A little lightheaded, more often than I probably should,”

“Usually, that becomes quite the norm, especially when a mother’s at her third month,” Merrin added.

“Is that so…?”

A few seconds later, the lightheadedness was gone and you settled yourself on the couch next to Merrin. Like the entire crew, everyone was so delighted to hear the news. First the engagement, then wedding, and now a baby!

But the most excited one is Merrin; if not Cal, the Nightsister was constantly by your side. She was practically your sister ever since. She offered to mix up potions that would help in easing your pregnancy without harming both you and the child; she was also the one who gave the most advice.

“My mother herself was a midwife, besides being an acolyte. She taught me everything, even if I never saw myself being in the same position as her,” the Nightsister disclosed.

Nevertheless, she was still delighted for your bundle of joy. The two of you traded secret wishes and future daydreams revolving around the child.

One evening, in the middle of the night where everyone had gone to sleep, you jumped out of bed, rushing towards the bathroom to vomit… again. For the second time this day. Earlier, Merrin had concocted a potion that was said to help ease the tensing of the belly, so the cramping would lessen for a few hours. For a while, that potion seemed to have worked—but it didn’t stop you from running to the bathroom just to retch it out again.

Cal was awakened by the abrupt shuffling of the bed, he heard the faint pitter-patter of your bare footsteps leave the room and followed you to the bathroom.

“No, not again…!” he heard your hushed voice as you rushed out of the room.

The sound of your retching was muffled behind the door. Bile exited your stomach, leaving a stinging feeling in your core. You ended up crying in exchange of not straining yourself and hurting your baby in the process. You struggled to cough out what’s left, but only clear saliva spat out of your mouth.

Your kneecaps suddenly softened, your grip around the sink’s rim was your remaining support to keep yourself from falling to the ground. Suddenly, you felt an arm coil around your waist and a hand rubbing across your back.

“Hey,” your husband cooed. “Are you okay?”

You sniffled, washing away the dribble on your nose, but you didn’t answer.

“Are you hurting?” he continued.

“I keep feeling sick,” you sobbed, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you try to fight back the tears. “Merrin’s potion works, but only for the cramps.”

Anxiety was also a constant in your visits to the bathroom during the wee hours. You hated yourself for stressing out on bad dreams, you always had to bite your knuckles when breaking down to muffle out the cries behind the bathroom door.

Swallowing the lump in your throat did little in repressing your tears, some droplets escaped your eyes, Cal spotted them instantly and wiped them away with his thumb.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay with you until you feel like sleeping,” he consoled as he guided you out of the bathroom when you were ready.

“You don’t have to do this, you need to go back to sleep,” you gently scolded.

“You’re my wife,” he said firmly, a steely yet gentle look in his eyes glinted. “I’ll be here for you. Anything you need, okay?”

You hoisted and folded your legs, leaning against Cal’s shoulder as you try to calm yourself down. He feels for your stomach again, speaking to his unborn child through his mind.

Don’t give Mommy a hard time, sweetheart. He prayed as his lips nuzzled your temple while stroking your hair.

Two more months have passed. It’s the fifth month now, your belly had grown significantly. The morning sicknesses have seemed to lessen as time went on, however, in exchange it has become a little bit more difficult to move. The weight that you carried along with you has become more apparent; but that didn’t matter to you, all you could think about is the baby and you looked forward to its kicking. You and Cal sat together in the couch by the holotable, he now uses both hands to hold your stomach and found that they could no longer contain your belly.

“Oh, there’s a little kick,” he giggled.

You bobbed your head to the side, leaning against your own arm as you stare at Cal. You didn’t even realize that he must have shaved his stubble for just a little bit. Your knuckles stroked his beard and then your skin suddenly felt the smoothness of his freckled cheeks; his lips followed to where your palm is and nuzzled in for a kiss. When turned to you, his smile dissolved when he spotted a tear that you yourself didn’t even notice.

“Something the matter?”

“I’m a little scared, a little nervous. I mean… I’m so close now, Cal. I don’t even know if I—”

“Hey, you’re gonna be great,” he cuts in. He gingerly caressed your nape, fingernails raking the bottom of your hair, “I promise.”

He leaned closer to plant a long and tender kiss on your forehead. He kept his hands on your tummy, feeling for his baby, and he started guessing.

“It’s definitely a boy,” he beamed. “A kick that hard? Definitely.”

“Oh-ho, so someone’s gonna take your title of being the ‘One Who Kicks Ass’ in the Mantis?” you played along.

“Aww, he’s gonna have to get through me to steal my crown!”

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Enjoy the smut because angst is coming. I didn’t plan on it originally, but damn if it didn’t make sense to the story line. Ugh, angst, you bastard.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

Part 6

That Let You Fly High

“Evie!” Maxwell’s voice rang through the house as he walked in the door, dropping his briefcase by the hall table and hanging his coat on the rack. He was humming with a smile on his face. He was taking two days off and that, plus the weekend, meant he had four whole days of Evie to himself. His secretary asked several times if he was feeling okay and he was so blissed out on the thought, he couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

Evie herself was in the kitchen, looking out at the beautiful fall day and enjoying some hot chocolate. Marnie had gone home early for the evening and she was lost in thought when she heard Maxwell’s voice calling her. Something about the situation made her think of I Love Lucy and for a moment she felt like a fifties sitcom housewife. She giggled at such a silly thought, but it wormed its way further in her brain and something about it felt right.

Before she let herself dwell on the idea, she walked out in the dining room and met him halfway, both wearing matching grins. He walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her, her lips tasting of chocolate and whipped cream. He thought her natural sweetness was better. They kissed softly, a series of pecks on the lips that spoke of affection and hints of love where their tongues could not. Not yet anyway.

“Hello Max.” They pulled away and he took her mug and set it on the table. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned into him. He looked down into her face, that warmth he had grown to love seemed to crawl even deeper into his soul.

“I got a call from a friend of mine, Eric, inviting me to a fundraiser tomorrow. I think it’s for the botanical gardens or something. Anyway, I agreed and I’m taking you with me. I think we deserve a fancy night on the town to kick off our weekend.” He noticed a frown growing between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t come prepared for a fancy party though.” She was already taking mental inventory of what she would need. “I’d have to go shopping.”

“I figured, so we’ll just go shopping”

“We?” Her tone had an amused tone to it, and he grinned.

“Yeah. We’ll go tomorrow, do a little shopping, get some lunch. You know, make a day of it.”

“You’ll go shopping with me.” Her amused tone growing with each word until she got the giggles. He raised an eyebrow, trying to look mean but absolutely failing.

“Watching you trying on gowns? Why would I miss that?” His voice turned husky and she surprised herself by blushing under his look. A gleam glinted in his eye and she turned away from him, heat creeping across her body. He dropped a warm kiss to the back of her neck before leaving the room, knowing he left her body humming for him. His grin spread across his face.

---***---

Waincotters Boutique was one of those high-end parlor-style dress stores that in any other case Evie would have bypassed for a Nordstrom’s or Bloomingdale’s. She felt a little out of place with her jeans and tee shirt when she saw the way the salesgirls were dressed. Maxwell held her hand and he could feel the shivers as her nerves began to get to the better of her. He squeezed a little and glanced down at her. Its fine, the squeeze told her.

“Maxwell! So good to see you again! And who do we have with us today?” A sprightly woman with a greying bob cut smiled at the couple. The woman was entirely welcoming, and Evie felt a little more at ease under her kind eyes. They were whisked away to a private room with a comfortable sitting area and a small platform with mirrors.

“I’m Susanne and I’ll be helping you find the perfect dress for tonight’s event.” The woman sat down with them and another came through the door with snacks and drinks and set them on the table before leaving the three alone again. “What kind of event is it?”

“Formal wear, not quite black tie.” Maxwell had called Eric to get more information and that was all he was told. “Not cocktail as far as I know.”

“Perfect. Now Miss. . .”

“Evie.”

“Miss Evie.” Susanne smiled again and took Evie’s hands into her own, the skin warm and comforting.

“Tell me what you like in a dress. Sleeves? No sleeves? Slit? Silk? Crepe? Color? Cut? Style? Shape? Length? Train? No train? Neckline?” The questions were almost overwhelming to her and Evie took a deep breath. Susanne smiled and patted her hand, recognizing that look of too much information on the fiery blonde’s face.

“How about this, let’s start with something easy. What color do you like to wear?”

“Oh purples!” Evie sounded excited for the first time since everything started. “I love purples, but dark ones like plum.”

“Great!” Susanne wrote somethings down and continued to asked questions like sizes and height. “Let me pull a variety and let you try them on and then we’ll narrow it down.”

Evie nodded and soon a dozen dresses in ranging from a deep plum to a royal purple in all different styles were hanging in front of her. While she didn’t have a full affinity for fashion, she did love quality clothing. Most people thought her outfits for work were staid, but the fabrics were rich, and quality made. Even her jeans and tee shirts were well fitted and everything she wore was tailored as needed. Being able to pick out a fancy gown was like being handed a gift, almost heavenly.

As she glanced down at the price tag, though, her eyes bugged out and she snapped her head around to look at Maxwell. He started laughing, choking on his drink in the process. He still laughed as he wiped his pants off.

“MAX!” She hissed. “This dress is almost $7,000! I can’t afford this!” She put the dress back on the rack as if it were on fire.

“You’re not, I’m buying it.”

“Oh no you’re not. We’re leaving and going to Saks or something.” She stepped off the platform to grab her purse when he shot his hand out to stop her.

“Evie. Stop worrying about it. I’m buying you a dress, it’s no big deal.”

“I can’t let you spend $7,000 on me!” Her voice rose with every word until the last one came out as a squeak. “That’s outrageous, it’s too expensive. THAT’S SEVEN GRAND!”

“Evie, please calm down for one second.” Maxwell looked her in the eyes, an amused and almost loving look to them. “I care about you finding a dress you love and that you’ll want to show off tonight. I want you to feel good. Price is of no matter to me. And if I thought it was, do you think I would have brought you here in the first place?”

She stopped and seemed to calm down somewhat, her face still red as she looked at the first dress she had pulled off the rack.

“Well, you got me there.”

“I know. Now ignore the price tags, find what makes you feel beautiful and its yours.”

“I never had anyone spend so much money on me.” Her tone was low, not meaning for him to hear her. It was almost obscene how much he was willing to spend, and she felt a little guilty. Kind of how she felt guilty asking to order a second dessert on their first date. Quality she was willing to spend money on, but boy, $7,000 was way too rich for her decidedly middle-class tastes.

“I suppose it would be crass to say that you’ve never had anyone with my level of wealth buying things for you.” He smiled as she giggled.

“That’s true.” She walked back over to the dresses and ran her fingers across them, feeling silk and crepe and a jersey so soft a baby could have been swaddled in it. And they were her favorite color. . . She turned around.

“Are you staying here while I try them on?”

“That was the goal.” Again, his voice turned slightly husky and a small smirk grew on her lips. As he sat down, she turned and walked over to the door, head poking out, she asked for a pair of heels in her size and muttered something to the salesgirl. She stepped back into the room and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Maxwell had settled back into his seat, taking off his jacket and rolling up his cuffs. He popped a cracker into his mouth, not really paying attention to Evie as she stepped back onto the platform. She faced away from him and pulling out a hair tie, she swept her long locks into a bun. When she could see Maxwell looking at her, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt.

Capturing Maxwell’s eyes, she held his gaze as she slowly raised her shirt, exposing the skin of her stomach inch by inch. She ran her hands up and across her breasts as she continued to pull up the fabric, her yellow bra peeking out from under the shirt. He swallowed, but her face remained stoic.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head, dropping it on the floor. She stood there a moment before bringing her hand to the button of her jeans. She popped the button as she toed off her flats. She could see the bulge growing in Maxwell’s pants and his eyes were darkening. She unzipped her pants and pushed them off her hips. She bent over and thrusted her ass out in his direction as she pushed them off her legs. From where he sat, he could see the crotch of her panties darkening as Evie became more and more turned on.

Evie remained bent over, slightly turning her head and she saw that Maxwell had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Those forearms of his, the crisp blond hairs glistening in the overhead lights, something about his strong forearms sent shockwaves of pleasure to the very center of her. She slowly stood up and stepped out of the puddle of denim at her feet, kicking it off to the side. A low groan came from behind her as she stood there in just her underthings. She paused until he looked her in the eye, and she bowed her head slightly.

Reaching up, she unhooked her bra’s front clasp and the fabric gaped, her breasts spilling out and her nipples playing peek-a-boo with the lace edges. She saw Maxwell shift behind her, his bulge now clearly visible in the mirror’s reflection. She could his hands gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles almost white. She threw him a sultry smile as she dragged her fingertips from her chin down the front of her neck to the middle of her chest.

She let her hands rest there before fanning out her fingers and lightly running them across her breasts, moving the bra off them and exposing her harden nipples to the cooler air of the dressing room. She could hear Maxwell’s heavy breathing growing more rapid as he watched her actions in the mirrors. Evie kept moving her hands, pealing the yellow material off her body and let it drop behind her. She threw Maxwell a coquettish look in the mirror as she brought her hands back to her breasts.

She spread her hands until her flesh was covered, and she could feel the hard nub of her nipples against her palms. She lolled her head downward, keeping a steady gaze with Maxwell, who was practically vibrating with want. Her fingers were soft against her skin and slowly she dragged them until her fingertips were against her nipples. He watched as she flicked her wrists and twisted the taunt flesh and her moan went straight to his cock.

The ripples of pleasure in her breasts were making her clit feel needy and her hips jerked forward, pulsating for a touch. Her body slightly bowed into herself and her mouth dropped open although no sound came out. Evie tried to maintain eye contact with Maxwell, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that she closed her eyes, chasing the edges of her climax. She continued to tweak her nipples, her body straining for her clit to be touched.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she dropped her hands, brushing them over her clothed mound. She could feel her panties growing damper with each passing moment and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Suddenly, she turned around, facing her audience for the first time since she locked the door.

“Max. Come here.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he was out of his chair and in one long stride, he stood in front of her. The dark pools of his lustful eyes drew her in, and she threw him a sultry look. “Take off my panties.”

He groaned as he dropped to his knees, looking at up at her. Maxwell felt like he was on fire. The minute he saw the skin of her stomach, he was lost. The more she exposed, the harder he became, and he desperately wanted to fuck her senseless. His entire body itched to feel her skin, his tongue wanted to explore the slit he knew was soaked, and he cock ached for her. He brought his hands to her hips and he could see them shaking in anticipation. This woman is undoing him, a small voice inside him said. And we fucking love it, replied the roaring lust consuming him.

He hooked his fingers underneath her silky boy shorts, the shape framing out her hips and ass beautifully. With a slow tug, they were dragged down her legs and the smoothness of the silk created flames of heat along her skin, felt long after he tossed the scrap of fabric to the side. Every inch of her felt like she was on fire the minute Maxwell touched her. She looked down at him and he could barely see the golden brown he’d come to love – the pupils blown out so wide her eyes were black, and he felt as if they were sucking him in.

“Touch me.” Her voice was a raspy whisper and Evie felt that if he didn’t, she just might die. Thankfully for her, he obliged, and their eyes remained locked as Maxwell slowly dragged his large hands up her legs, letting just his fingertips skitter across her thighs. Her body bowed again, and the quiet moan came from deep in her chest. Her eyes nearly fluttered shut, but she stopped herself so she could look at him in front of her, eyes full of supplication and want. She had brough the great and powerful Maxwell Lord to his knees and the very thought made her feel hedonistic. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, giving her something solid to hold onto as she began to float away on a river of pleasure.

Maxwell ghosted his hand around her left thigh before grabbing it and lifting her leg. He hooked it over his shoulder, and he brought his hands to her hips. Tipping them slightly, he brought his mouth to her slit and flattened his tongue, dragging it through her folds before resting on her clit. Her whole body shuttered, and she moaned at the sensation. Her hands moved up to grip his hair, giving her the balance she needed to stay upright.

Her tugs on his hair sent pleasure directly to his cock and his own hips jerked forward. He smiled against her before licking her again, focusing on her clit with every pass through. When her thighs began to shake with her building orgasm, he brought his hand down and sunk two fingers deep into her heat. She gasped his name at the sensation and the feral feeling in his chest grew. This woman’s pleasure was his and his alone and he was going to take it.

Evie’s eyes fluttered shut and her body continued to tremble at the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing and her grip on him grew tighter. His eyes, despite their lust, were full of adoration for her and she never felt as cherished in such a position as she did now. Something bloomed deep inside of her, something behind the lust that wrapped its ghostly fingers around her heart.

“Max, I’m going to come.” She whispered it, trying to keep the noise down as to not arouse suspicion from the salesgirls. He nodded as he continued to pump his hand into her, and he zeroed in his tongue on her clit. Soon the familiar coils in her stomach reached their breaking point and she gritted her teeth as she came, the strangled cry sounding hoarse. He withdrew his fingers but kept licking her clit until he felt her pulling his head away from her.

Her skin was flushed, and her body kept trembling against him, her chest heaving with exertion. He could tell she was barely standing upright, she always lost control of her body when she came. Knowing that he brought her to such highs felt like the best drug he could take. Every pant, every groan – he was able to draw those from her and he almost was addicted to it.

He brought his hands to her hips and leaned back onto his heels. He had to have her, and his hand dropped to his crotch. Maxwell unzipped his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out, precum practically dripping out of him in a continuous stream. He palmed himself, stroking a few times to spread his own slickness along with hers. He found himself struggling not to go any further.

“Sit on my lap, Evie. I need you on me.” His voice sounded desperate, a vibration that resonated with her. They fucked several times since she arrived in the city, but something about this time seemed different and she felt as if she would die if she didn’t feel him inside of her. She dropped to her knees, straddling his lap as he grabbed the base of his cock. She slowly lowered herself onto him and her breath stuttered out of her lungs as she felt him fill her. When he was buried to the hilt, Evie briefly thought that Maxwell was touching her very soul and she wasn’t sure where they each began and ended.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. Even though he was fully dressed, the heat of his skin seemed to burn Evie and in turn Maxwell felt as if no clothes were between then at all. His own arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his face buried into her neck. He took a deep breath and the warm scent that was so uniquely hers filled his lungs and hazed his mind.

They sat like that for several long minutes, just savoring the moment. On that platform, in the dressing room, something changed between them fundamentally. The touches, the comments, the thoughts, the looks, the sensations had been building, the belief that everything just felt right to them converged in that shared moment. The squeeze on Maxwell’s heart was vice-like and he could feel tears prickling under his lids. He shifted his hips and he touched something in her that caused her to gasp into his shoulder, almost watery sounding, as if Evie had tears of her own.

She lifted herself before dropping back down onto his cock and Evie shuttered as the pressure in her lower belly began to spark again. He was sensitive and every movement, no matter how small, was sending out ripples of pleasure through his whole body. The next time she lifted her hips, he drove into her and her moan was right in his ear. It was so loud to him and he moaned in response. Soon they caught a rhythm in that same pattern, their pace soft and slow at first but as the rise of their shared climax began to consume them both, things began to feel more desperate.

Evie raised her head off Maxwell’s shoulder, biting her lip to stay quiet, but she felt compelled to look him in the eye as she came. He pulled his own head out of her neck and he brought his hand up to brush the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her face. They stared at each other as their pace continued to increase and their bellies felt on fire – the one that consumes you until you are nothing but ash, waiting for rebirth at the apex of pleasure.

His hips were snapping into her and she gave into him, wanting to come desperately. He knew exactly when she did, even before her walls clamped down on him, he could see it in her eyes. She bit her lips to conceal her scream, a strangled sound replacing it instead and he drove into her one last time before coming himself. He was always quiet, but he found himself tamping down a strangled cry of his own. They bowed into each other, as if they could crawl inside the other and never leave.

He slowly withdrew from her and she slid off his lap with a less than graceful thump on the platform, legs slightly splayed out. He could see their mixed come glistening between her legs and his breath caught for a moment. She laughed and he did, too. He leaned into her and kissed her gently on the lips before getting up and heading to the small bathroom. He came back with a towel, his cock back in his pants, although the damp spot she created on the front of them would have been hard to hide had it not been for his jacket.

He gently cleaned her up, stealing kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, - wherever he could touch her, and she responded in kind. The smile on his face was gentle and loving and hers was, well, it was always like that and he relished it as usual. Once she was cleaned up, she put her panties and bra back on.

“You going to watch me try on dresses?” She asked again and he nodded as he helped her up. He went to sit back down and observed her as she pulled dresses and put them back, trying to get a feel for everything. But every time, she came back to a dark purple silky jersey dress, one that seemed perfect to her.

Reminiscent of Hilary Swank’s 2004 Oscar dress, Evie noted that it had a high back and a boat neckline, but was fitted, with ruching along the waist that would accent her shape beautifully. She always preferred to be covered, and as she ran her fingers along the gown, the silk felt heavenly. For a brief second, her brain flashed an image of said silk wrapped around Maxwell’s cock. Her smirk was nearly hard to hide.

She looked at Maxwell, who was looking at his phone and not paying attention to her. She snagged it off the hanger and went back onto the platform. She stepped into the heels and slipped the dress on. She looked at the ceiling and said a silent thank you. It fit and with three-inch heels, the dress gently brushed the ground. She felt divine and based on Maxwell’s whistle, looked it too.

“Evie, you look. . .” He waved his hands at her. “Fucking hot.”

She laughed and turned around, giving a T-pose perfected by years on the pageant circuit as a college student. Her hands sat on her hips and the way she twisted her torso, her breasts looked round and perfect. Despite just having fucked her, Maxwell desired to fuck her again.

“Sold. This is it.”

“You want the shoes, too?”

“God no, these things hurt like hell and I’ve only had them on for five minutes. We’ll find another pair elsewhere.” He nodded as she stripped out of the dress and got her clothes back on. She put the dress back on the hanger and draped it gently over her arm before turning back to Maxwell.

“I feel bad, we didn’t eat anything they set out.”

“Eh, we found something better.” She laughed and swatted at his arm. He grabbed her purse for her, and they left the room. Susanne was waiting for them when they exited and was excited to see that Evie found the dress that she wanted. They talked more as the purchase was rang up. The two left the shop and slid into the waiting car, Bennett’s cheery hellos a welcome sight.

“Look at that, found the perfect dress and saved you money.” She looked at him with a grin. The price for this dress had only been $2,000. She was still appalled that anyone was spending that amount on her, but she could stomach that figure over $7,000 any day of the week.

“The perfect woman,” He smiled at her and leaned down to whisper, “especially in bed.”

She grew red at his comment but couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in her throat. The day had been perfect, and she was in heaven.

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