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itsagrimm · 8 months

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He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 11 - The Dive

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN: Mentions of possible death and injury, fear of water, nearly drowning, mentions of possibly getting hurt, inappropriate use of an axe, depression and bad mental health, on character is passively suicidal, cannibalism, fear of being alone, fear of separation from a loved one, lack of self-confidence, kissing, making out, partial nudity

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by the equally afflicted @queenquazar. Unhinged writing and editing sessions in the dead of night wouldn't be the same without you.

6.0k words

Masterlist

Hope you enjoyed your summer as I have but now as it's getting colder, darker and most importantly weather outside, I am fairly sure updates will roll quicker now.

also I need to do more trips with my camera, I am running out of decent looking header photos.

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

The fresh morning breeze caressed over your slowly warming up skin. Branches of trees danced a lazy rhythm and the late birds of summer sang their song. Ghost stood next to you, wrapped in his coat made of leaves and moss and sturdy solitude, as you both looked up to the window of your bedroom. König was in there, still asleep and out of your reach.

��Let’s try to wake up König one more time.”

Hope reared its head as you heard Ghost’s words.

But not too high.

“How?” You wondered out loud. “I am sorry that you feel stuck here with me, but König did not wake up last time you tried. Why should he now?”

“Maybe we need to try harder,” Ghost replied and grabbed Königs axe.

Your eyes widened.

“Hold on!” You tried to stop what was unfolding before you, only to witness Ghost grow in size, taller than the trees, taller than the house, and far away from your little human words.

“Enough, little brother,” Ghost groaned from high above you and you had to shield your ears from the loud thundering voice “It is time to wake up. I am tired of guarding your Bride in your stead.”

Birds took off, the earth shook and trees froze as in fear of the giant that was said to be their guardian.

Ghost straightened up and turned to the house.

“Hey!”

Like an animal on the hunt that got caught, Ghost froze and turned back, staring down at you with an oddly blank expression.

“What are you up to, Ghost?” You called, trying to ignore the little voice in your mind telling you that shutting up and quivering in fear before the giant was a smarter strategy to survive.

“Why the axe?” You squeaked as you tried not to squeak.

Ghost blinked, confused by this little being that was his future sister in law. Such a flimsy thing of flesh and bone, shouting at him from her place in the dirt. Ghost glanced at the axe, shaking his head.

“Right. I am sorry. I am not used to explaining myself but you have every right to ask,” Ghost admitted, and fell back into a shape more approachable to you, like a shadow growing smaller by the change of light.

“You can do it.” Ghost said. “Hit König with the axe to wake him up.”

You blinked, it was your turn to stare confused.

“He is just the Vodyanoy napping in water. Swinging an axe against him is like hitting the surface of a lake, stirring up a few waves but nothing else. He will be fine. And hopefully he will wake up from it.” Ghost explained and passed you the heavy axe before growing in size again.

You looked down onto the massive wood axe in your hands, the wooden handle old and used.

“Are you sure that will work, Ghost?” Uncertainty creeping up in your mind and voice, worry and frustration manifesting about your fiance’s wellbeing and actions.

“Have you ever heard of running water getting cut?” Ghost answered. “I am not saying König will like it, but it won’t harm him. Trust me.”

You swallowed, feeling uneasy. Hitting a human with an axe in their sleep was murder. Plain and simple. But, König was as much a human as you were a fish. His skin shifted and shaped as he pleased. He ruled the waters and even summoned them in his dreams after not sleeping for who knows how long, destroying your room. And his eyes…

“I understand this might be a lot to ask,” Ghost paused. “You will have to trust me on this one, Vodyanitza.”

His words danced through your mind like willow branches in the wind. If Ghost would have wanted to and this was ill-intentioned, he could have harmed König without bothering to talk and convince you of this plan. Maybe there was a point in trusting Ghost even if the thought of König getting hurt made you grow colder inside than the cooler morning breeze ever could.

You looked up to the giant and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

“Hold on tight,” He stated and grabbed you to place onto the window sill to your bedroom. Like a leaf he tumbled into the room after you, turning himself small again and landing in the splashing water on your bedroom floor.

You cried out, first in surprise than dreadful fear from all the water suddenly around you as the heavy axe slipped out of your fingers and landed in the water, sinking down with a shallow ‘clunk’ against the wooden planks.

“Ghost. I-” you eyed the water splashing around the room like a lively river. Or a dark river, a deep river, deep enough to drown. “I am afraid of water. I can’t get down from here. I can’t do it.”

Ghost made a sound that could have been a grumbled curse whispered by a tree before being hit by lightning.

“A Vodyaniza who fears the water,” He stated. “Sounds right like the mess my brother would cause. Alright, I’ll do it then.”

“Wait,” You looked at König as you tried to calm your nerves as you took deep calming breaths. He was still deep asleep. A mess of tangled unhuman limbs and scales and hair and skin in the waters of your flooded room. Panic and fear surged from all the water, but you forced those emotions in you aside as you tried to commit his sight to your memory, just in case something was to go wrong.

“Okay,” You finally agreed and nodded to Ghost.

This was it.

Ghost picked up the axe from the water and raised it high before swinging it down onto König.

The impact of the axe connecting with Königs head sounded like thunder rolling over you.

Loud and painful and final.

Suddenly, like a storm, the water rose and reached high before you, waves building and crashing at your feet as you held onto the window frame for dear life while trying to see through the room filled with fine droplets of water and foamy waves.

A groan rang through your ear.

Königs voice - strained and painfully familiar.

Another groan as you heard a second hit from the axe through the wild waters before you … like…

…like a yawn before having to leave bed, yet still feeling tired.

“König?” You hoped aloud, your voice being drowned out by the rushing water and Ghost’s deep voice.

“Wakey-wakey, brother! Stop making your Bride wait for you!”

“Urgh.”

A massive wave crashed right next to the wall with your window, breaking the glass and causing the house to shake from the impact.

“Get up, little brother.” You could not see through all the splashing water before you, only hearing the sound of Ghost’s deep voice. “Stop being dramatic and flooding your girl’s room. It’s rude.”

A third axe hit thundered through the little space before you. More water rose and a wave finally hit you. You wailed as you tried to fight against the dreadful flood, with desperate fingers you reached for safety. Catching the clammy window frame, the sill, and finally just the thin fabric of the curtains until the pull of the retreating water consumed you and took you in to the deep waters.

The silence of being underwater was more unbearable for your mind than the loud crashing of waves and shattering sounds of the hitting axe above.

For a moment fear froze your body and you could not help but stare as you floated impossibly downwards at the sight of König, coiled up like a serpent snake and shifting scales reflecting the light. His eyes were closed except for a sliver of that beautiful blue peeking into the world as if the king of everything under the water was about to wake up. Bubbles of air fought their way out of your lungs and you felt panic as you watched the axe hitting König from above.

Would he be fine?

No blood came out of the wound that broke as the axe connected with Königs sleeping shape. You watched König being unharmed and lazily stretching his long limbs and body as you floated downwards, taken by a strong current in the impossibly deep waters of your bedroom.

Wait, would you be fine?

König did not notice any of it. Instead, his eyes only slightly fluttered, as if merely being tickled awake - lazy, unfocused blinking of blue eyes before sharpening up. Still sleepy, he looked around as if confused if he was still dreaming or awake. Finally, König locked eyes with you and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, toothy and life-savingly-relieving to see him coming back to his senses.

You did not smile back. The air bubbles in your mouth were too precious a cargo to smile for König, opting instead for an unhappy grimace and some waving motions that hopefully spelled out: ‘I don’t want to be here and need your help to get out’.

For a moment, a very long moment as you struggled, König blinked before the realisation kicked in. He was far away, so far away from you in the waters that he had dreamed up. Yet, unbelievably quick the serpent body moved and changed as König headed for you. With hands, not scaled claws anymore, König reached out as he fought his way through a whole ocean between you and him as a last air bubble left your mouth.

Your head was spinning and you started to lose sight as you felt hands on you that lifted you up and out of the water.

You coughed, ungraciously spitted out water as König tried wiping out hair and tangled clothes out of your face.

“Bride! Are you okay?”

You vomited water at his feet and chest while he held you like a cat that got rescued from the floods, close to his body and patting you like a little animal.

“She looks fine.” Ghost’s gravelly voice sounded through the air as you still tried to blink and see. “You better worry about this flood you caused.”

“Oh. Right.” You felt König shift and then the sound of water draining away as if someone had pulled a plug.

You coughed again for good measure, still feeling weak and miserably wet. The cold was starting to set in as the rush of fear and panic started to run out.

Shivering, you tried wiping away the water from your face and opened your eyes.

Your bedroom was a mess. But not in the way your mother would have disapproved of but in a way she would have questioned whether or not it was still habitable. The water was gone, but the signs of the flood were catastrophically clear with nothing being dry, in pieces or not where it ought to be. Your bed was a pile of torn fabrics and splintered wood. The chest with your clothing, tipped over and empty, looked like a sad hungry animal no one had bothered to feed. And your few personal possessions, kept toys from your childhood, gifts from friends, clothes lying around the floor. Ghost was standing before you on something that might have been pieces of your wedding dress, leaning on the axe with the same skull-covered expression as always, yet appearing somewhat amused under it.

And König - he was holding you up to his chest, his hands still patting you helplessly as if that could help you. He looked human. Mostly. The hair was as messy as the first day you saw him, covering most of his face except for blue eyes burning through with worry.

“I-” you rasped despite the storm of emotions waging through you. “I was so worried about you, König.”

Another cough.

“But I have never been as angry as this before. What did you do with my room? And my wedding dress. Also-”

You felt like there was still some water in places of your body where none was supposed to be, wheezing and shaking your head from the uncomfortable feeling.

“-put me down. You are so cold and I feel like I am freezing in your arms.”

Guiltily, König put you down, mumbling something that could have been an apology while Ghost choked on something that could have been a laugh.

You paid no attention to them, concentrating on your weak legs to hold you and carry you to the torn pieces of your wedding dress. Ghost stepped aside and watched you with open curiosity as you held your dress in disbelief of how quickly your work had turned into rags. Holding back tears, you let the fabric fall back down with a wet squelching sound and turned to the door. If you were lucky the hinges still worked and you could walk out on your own and warm you up again downstairs, away from the left battlefield that used to be your sanctuary.

You stumbled, reaching for the handle and opening the door only to face another cruel adversary.

The stairs.

There was no way you were able to make it down the steps without breaking your neck with how wobbly your legs felt and how ridiculously shaky your hands twitched.

You turned around, the pleading frustration in your eyes too visible for König not to step closer and peaking at the obstacle in your way.

He nodded while trying to control whatever emotions attempted to govern his face.

“Allow me, Bride.” He asked and lifted you up again before carrying you downstairs and into the kitchen, setting you down before the warm oven.

Ghost followed and started preparing tea and a hot stone before leaving the room as König returned with dry clothes for you, magically found somewhere in a part of the house that hadn’t been flooded. You looked at the pieces offered in his hands, only to see that it was a mix of mostly your fathers and brothers clothes from the storage. You did not care. They were dry and the village would judge you no matter what you wore. Might as well just do the best for yourself.

Unceremoniously, you stripped out of your dripping clothes. König held and steadied you where you needed it and grabbed the discarded pile of fabrics to put it up on the laundry line outside once you were done.

You stayed where you were, leaning close to the oven in the hopes of warming up quickly, and refusing to do anything before feeling less miserable.

Ghost was still a guest. And König was your fiance. A good hostess and bride would have started serving them the food that you had previously prepared.

A good hostess and bride would not have been dipped into a pool of dreamed up water in their own bedroom either. You thought bitterly before adding a relieving Fuck it.

Someone knocked at the door and you called them in.

Ghost reappear from the outside with a blanket of moss and leaves, wrapping it around you and placing you in the nearest chair to the oven before passing you a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“Thank you,” You rattled through cold lips.

König returned with more wood for the oven and added a large log to feed the fire. You had shown him how to care for a fire, never expecting he would ever find a need for it. Both brothers hustled and moved around your little kitchen, hardly speaking and only every once in a while giving you worried glances as they made sure all work of a proper household would be done while you rested and warmed yourself. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling of being safe and cared for, seep in.

This day, even if it was slightly past midday, had punched all energy out of you while also confronting you with every possible emotion a human heart could feel. Waking up in the flood, alone and confused, next to your water serpent like fiance, meeting your future brother-in-law who thought you would die soon, nearly drowning once again while your fiance woke from the literally deepest nap possible in your now destroyed room. You sighed, not even bothering to bring order into your mind.

Instead, you gratefully thought how you finally weren’t alone even if it was scary at times to share your life with beings so different from you - König, Ghost, Farah, talking animals and murderous Rusalkis. Yes, this had been another moment where you could have been harmed. And mourning your room and things destroyed by the flood, was one of many things in the curled grey corners of your mind. There was still anger and confusion in you why it all had happened. But you weren’t alone anymore to face those things on your own. There were people around you now that noticed you and cared for your well-being. Clearly, not all of them to the same degree or out of the same motive. You understood that. But your lost room and wedding dress, your fears and secrets and longings felt more like a coherent song than a desperate cry for help when it wasn’t just your voice.

Someone touched you softly on the shoulder and you opened your eyes.

“Hey.” König stood before you with his blue watery eyes and wild hair.

Both brothers had paused their busy work and stood with their attention turned towards you.

“How are you feeling?” Ghost asked gravely from his far away spot at the door and reached for more tea for you with his long unhuman arms without moving.

You shivered, unsure if from the cold or from the odd reminder that neither of the men were human.

“Better,” You replied. “Thank you for giving me time to recover.”

Your eyes wandered to König, craving to hear his voice again and feel his warming eyes on you. He looked away, avoiding your gaze.

Your little heart dropped deeper than the waters in your room had been, fighting hard to soldier on.

You cleared your throat.

“Well,” you squeaked, your voice still feeling thin and fragily human as you addressed the giant men. “I am starving. This is not how a host normally does it in this house since all I did was sit and rest now. But how about we eat?”

The rabbit stew that you had made this morning smelled tempting and promising from its reheating spot in the oven and you heard your own stomach growl.

“Thank you for the invite, Vodyanitza,” Ghost declared, slightly bowing his head. “But we will have to do that another time.”

“Oh,” You huffed, slightly disappointed.

Ghost stilled, as if thinking before taking a deep breath.

“It has been lovely meeting you, my dear sister-in-law. It’s been a pleasure. Also- ” He paused. “I may have treated you rougher than necessary and I do apologise for that. If you ever need help, just send for me. I may not appear to be the most, let’s say, approachable. But I do hope that there is nothing but the best for you and I am looking forward to your wedding.”

“You are coming after all?” König finally spoke, surprise ringing in his voice as he turned to his brother.

Ghost nodded. “It’s not every day a brother of mine gets married. I need to make sure you don’t drown your own wedding guests.”

König forced a smile.

“Graves marries someone new every couple of years,” He interjected.

“Graves married and remarried so much, he hardly needs his elder brother to tell him how to plan a party. He knows what he is doing.”

Both brothers chuckled and you smiled at the sight, remembering your own brother.

“Before I go, dear sister, allow me to give you something.”

Ghost reached into his coat. From the depths of his pockets he produced a huge leaf, rolled up into a package and bound together with a simple string.

“I suppose you have none yet, but a future queen should wear one. It would look good on your wedding day.”

You took the package from his hands and pressed it slightly, trying to guess what was inside.

“Thank you, Ghost. Why-“

“Open it.”

Obediently you opened the little knot holding the leaf together with slow, cold fingers and unrolling what was inside.

You gasped.

In your hands was a Kokoshnik, large and covered with fine embroidery and colourful stones of green and blue. It felt firm in your hands. And it wanted to be worn. Like a crown, proud and bright for a special day. At least one thing you would have for your wedding day.

You thought back a sob at the thought of your torn wedding dress, your fingers still holding the precious crown like an anchor.

“I am sure König will gladly help you put it on. But don’t lose it. I made it for you and there is no other like it. It will protect you when you walk in the forest.”

“I…”, you huffed, “…don’t know what to say. This is very beautiful. Thank you.”

Ghost just waved with his hand like it was nothing.

“Don’t say anything and just wear it to keep you safe. Do me that favour.”

You nodded, out of words.

“Well, I’ll be gone then. The forest calls me.” Ghost turned to the door and you started to get up to send him off. “Don’t you dare get up, sister. What’s the point of the Kokoshnik if you fall sick from the cold and exhaustion. No, stay right where you are.”

You fell back onto your spot, the moss blanket encasing you like a cocoon of earthly smell and warmth.

“Save travels then, Ghost.” You spoke. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waved and stepped outside, followed by König.

You sat there, hearing them talk and laugh and wishing each other well without making much out of it.

Then, finally, Ghost was away.

The rest of your day was spent alone with your own thoughts. König, aside from making sure you ate and rested, hardly spoke to you. His distance confused you. It gave a feeling of newfound loneliness when you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling with the wrong knots in the wood and the wrong bedding around you as you leaned against the oven. Ghost’s reassurances just a couple of hours ago now felt like a lie. You were no queen. And there was no way for you to live long enough to ever learn how to be one for König that was good enough. No standing on a box or life saving spells could change that. The finality of your fate was devastatingly simple. You would drown and König, your beloved König, would find himself a better queen. Why else did he withdraw himself like that?

The mauling insecurities inside of you stopped you from asking.

Instead you listened to König rummaging upstairs while you dozed under your moss blanket, practised drawing letters in the ashes of your oven or thought about how you could fix your wedding dress. It was pointless but you had little else to do and so you continued like you had always done.

König had brought the dress out together with the rest of your wet belongings, hanging it up to dry in the sun. The liberating concentration kept you from your dark thoughts: you had watched the dress through the window, mentally placing one piece of rag over the other in the hopes of possibly having a saving idea as the rags swayed gently in the breeze. It had worked until the light grew low and the trees around the house in the garden had started to spawn more unpleasant shadows than welcome distractions.

You got up from your cosy spot and started preparing dinner. Still feeling weak, your legs carried you with a slight tremor as your whole body was plagued by a deep tiredness. It came from all those times not resting. It felt like all those tears not shed. It was a tiredness that wasn’t fixed by sleeping longer one night because it was deeper than the soreness in your muscles and bones. It was the dark abyss of water calling for you. But you could lie to yourself. Opting to go to bed and calling it a day in the hopes that tomorrow would be better. Sometimes, giving up was actually a smart thing.

You huffed, once again forced to consider the reality of your situation.

Going to bed? Where? Your bedroom was destroyed. And the other rooms in your house had been packed up and sealed when your family died. Back then it was too much to bear seeing their things and looking at the places they used to rest. Even now, under no condition were you ready or willing to disturb those rooms. The easiest for you would probably be to sleep here in the kitchen.

But what about König? Would he need to sleep too? Flood the rest of the house and destroy every last bit of habitable space as he took you out in your sleep? Or would he leave you tonight and watch as the human-monsters and monsters-monsters finally had their feast with you. The thought nearly entertained you. Maybe that was better than drowning and at least some poor Tschort would enjoy a bit of your precious meat.

You chuckled at your own morbid thoughts.

But it was not night yet, and maybe there was a bit of queenly pride inside of you yet as you decided to brace yourself for an overdue conversation with König, leaning against the kitchen counter for support.

You opted to make some food. Since it might be your last chance to enjoy a meal before you became a meal, you took your time. There was not much to be done for dinner: heating the left-over stew, cutting some bread made of acorn flour, setting the table. After you finished, you steeled yourself for the hardest part.

“König?” You called upstairs. “Would you like to eat dinner with me?”

You held your breath and waited as the rumbling from upstairs stopped.

“It’s fine if you are busy, but I am hungry and would love your company,” You coaxed.

Heavy steps sounded through the wooden house, causing the old stairs to creak under the weight of the Vodyanoy.

König emerged into the kitchen, bowing down slightly under the marginally too low ceiling and looking at you sheepishly.

“Are you sure, Bride?” He asked. “I haven’t finished repairing your room.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, too stunned to speak before you swallowed down a good chunk of your raging insecurities.

“So that’s what you have been doing up there,” You finally said. “I did not know.”

König looked to the ground like he had been caught stealing goodies from the pantry. It was a look that made your knees weaker than even a day facing terrors could.

“I wanted to repair it. I wanted to apologise with more than words. It’s what good kings ought to do.” He explained looking immensely guilty.

Your breath hitched.

He cared?

You looked down, still thinking of your room and your ruined wedding dress. It did hurt you.

But there was hope because he cared. You nearly hated yourself how desperate you were from the affection of someone who you could never have.

“It’s fine,” You said, after a few moments of heavy silence as you fought the storm inside of you. “It’s fine for now. We will make it work and repair it together. It’s, ah, fine.”

He looked relieved as you looked up from your hands.

“I also want to apologise,” You continued. The words in your mouth felt relieving to spit out like bitter medicine. “I thought about this. I was really cross at you. Not entirely sure how much nicer I could have been considering the moment. But I don’t strive to talk to others like that, especially not my fiance. I just felt hurt and alone.”

He turned his head like the Heron when hunting little fish in the water.

“You have every right to be angry, dear,” König stated

“I...” You tried before stopping and starting anew. “That does not mean I am proud or okay with my words. Especially after Ghost explained to me that you probably overworked yourself on my behalf. I am not sure how to feel about that yet but it does not make me feel good. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. I feel so guilty. And like a burden.”

König stared at you.

“Dear,” He said softly. “I know you want to be good and kind. I know you are. But please give me your bad as well.”

You blinked at him.

“What?”

He raised his arms like a man at a loss of word, stumbling around the room until he turned back to you.

“Guess how I feel failing you over and over again when your reaction to me is kindness and surrender? I feel bad. The worst! Don’t do this to me. Be a burden. Be angry. Be the biggest inconvenient person wherever you go. Please be angry and demand better of me! I want all of you. Not just the nice parts.”

Your head was spinning. Was he…? Did he really…?

“I am not good enough!” König continued his tirade with a voice rising louder and louder like a tea kettle that had reached its boiling point. “I am who puts you in danger over and over again. I hardly protect you from the dangers of the world. I am a danger of the world. I am making a poor husband for you. But the reality is, I am not good enough to step away because I am selfish. So, how dare you make yourself feel any less than you are.”

His eyes gleamed with a madness you had never seen before in him as he lowered his voice with the last of his words. It was dangerous. A sign of warning that told you to step back and run as far away as you could like a good girl should.

But you were just invited to leave that behind you.

“I don't want you to leave either!” You hit back, squaring up to the challenge. “I just don’t want to feel like I am a constant problem. I am just a human! A peasant! And a bad one at that since I will likely starve next winter without help! I know nothing of how to be a queen! I nearly drown all the time! How can you not understand that I don’t feel like I am allowed to be a problem when my reality is that no one cares if I live or die!”

“Because you are wrong! I care.” König's eyes gleamed as he hissed his answer.

“Why?” You spit back, the fire in you burning and ready to torch any bridge behind without thinking.

“Because I love you.”

Königs words hung in the air, irretrievable and powerful enough to break whatever you two had.

You looked at him. His face was frozen in fear and panic. Like he had admitted to a crime he’d sworn to keep a secret.

He loved you. The thought raced through your mind, unsure where to be put and what to do with it now.

“I am sorry,” König said. “I understand. I will make sure you are okay as promised anyway and-”

“Please…” you managed to your own surprise.

“Please?” König asked with his eyes shining down at you.

You took a deep breath and all the courage in you that was left, “Please lean down so I can kiss you.”

König looked at you, too stunned maybe or unsure how to touch you without breaking this human body of yours, before finally kneeling down in one, not so smooth, motion. You stumbled forward, colliding into his chest and tangling in his arms before lifting your head and kissing him.

It was all teeth and desperation. König met your lips with a hunger matching yours, and an anger challenging your long hidden fury. He moaned and you wanted every bit of air you could get from him as you roamed his back and shoulders and arms and chest and neck, and at a certain point you got lost in him. You bit his lips and tasted blood. He snarled and pushed you back, catching your head before you could fall and hurt yourself. You stumbled and fell back anyway, taking him with you. The crash rumbled loudly as König caught himself on his arms, hovering above you before continuing where you had left off. His mouth was addicting, and willingly you answered his salty lips and tongue. A bit of revealed skin at his neck here, a tug at your shirt there. You scooted up feeling hot and needing that damn old shirt off your body because you were burning up with it. Instead of getting it off quickly you got yourself tangled in the large sleeves, nearly ready to just tear it off your body as you felt Königs hands pulling at the fabric and freeing you. The kiss of the cooling air on your skin made you still. For a moment you felt shy, making you cross your arms in instinct before your chest.

König looked at you from a position that was something between kneeling, sitting and lying before you, also half out of his clothes with his Rubacha hanging around his neck and head.

“Not sure why I feel like this is new, now.” You admitted. “You have seen me naked before.”

“That was a different nakedness,” König offered and finished getting the shirt off. “This is new.”

You nodded, understanding entirely what he meant, and continued to feel vulnerable. What were you supposed to do? You had no idea what you wanted now except being close to König.

“We don’t have to continue, my love.” Your fiance said.

You nodded again, reassured yet still utterly lost on what to do.

König scooted closer and slowly raised his hands, “Can I touch you? I just want to hold you.”

Instead of bothering with words or another creative and variety serving nod, you leaned into him. Königs warm hands caught you, pressed you closer to him and embraced you.

You hummed.

“Is this good?”

“Yeah, I am sorry-”

“No,” König shut down instantly. “No more ‘sorry’ for you tonight. Or ever. I really meant that.”

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion.

“But what if I do something bad?” You countered as you enjoyed feeling close to König. “Shouldn’t I say sorry at some point?”

“To me? Always.” König grinned teasingly before growing serious. “The rest of the world, however, has a lot of apologising to do before you ever get back into a situation to be sorry for something, dear.”

“You just want me to be as bad as you are,” You teased back half-heartedly.

“Naturally.”

You stayed silent, not sure what to say or do except enjoying being safe and loved in Königs arms as you mindlessly explored his back and chest with your fingers, drawing little circles and charms into his wonderful skin.

“We should talk about the sleeping situation tonight.” You finally spoke, breaking the silent spell over you.

“Yeah.” König agreed. “I have an idea.”

Cultural Context Notes:

The theme of the unkillable giants as beings connected to nature can be found in the Edda, but it’s not the only place this theme is explored. It’s just the most clear one I thought of, and can be put into words as a place to maybe start researching if your are interested in that. The idea of hitting König as something akin to a giant to wake him up, comes from the tale of Thor and Skrímnir.

Generally, the idea of paralleling gods/godlike beings, humans and giants, escalated into a bit of a philosophical excursion at the kitchen table when I mentioned how the story is unfolding, leading to the question what exactly the difference between godlings, giants and humans is and if there even is one. In plenty of pre-Christian European tales, there aren’t boundaries between godlike beings and humans. If a human stays with a godlike being, they kind of tag along and don’t die like they would have had when staying with their fellow humans. Sometimes there is an explanation for it (godly ancestry, nectar or Idun’s apples, magical blessings), sometimes there isn’t (Thialfi and Röskva as Thor’s entourage, general trope of humans in service of or in marriage with a non-human being).

Warming stones or using ceramics is an old practice when hot water bottles weren’t available.

There are several legends and myths associating the water or waters generally with snakes. Naturally, there is the saga of the Midgard snake, encompassing the world in Norse mythology. The theme of a great water snake or mermaid-like half-fish, half-human body encompassing the world also comes up in Greek mythology in the figure of Oceanos as the great river god and father of river gods. Since we don’t have plenty of sources about old Slavic beliefs, I am taking the liberty and filling some gaps here from geographically closer regions where we do have more sources on mythology.

Acorn is edible and can be made into a fine flour from which it is possible to bake bread. However, do not just make flour from acorns. It’s a huge process to disinfect and debitter acorns before grinding them into flour. There is a reason why nowadays most cultures opt for utilising cultivated crops like grains and legumes instead of using low yield giving nuts and seeds. (Also, we really need those acorns as food for wild animals and for reforestation!) Cultivation of plants is a huge game changer for human life quality and communal living. It’s really cool. But it does require more cooperative systems of labour since harvesting and processing plants like grain requires sharing of work, space to do it, and natural weather & ground conditions to grow. Plus the grain in itself needs to be cultivated first. And these amazing food sources can be exploited by having control over places in which one can grow certain high yielding crops which can trigger war and oppression. Most noticeably in the Central and Eastern European region, which is obviously what I write about a lot, this is the case with Ukraine. This now independent country has good climate and ground conditions, yielding great harvests of wheat grain and sunflower, leading to the region being dubbed the Granary of Europe. Ukraine was fought over not just today but also occupied in historical moments like WW2 by the Nazis or under the Russian Empire precisely to have access to these high yielding conditions. So, food and where food comes from, is an important angle to understand plenty of conflicts, imperial oppression and cultures. I invite you to read more about the history of grain, why Ukraine has a flag literally depicting a grain filed under the blue sky or maybe learning how to make bread yourself. To return to my point: Bride lives in an area which has seasons. However, the climate is cooler with lots of swamps and waters around. The forest takes most of the shore space in her immediate vicinity. She has a garden in which she (tries to) grow buckwheat, a very climate-resistant pseudo grain. And technically she owns fields, but has no way to work them on her own due to the lack of manpower, possible lack of seeds, as well as timing issues for the sowing. But common grains like wheat require a warm and steady dry climate which is not the case here. Other grains like rye are historically common in Central and Eastern Europe, however one needs to plant them first and after the harvest it still requires labour to dry and deshell the rye first, a luxury that Bride does not have because she has been on her own for most of the year. So, to finish this long excursion on grains and flours - she uses acorn flour for bread because she was isolated and on her own. Also, agriculture is really cool and maybe you will think about the amount of labour, logistics, politics and historical development when biting into something flour based.

Vodyanitza is just the female version of Vodynoy

Rubacha is the name of the traditional linen shirt worn by historically both men and women but nowadays mostly associated with male clothing traditions. This shirt is often loosely fitted and bound at the hip with a belt. Having embroidery, especially red embroidery on a Rubacha is very common as red natural dye was widely available in the region. The embroidery and introduction of other colours is dependent on the exact time and place a Rubacha comes from. Even nowadays the Rubacha is part of plenty of Eastern European traditional dresses.

Quick reminder: a Tschort is a type of evil spirit.

Would you like to be tagged as well? send me a message.

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @fatedeniedhope @queensidillasworld @agspgrwasb @silelda @unlikepoltergeist @matcha-flavored-cake @blvkwondaland @diamondnightdreamer @brooklyn-1918 @thorns-x @icepancakes @sizzlingsaladpeach @peachymonsters @blackrockshooter780 @cl3rks @king-thunderstorm @hosshihusshi @id0nthaveidea @perilous-pasta @lothiriel9 @berryjuicyy @asmohunny @amatis-gray @blubumblebee @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @c00kied0ugh44 @quesowakanda @moonlitmoonpie @ktmjoslin @globalmilk03 @interactive-brain @dark-rosy-amaranthine @quietlyignoringyou @hey-assbutt35

#grimmwriting #he who comes from under the water #hwcfutw #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty 3 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #leshy #monster!au #monster!König #vodyanoy #vodyanoy!König

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highwayorgantrade · 1 year

Text

An Echo In The Dark (Part I)

Pairing: König x Female!Reader x Ghost

Request: No request no thoughts just big scary men

Summary: On a recon mission gone horribly wrong, you, Ghost, and Konig are subject to an experimental drug created by the enemy.

Word Count: 3.3k

Song inspo: IN MY MOUTH - Black Dresses

Warnings: Oh my god i am so sorry, sex pollen, (dub-con because of said sex pollen.), degradation, praise double penetration, anyone wanna go to Paris?, oral (m and f receiving), mention of drinking, mention of war, cursing, mentions of drugs (it's the "pollen."), choking, minor mention of a tummy bulge if you squint and assume.

Author's note: Genuinely, for once I don't know what to tell y'all, I just... I don't know. Oh! My best friend @quizzyisdone helped me come up with this! She's an astounding author and if you like what I write, you'll LOVE what she writes. Reader's code name is Echo (again).

When Laswell had called you to inform you of a new mission, excitement bit at your stomach. You liked your job, you liked (most) of the people you worked with, and you liked the adrenaline. The feeling died down as you eyed the bar across the street. This was definitely the address she gave you, a random location in London. It was kind of nice - not a dive, but not too fancy that you would stand out. Smart.

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Laswell's face glancing up at you, and Ghost and König leaned over the table, untouched drinks in front of them.

"Hey, what can I get ya?" The bartender smiled widely at you, and the thought that he didn't know of the people in the room made you smile back.

"Jack and Coke, please." He nodded, and you took your place at the table.

"Jack and Coke? You have the taste of a 50 year old man." Ghost greeted you, keeping his hands crossed on the table. König stood when you approached, and sat back down wordlessly. You knew he was a shy person from the training grounds, so the action didn't offend you too terribly.

"Hello Ghost, still judgmental as ever." You narrowed your eyes at him, but a smile still crossed your face. "König, all good?"

"I'm happy to see you're still alive."

"Echo, we have kind of... a situation." Laswell leaned in to you. "We have intel of something in the Kangal mountains."

"Intel of 'something'? That doesn't sound too promising." You raised your eyebrow. "You know I'm in." Laswell took a breath, and held it as the bartender placed the drink in front of you.

"All I know definitively is that the location has been mostly abandoned, but something in there is a major security threat."

"Mostly abandoned?" König glanced at Laswell. "So it's lightly guarded? Is there another location?"

"If there is, we need to find where. I genuinely do not know anything else." She looked frustrated at the lack of information.

"And what of your informant? How do they know there's 'something' here? It sounds like a trap." Ghost leaned back in his chair and shook his head slightly.

"My informant is to be highly trusted, and their identity is confidential." She took a deep breath. "I requested the three of you because I know that your personalities together is... quite the force. Ghost - You think things through. You're analytical. König - you're damn good with a gun, and your skills are top notch."

"You can be our muscle." You grinned at him and kicked his foot under the table.

"Echo's talent is that she's fucking insane." He shot back at you and returned the kick, causing your chair to shake. Laswell shrugged.

"In layman's terms, yeah." You shot her a look of playful disbelief.

"Alright." Ghost stood, sighing. "I'm in."

"I will see you in the mountains." König nodded at you and Ghost.

"This is gonna be fucking awesome."

"The room you're looking for is going to be on the north corner of the building. Let me know when you think you've got it." Laswell's voice crackled in your ear, a slight comfort that you were still connected to her in the large facility. Your eyes met with Ghost, and he nodded at you, wordlessly confirming that he heard the direction. The building was spooky, there was no doubt about it, and every so often, you had to resist the urge to shiver, even underneath your uniform and gear. You felt as though you were walking straight into darkness - you didn't know exactly what you were looking for, and you didn't know who was behind it.

"10-4. Approaching location now." König's rough whisper came through your earpiece, and seconds later, he appeared behind Ghost soundlessly, looking even more threatening in the dim lighting of the hallway. Ghost turned to see König behind him, and jumped at the sight of him.

"Fuck, mate, you're creepy." Although the comment was under his breath, it still felt loud compared to the silence around you.

"Could say the same about you, skull-face." You were quick to come to König's defense. Although your personalities were best for the job, they could clash, a little more often than not. And while you never talked about it, you could tell that König's size was an insecurity of his. Ghost glared at you from behind his mask, and huffed. "Let's get a move on, then."

Hallway after hallway, your stomach jumped at the possibility of somebody standing in your way. Or multiple somebodies. However, there was never a soul. It seemed like even the rats and cockroaches deemed this place condemned. Eventually, a door came into view with a language written on it that you couldn't understand. 'Коркунуч - Ачпаңыз. Кошумча химиялык заттар'. That's not Russian.

"Uh, Laswell, we're on the north side. I got a black door with some fuckin' words on it. None I can recognize." You spoke quietly in the radio, hoping that she would have a translation for you.

"That's it. Nice job. Search the room and report anything that looks suspicious or out of place."

"10-4."

"I'm gonna kick in the door. Be prepared if someone hears." Ghost took a deep breath and braced himself, but was stopped by König's hand on his shoulder. He reached for the door handle, and to your surprise, it was unlocked.

"That was easy." You chuckled at Ghost's glowering, his eyes narrowed at the door, like it was the door's fault for being unlocked. Quickly, you raised your weapon, and shouldered into the room, quickly scanning the corners for any immediate dangers. "Clear."

Ghost and König filed in behind you, closing the door behind them. The room was dark, save for a dim fluorescent imbedded in the ceiling. Dust was settled on everything, and it was clear that nobody had been in this room for ages. File cabinets upon file cabinets lined the walls, and a table sat in the middle of the room, papers and manila folders littered the top, and the desk in the corner didn't look any more organized.

"Ghost, set in on the desk and see if there's anything. König, search the table, and I'll work on these cabinets." He nodded at your direction, and began flipping through papers, trying to find anything he could understand. König ripped his hood off, and leaned over the table.

The cabinets all looked in the same state of disrepair, save for one that looked just slightly out of place. Okay, you've been flying on sheer dumb luck all the way up to now, why stop? You pulled open a drawer, and the cabinet jolted at the force, a lock preventing your progress. You were met with a simple black screen with a keypad. Fuck, there's a code?

"Hey, see if any of you can find me a 4 digit code." You called, giving a light kick to the bottom of the cabinet.

"Try 1992, it's on this newspaper." Ghost tossed the paper at you, and you looked it over. Is that...

"Hey, is this Bill Clinton shaking hands with this guy?" You stared at the paper harder, trying to place the location.

"Yeah, that's the UN HQ in New York. What country joined the UN in 1992?" Ghost looked at you, and you shrugged.

"Must not have been very happy about it, I guess. Come look." You tilted your head toward the cabinet, and König joined you and Ghost. "Let's pop this bitch open." You mumbled, and typed in the code. A click sounded through the room as the drawer was unlocked. "I'm so fuckin' good." You grinned to yourself, and Ghost nudged you with his boot, reminding you that he was the one who gave you the code. Whatever. Your paychecks would all be the same. Hopefully.

As soon as you pulled the drawer open, a grey gas filled the room, and you could only think about Ghost's comment earlier.

"It sounds like a trap."

Before you could react, the gas filled your lungs, and the expectation of pain filled you, weighing heavy in your chest. Despite every single danger alert going off in your body, your couldn't bring yourself to move. It was like your legs refused to work, and panic filled your mind. Was this lethal? Was this one of the gases you learned about, where it would destroy you from the inside out?

"God fucking damn it!" Ghost roared, and bolted for the door, attempting to air the room out. König grabbed your arm, and it felt like he had just touched you with a branding iron. Even through his gloves, his touch was burning.

"Ow, fuck König, that hurts, fucking stop!" You screamed at him through your haze, but he only ignored you. Your mind was fuzzy, and you could barely comprehend that you were being moved outside the room. When the wall met your back, you heard the slamming of the door and the coughing of the two men next to you, trying to clear out whatever the hell had just infected you all.

"Echo, she got the worst of it." Ghost struggled for air, and his shaking hands reached for his canteen while he crouched next to you. You couldn't feel the cold air anymore, and you felt like you were on fire, and there was a feeling of... Want? You wanted something? Yeah, you wanted to not fucking die. Panic rose in your throat, and you hastily ripped your gear off in a desperate attempt to try and get as much non-contaminated air as you could.

"Echo, what's going on?" König appeared at the other side of you, taking steady, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. "Talk to us, what's happening?"

The feeling was unbearable, and any breath you took to try and speak was cut short by a fit of coughing.

"Focus." Ghost growled, and put the canteen up to your lips, forcing you to drink. "Don't cough. Just take it."

The command made you widen your eyes, and the burning cooled down, from a death sentence to a serious discomfort.

"Good, good. You're doing so good." König's eyes were still wild, worried. You didn't mean to choke at his words, but it felt like your chest tightened just at the praise. The desire in the pit of your stomach grew stronger. "Come, we need to get out of this hallway. There's a different room up here. Can you walk?" You nodded your head, but you were unsure. If you couldn't manage to distance yourself from being sprayed with a mysterious gas, how could you walk? "Up you go, then."

You can walk because he's telling you to walk.

What the fuck? No. You can walk on your own accord. When you stood, the hallway spun slightly until you could reorient yourself to your surroundings. Ghost stood at the entrance of the room König referenced, and before you could react, König wrapped his arm around your back, and picked you up, supporting your legs with his other arm.

Being this close to him was calming the pain in your body, and replacing it with pure euphoria. You had never thought about König in that way before this. Sure, he was attractive, and the sheer size of him made you wonder if you could see the bulge of his-.

"Lay her on the table. I don't want her moving by herself until we can figure out exactly what the hell that was." Ghost's voice modulator was rough, and it sent shocks straight through you. When König set you down, you gripped at his shirt, desperate to keep the feeling alive.

"It's hot. I'm fucking hot." You groaned when he pulled away, and pouted at the loss of contact. This room was almost the same as the other one, but there were no file cabinets, only a folder placed on a desk, the table you were placed on, and a few scattered chairs.

"I know." König shook his head and leaned against the wall, his eyes clenched shut. "Ghost?"

"Right there with you." He fingered through the file, reading whatever was in it. "König." Ghost's tone had completely shifted, but you couldn't be bothered to pick your head up to look at him, you were focused on a point on the wall, trying to keep your imagination from wandering at Ghost's voice. König met Ghost at the desk, bent so he could read whatever was on that paper. You trusted that whatever you needed to know, they would tell you.

"Does that mean-?" König's voice was soft, a harsh contrast to Ghost's.

"Echo, stay here. König and I need to talk." And with that, they both exited the room swiftly.

The only thing on your mind was seeing Ghost and König together, and the thought caused another jump in your lower stomach. The feeling of König's hard chest against your body returned to you, and you were only reminded of the heat that seemed to be radiating out of your body. On instinct, your legs pressed together, and it appeared that any rational thought you had was left in the room you were poisoned in.

God, it was really was hot in there. The hushed, and sometimes harsh whispers of your team were barely registered in your brain, as something in you had become animalistic - powerful, hungry, and downright scary. The only thought swimming in your mind - If it's so hot, take off your top. Ghost and König wouldn't mind. They said they were hot too. It would be fine. The scraping of the door opening had interrupted your action, leaving your uniform top half-buttoned.

König's hands grasped at the straps of his gear, and Ghost's eyes never left yours, even in your partial state of undress. It would be a lie if you said you didn't enjoy how affected the pair looked.

"Echo, what are you doing?" König's voice sounded strained and low, and the rasp went straight through you.

"'It's hot." You whined, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. The animal was circling now - you were toying with your prey. Teasing it.

"Yeah, we, uh," König cleared his throat. "We know it's hot. It's- scheiße, it's intolerable." He looked seriously uncomfortable, and Ghost's silence wasn't helping to ease your tension. "The gas we were sprayed with was a... Drug, of sorts."

A drug? That's what this mystery enemy was hiding in the middle of nowhere?

"In short, the drug was being tested for use for the purpose of..." He hesitated, struggling to find the words he was looking for, and König only seemed to get more nervous as he was met silence.

"Repopulation. Dying country." Ghost finally spoke up, and you just barely caught his eyes flicking down to the exposed skin of your chest before they met yours again. "The heat, that feeling that you've got - that we've all got - it won't go away. Not unless we-" He took a stuttering breath, his hands clasped together. "Complete the objective."

The tension in silence combined with the way they were staring at you, it's like they were expecting you to blow up any second. König was clearly nervous, his eyes jumped between you and the floor, and Ghost's eyes were unreadable. The creature that was clawing at your throat, circling König and Ghost, begging you to give the command - was now uncontrollable.

This would be easy.

"Ghost, does König look... scared to you?" You could barely recognize your own voice. That low, purring tone was unrecognizable. Ghost blinked, taken aback by your question, before he snuck a glance over at the man beside him.

"He looks fuckin' terrified." He leaned against the desk, arms crossed against his chest.

"I don't know why. I don't bite. Do I look like I bite, Ghost?" You hopped off the table, talking to Ghost, but walking toward König, cocking your head to the side. A slight smile tugged at your lips when you approached him, stopping just before him.

"You might." Ghost was entertained, watching the way you toyed with the man in front of you, like you didn't have to crane your neck to look up at him. You weren't as tall as either one of them, but you had König wrapped around your finger.

König's chest was rising and falling rapidly, and the grip on his gear had tightened, threatening to snap the harness that clung to his torso.

"Do you want to find out, König?" You stretched out his name, the meaning of the word not lost on you. The heat inside you was growing stronger again, and the want was turning into pure need. You needed them, and this pull was unlike any other desire you've ever had.

Your hand reached up to the back of König's head, his eyes were wide as he made purposeful eye contact again, asking you one last time if this is what you wanted. His head leaned down next to yours, your lips next to his ear.

"I want you to find out." You whispered, and your low voice sending shivers down his spine was the breaking point for him. König ripped the earpiece out, and threw it on the ground before gripping your hips and pushing you back onto the table, his lips meeting yours aggressively. The grip he had on you was nearly bruising, but you didn't care. In fact, you wanted more. Your fingers twisted in König's hair, pulling him closer to you - you knew the sound of his moan would stay implanted in your brain forever.

When the back of your thighs met the table, his hands slid from your hips to the bottom of your thighs, sitting you on top of the table. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when you arched your chest into him, feeling his erratic breathing and the low vibrations of his groaning.

"God, please, König." Your voice was low and breathy, and the outline of his length against his pants was driving you absolutely crazy. A dark laugh interrupted your thought process, and you looked over to see Ghost watching you intently. König took this opportunity to start going in on your neck, leaving dark bruises in his path.

"You haven't even touched her, and she's still begging for it." Ghost's remark was snide, but you could barely focus past the feel of König unbuttoning your shirt in a frenzy, his hands shaking in the adrenaline. You glared at Ghost, your eyes half-lidded, and leaned back, giving König more access to your chest.

"If you want something, you're gonna have to speak up." Your tone matched his mockingly, and he rolled his eyes at you before flicking them back down at König pulling at your boots and tossing them... Somewhere? It didn't matter right now. Ghost cocked his head at you, his arms still tightly crossed around his chest.

"Could say the same for you, love." He pushed off the desk with his hip, your eyes following him until he walked behind you. Fuck. You wanted to keep looking at him. The feeling of König's mouth on you was gone, and when you looked down at him in irritation, his hands hovered above the belt of your pants, staring up at... Not you, but the figure that now stood behind you.

A gloved hand snaked its way around your neck, and fingers tilted your head back to see Ghost leaned over you, his gaze intense. You could see why people were intimidated by him now that he was standing above you, his chest rising and falling. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, and you finally got it.

They weren't your prey.

You were theirs.

#könig call of duty #könig x reader #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x könig x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod fanfic #female!reader

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v-o-i-d-e-d · 9 months

Note

May we have a oneshot based on this scene (https://youtube.com/watch?v=BgVJDd5vHfw&feature=share) for Spockxreader?

Omg, I love this scene! Of, course I will do it! I altered some parts just a little bit but the gist is the same. I hope you like it!

Title: Hello Sweetie

Pairing: Spock x fem!reader, implied platonic Jim Kirk x reader, and platonic Bones x reader

Warnings: canon violence, it's implied that Jim meddled for matchmaking purposes, nothing else I think

Word Count: 2924

She really shouldn’t have been here. Pure lunacy had gotten her here in the first place. Doctor (Y/N) (L/N) was never meant for this type of fieldwork and she was willing to bet that her own lack of skill was a huge reason why she was in this particularly dangerous situation. She was stood in the middle of a very ornate room – a sort of banquet hall she surmised – with her hands cuffed in front of her. Her elegant dress was singed at the hem and her hair had fallen out of its elegant updo. She looked around and noticed there were a total of three other people in the room all of whom wore heavy robes with hoods to obscure most of their faces: the alien guard beside her the one behind her and the one standing by the door they just came in through.

“You know when I get invited to parties, normally there’s food,” She said to the guard who stood closely to her right. He did not acknowledge her at all and his large, bug-like eyes stayed focused on the door at the other end of the room. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “So much for small talk.”

As she shifted her weight from foot to foot with impatience she couldn’t help but place partial blame on the genius who thought this plan up in the first place. Captain James T. Kirk. Just a day earlier he had cornered (Y/N) in her office and asked her to take part in a simple recognizance mission.

“I’m telling you this is an easy mission and it will go off without a hitch! You’re in, you’re out, you’re done,” Kirk pleaded as he followed her out into the main area of the medbay. He had just explained how it would be perfect for her because she was sociable and friendly. Of course, he couldn’t help but add in the added benefit of her good looks. “People will be spilling their guts to you! All you gotta do is bat those eyelashes.”

“Captain, this is harassment. I told you: missions like that are not in my job training.” (Y/N) turned to face Kirk and used her hand to apply emphasis to her statement. “I. Am. Not. Going. End of story.”

The door opened after what felt like hours but what was only a few minutes. (Y/N) watched as an alien that looked similar to the guard but larger walked confidently into the room accompanied by a few other guards. The big alien was dressed in fine clothes and had an elaborate and heavy-looking headdress on, signaling to (Y/N) that it would be good for her health to not piss him off. She stayed silent until the alien stood so close to her that she could smell him. He smelled of rotten meat and expensive oils.

“You are Doctor (Y/N) (L/N) of the starship Enterprise.” He said. “I have reason to believe you are a cohort of Commander Spock.”

This took (Y/N) by surprise. Her brows furrowed and her lips tugged into a frown. Sure she had worked with Spock plenty of times but surely not enough to be considered a cohort, or associated with him by name.

“I think there’s been some sort of mistake here. I don’t even know Commander Spock that well!”

“Spock suggested you specifically for the mission.”

(Y/N) paused and dropped her hand down to her side. Kirk could very well be lying just to get her to agree but then why else would he want a surgeon doing a spy’s job.

“No, he didn’t. You just want me to give in,” She huffed and gathered some old patient files that needed to be sorted and brushed passed Kirk and into her office. She couldn’t deny the rush of warmth spreading across her face but she could do her best at hiding it.

“I’m serious! He said you were beautiful and that you would be disarming enough to get people to talk to you about anything,” Kirk once again followed (Y/N) into her office but this time stopped to lean on the door frame. He crossed his arms and smirked as he watched the doctor deadpan at him.

“Commander Spock said that? Those exact words?” She didn’t believe Spock even knew how to actually compliment people, even behind their backs.

The alien huffed and one of his henchmen stepped forward. He was very scrawny and his large eyes darted wildly around the room.

“We have reliable intel that you are close to the Enterprise’s second-in-command and we would like you to divulge his whereabouts. We know that he has been trying to infiltrate our databases and that is a crime that can not go unpunished,” his voice was harsh, like a steaming tea kettle and (Y/N) winced.

“Well, I’m sorry but your intel is wrong. I wouldn’t even classify us as friends. Well, I mean it’s not that I don’t want to be his friend. I actually like him a lot but he spends just about every moment with me in silence or critiquing me so-“

“Enough! Quit your useless rambling and tell us where he is!” The boss alien thundered out so loud that the floor seemed to shake. (Y/N) was officially freaked out.

“Look, I’m telling you, I have no idea where he is! I don’t even know if he’s on this planet!” She pleaded with the aliens and hoped they believed her because it was the truth. She hadn’t seen Spock for a while, even before Kirk made her go on this mission.

“Yeah, he didn’t say those exact words but that’s definitely what he meant to say. I could tell.”

“Kirk, get out of my office.”

Kirk sighed and walked up to the desk, “Just please do this mission. We are so close to our goal we just need a little push. (Y/N)-

“Doctor (L/N).”

“(Y/N). Please.”

If there’s one thing that (Y/N) can’t resist, it’s James being sincere. It just happens so rarely that she caves right away. After a moment of glaring into Kirk’s pleading eyes, she rubbed her eyes and sighed, “Fine!”

“Yes!” Kirk pumped his fist in victory.

“But I want to talk to Spock first.”

Kirk paused and side-glanced before looking back at (Y/N), “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause he’s on the mission.”

“I thought you said he asked for me. How could he have told you that if he’s on mission already?” (Y/N) raised an accusatory eyebrow, she was sure she caught Kirk in his lie but he was quick.

“Because he just left this morning. Now find your hottest dress and meet me in the transport room for your briefing,” Kirk tapped the desk before quickly exiting the room.

“Wait, Now?!”

(Y/N) could honestly say she had not thought of how to get out of a situation like this. All attention was on her – something that she would normally thrive with – but she was at a loss for words for the first time in her life. The big alien grumbled and leaned forward to look closer at her face. She didn’t hide her fear.

“Look, I swear on my life I don’t know what Spock is doing or where he is,” She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice but she tried to be as firm as possible.

“Humans,” the alien spat, “They lie so blithely.”

“I’m not lying!”

“How can you claim to like someone but know nothing about them? You are lying!”

(Y/N) huffed and rolled her eyes, “Just because I like him does not mean he likes me! The guy does not even think that way! He doesn’t talk to me unless it has something to do with my job!” She had stepped forward during her rant but was immediately seized by the guards that were closest to her. They gripped tightly on her upper arms but the guard on her left quickly loosened his grip and she couldn’t help but think that the sensation was familiar. It reminded her of her first meeting with Commander Spock.

She was in a hurry to get to the medbay as she had been sent a 9-1-1 message by Bones. In her hurry she had been completely disregarding the safety of other people in the halls, bumping into several people while shouting an apology over her shoulder. It was while she was giving one of these hurried apologies that she managed to bump into a solid form that barely stumbled while she went tripping toward the ground. With a yelp, she braced for the ground but was stopped by a strong hand taking hold of her upper arm.

“Doctor (L/N), it’s not safe to be running through the halls. The hazard is amplified when one is not paying attention.”

The monotone voice of Commander Spock caused (Y/N) to snap her eyes open and scramble to stand on her own two feet rather than being suspended by her arm.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Commander! You’re totally right, I wasn’t paying attention-“

“Apology accepted, Doctor,” Spock interrupted her rambling and then walked passed her without waiting for a response. (Y/N) huffed and frowned as she too walked away from the scene of the social crime.

“Well, isn’t he a sweetie,” She grumbled before picking up her pace through the halls, this time paying attention to where she was going.

From then on, “sweetie” was (Y/N)’s nickname for Spock. She was careful to never say it to his face since she had worked with him a lot more since the “incident” but in private and amongst friends, the sarcastic endearment rolled easily off the tongue. It got to the point where she even used it with the Captain.

“Why do you call him that, it’s weird,” Kirk questioned one day over drinks in the lounge.

“Because every time I talk to him, he’s an asshole. I think it’s funny.”

Kirk laughed and sipped his whiskey. “Well, I think you might have a crush on our favorite Vulcan.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” (Y/N) was very direct. Kirk choked on his drink in surprise and coughed as (Y/N) continued, “But that’s out of the equation because I don’t even think Spock thinks about anyone unless they’re useful for something he needs doing.”

(Y/N) downed the last of her drink and shook her head to try to rid herself of the floaty state the alcohol put her in. In the morning, she would regret letting James Kirk in on her best-kept secret but she was not worried about that or anything else except for going to bed.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Kirk said with a smirk. Spock walked in with his hands clasped behind his back and his usual blank expression. Upon noticing the state of his friend and his colleague he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh, hello, sweetie!” (Y/N) laughed at her own words and Kirk couldn’t help but laugh as well. Spock was stunned into silence. He let his hands drop to his sides and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He didn’t know exactly how to respond, she had never called him anything other than his name and rank before. He decided to ignore the sudden endearment.

“Captain, you’re needed on the bridge,” He managed to finally say what he needed to say before quickly turning and leaving the room.

When Kirk took the liberty of retelling the story to (Y/N) the next morning, she was mortified.

The large alien hisses to one of his henchmen in a language (Y/N) doesn’t understand and then another one of them steps forward. In a tone that seemed to be unsure of the words he was saying, he started,

“Our studies show that typically when one human likes another, the feeling is reciprocated,”

“Spock is not human,” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh before correcting herself, “Well, not all human.”

“Then you have no reason to protect him.”

“That’s not how feelings even work! Not human ones! I admire him and I will protect him but I do not expect any such action from him. Just as I don't expect a sunset to admire me back or for the stars to gaze back at me! Feelings are not about reciprocity!”

“This does not align with our intel,” The big alien was clearly angry, and (Y/N) had a strong feeling that things would not go well from here but as she said she would do her best to protect Spock.

“Regardless of your intel,” (Y/N) scoffed, “Commander Spock has much more important things to do than worry about me or what I’m doing so. I’m of no use to you. Let me go.”

Why did she never know when to shut up?

The large alien’s face stretched into what (Y/N) had to assume was his version of a grin but looked more like he was preparing to eat her. She wouldn’t doubt it if she was being honest.

“If you are of no use for giving information, you can be put to other uses, Doctor.”

“What? Wait!”

The guard to her right started to lead her back toward the door they came through and (Y/N) began to struggle.

“Take her to the nursery, the larvae must be fed,” The big alien ordered with a loud cracking laugh. Just as (Y/N) yanked harshly away from the guard pulling her, the guard to her left took firm hold of her arm once more but instead of leading her forward, he tugged her back into him. Suddenly, he pulled a phaser and shot the other guard. Crying out in fear, (Y/N) struggled once more to get away from this rogue guard as the henchmen began to make their way over to stop him. The guard removed his hood and revealed his face.

“Commander!” (Y/N) gasped and her cheeks reddened. Everyone paused for a brief moment of shock before the big alien roared for his henchmen and guards to seize the two star fleet officers. Spock shot a few more before looking down at (Y/N) with an almost unnoticeable smirk.

“Hello, Sweetie,” He said before moving his grip from (Y/N)’s arm to her hand and pulling her to a run. (Y/N)’s face was warm and it was not because of the running. She couldn’t help but laugh as they ran through the corridors, dodging phasers and guards. “We have to get to the front entrance. That’s the only place Scotty can beam us up!” Spock shouted over his shoulder.

“Right!”

They ran until they reached the front room. Standing in the middle of the room was not the best option but they were only there for a moment before they both felt the familiar feeling of being beamed up to the transport room. Upon their arrival, Spock immediately ushered (Y/N) toward the awaiting Doctor Bones.

“I’m fine! Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing I haven’t had before,” (Y/N) tried to wave the grouchy Doctor away but he swatted her hands away and then removed the cuffs.

“I’ll be the judge of that, cupcake. You look like you caught on fire.” He was gesturing to the hem of her dress.

“I think for a moment I did,” (Y/N) laughed while Bones shook his head.

“All right, you’re free to go. You too, Spock.”

Bones finally released the two, though he had told Spock that he could leave about twenty minutes ago. The Vulcan had refused. Spock and (Y/N) walked side by side in silence for a while before Spock broke it.

“You have misread me.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at her Commander who was still looking straight ahead. “What do you mean, Commander?”

“My feelings about you. You have misread them.”

Her eyes widened. In the chaos of escape, she had forgotten that Spock was standing right next to her when she basically saying she loved him. Okay, slight exaggeration but she still felt embarrassed.

“Oh.” That was all she said. All she could say. Another time of silence passed.

“I apologize if my actions suggested that I do not enjoy your company,” Spock was deliberate with his words as if he didn’t know if what he was saying was the right thing. The tips of his ears were tinged a faint green when he finally paused in his step to look at (Y/N). She noticed the blush on his ears and couldn’t help the small smile that snuck onto her face.

“So, you like to hang out with me?”

“Well, I’ve never accompanied you in a social setting so it would be illogical for me to say that I like something that I have not tried.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“However, I do enjoy working with you. You are very good at your job, Doctor (L/N),” Spock clasped his hands behind his back so that (Y/N) would not see him picking at his cuticles. He was nervous.

“(Y/N).”

“Pardon?”

“Call me (Y/N). Outside of work obviously,” (Y/N) shrugged and looked away from Spock’s intense gaze.

“(Y/N).” She could’ve melted at the way her name sounded coming from his lips. It was experimental and a bit rigid sounding but it was a start. She finally looked back into Spock’s eyes and smiled brightly.

“Do you want to go get dinner with me, Spock? I’m starving,” (Y/N) resumed her walk, this time in the direction of the cafeteria. She heard Spock’s steps fall in line with hers.

“I highly doubt that you are starving. You always attend normal meal times which means you must have eaten this morning,” Spock said in a matter-of-fact tone. (Y/N) laughed and shook her head.

“It’s an expression, Spock.”

#Spock x reader #AOS Spock #Star Trek #Jim Kirk #Enterprise #xreader #SpockxYou #Doctor who reference #Spock Imagine

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lovebeatriceplz · 3 months

Text

✧ Late night conversations ✧

Finnick x Fem!reader

You twist and then turn, squeezing your eyes tighter. Maybe if you could fake it you'd eventually fall asleep. After adjusting your hard pillow again, and a few more twist and turns you jump out of the bed in frustration.

The quarter quell and the rebellion has been a big adjustment to you. District 13 being an even bigger one. Of course no one knew that. You had a reputation, always staying strong for everyone else, always quick thinking and on your feet, always solving problems... that's what people knew you as. There is always one person, just one person who can't seem to mind their own business, who always seems to know what's really going. And to be honest, you needed that right now. Someone who would allow you to rest for a moment and be vulnerable, someone like Finnick.

Finnick! Before your mind processes anything your feet are moving, walking with uncertainty at first, then a light jog, then your zipping through the doors, hallway to hallway. Where the hell is he? When you actually need him you can't find him. You stop running and you walk around aimlessly, restless. You come across a room that you don't remember seeing. You slowly peek your head through and a light chuckle catches your attention. "Don't princesses need their beauty sleep" Finnick says playfully, his voice filling up the empty room.

Your eyes dart across the room, it looks really old, but very spacious, like it used to have different levels. Finnicks eyes follow yours "it used to be a library". "A library?" You say as you sub - consciously walk towards him. "Yup" he replies, scooting over, giving you space to sit beside him. "So....what exactly are you doing here, so late" you ask him. "I could ask you the same thing" he says with a chuckle, though it lacked his usual humourous charm, he looks tired. You don't respond, you look anywhere but at him, scared that he might be able to tell what's going on in your head. "Look at me" the sudden urgency in his tone startles you and you refuse to comply. "I know why your here, can't sleep? Needed someone to talk to?" His speech goes back to the soft tone your used to. "Yeah.." you muster out. He shifts closer to you until he's satisfied with your proximity, your knees touching, directly infront of each other. "Me too" he says quietly. You're not surprised "nightmares?" Hoping that you weren't crossing any boundaries by asking. "No actually" he replies "just too much things to think about, my mind can't rest, so neither can i" he responds with a sigh. "I'm guessing that's happening to you too?" He says it like a statement and not a question which makes you feel the need to be guarded. "Um no...no no that's not why...not why I'm here i was just checking up on everyone" you reply, avoiding his gaze. What the hell were you doing? Didn't you want to be vulnerable? Isn't this why you came looking for him in the first place?.

The look that he gives you makes your heart skip a beat. "Don't you get tired of it" he says with unwavering eyes. You know you shouldn't answer, you know that once you acknowledge it there's no going back. "Tired of what?" You respond, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. His hand reaches out, fingers curling behind your ear and it sends shudder through your body. " Don't do that" your voice no more than a whisper, "don't you get tired of taking care of everyone" his fingers moves along you face, your eyes flutter close. "aren't you tired of pretending everything is fine when it's not?" His fingers now under your chin, your eyes aren't open but you can feel him moving closer. "Who are you hiding from?" A finger grazes over your lips which causes your heart to pound in your ears. You can't see but he's close, you can feel his breath and you almost believe that he's going to kiss you. "Look at me" his tone is laced with a hint of desperateness, but still, you just can't seem to do it, or face him. The warmth leaves your face as he pulls back with a sigh. You slowly open your eyes, looking over to the side. He's silent for a long time and you can't help but feel a bit guilty, wondering if you hurt his feelings. You feel his warm hand slip under yours and you look up. He's not looking at you but his fingers slowly interlock with yours and it makes you feel better.

You break the silence "do you think we'll get him back?" There it is, you're cracking, saying things you wouldn't dare allow to escape your mouth. He looks over to you. "Who?" He answers the question before you can respond "peeta?". You nod. His thumb runs over you knuckles in a comforting manner. "I mean- i hope we do" he pauses and looks at you with a slightly worried look "have you been thinking about it?" He asks. His eyes lock onto yours and you feel the walls cracking. How could you lie to this pretty face, if you weren't careful he would have you wrapped around his finger, spilling all of your little secrets to this man. "I've been thinking about everything Finnick" you admit "I'm fine though". That last part doesn't seem to reach him "thinking about everything yeah?" His gaze flickers back to your hands in his "what about me?" . You could have sworn that there was a slight waver to his voice, why was he looking down again?. A smile tugs at your lips "what? What about you?". He almost looked... offended?. "W-what about me? C'mon you know what I'm asking you, don't play dumb" his eyebrows furrowed and the frown playing on his face makes the situation funny. You shrug "i don't follow, i thought we were talking about peeta-"

He grabs you by your arms, causing a jolt of electricity to course through you. His lips are basically touching your ear and you can feel the warmth radiating off him. "You know what I'm talking about princess" his voice dropping to a low, husky sound "I'm talking about me, you said you've been thinking about everything....what about me?" His grip loosens and he pulls back to see you face. "Well have you?" This was so odd, he almost sounded like he was begging for your attention. You let out a shaky exhale "all the time" his lips curl up in smile but he quickly suppresses it. For the first time in a long time you felt open and vulnerable, but it didn't make scared. He felt it too, you could see, you could feel it. He reaches out a begins to caress your face again. He moves closer and closer, and closer. "Would you think I'm crazy...if i said i felt something for you". His voice is so raw with emotion, so unlike his cocky, teasing routine. You can't help but laugh and you bring your hands to your forehead "yes, I'd say your completely mad" leaning into his warmth until your noses are touching. He chuckles, hands sneaking around your waist "well...would you still think about me anyways?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Everyday" . His lips barely brush against yours, but none of you do anything. The tension in the room was so thick, what was he waiting for?. That's when you remember how vulnerable he's been, you can't help but feel that this finnick is the real Finnick, you can't help but wonder if he's scared. So you reassure him, moving an inch closer, and with that closing the small gap. His lips lock with yours. You feel your heart racing and blood running through your body but it felt good.He pulls you closer, until your bodies as pressed against each other. His hands interlock with you hair and your fingers curl against his chest. His lips and demeanor were gentle and slow , but the longing was there. It's crazy how this decides to happen when the world is literally at war. He breaks the kiss to catch his breath. His face flushed, and exact replica of your state.

"W-" you're cut off by him kissing you again, taking control this time. The kiss has more energy and he deepens it. You grip on to his shirt, wanting him closer. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt as your lips move in unison. Cold fingertips slip under your shirt, tracing the skin of your bare back and giving you goosebumps all over. His tongue darts out, begging to get just a taste. And how could you refuse this Greek god of a man hm?. The kiss intensifies and you begin to feel lost in the feeling of his touch. You're the one that has to pull away this time. "What were you saying?" His breathing was heavy. "Don't leave" the only thing on your mind was him, and his lips. He smiles and pulls you into him to place a kiss on your nose. "You said you couldn't sleep right?" He says as he begins to stand up, taking you with him in the process. You nod "not a wink"

"Let's fix that"

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ballblender · 11 months

Text

“One bed!?"

Kagami Taiga x Manager!Reader

(Saw a list of generic romance tropes and couldn’t help myself)

cw: sfw, fluff + comedy (except i’m not funny), timeskip match predictions, kagami being an awkward giant, the one bed trope, aged up (kagami and reader are both 18 after the interhigh), manga ending (kagami stays in japan in the manga, unlike the movie)

The last two years were, a lot to say the least. Not only had the Vorpal Swords taken off shortly after the match against Jabberwock, but with the permanent addition of Kagetora as manager of the Seirin basketball team, Kagami had a lot on his plate.

It was difficult when the second, or should I say third, years graduated. The reliance and foundation built between them was one not easily replaced. Additionally, despite the newfound popularity of the team, it stayed relatively small. Inevitably, this led to Seirin’s defeat in the Interhigh.

With the Winter Cup in sight, he really just wanted to feel that glory again, winning with his old Serin teammates.

And he did, thanks to your help. As a younger friend of Riko, you had asked to be the manager for Seirin after hearing of their loss in the Interhigh, and given your friendship with their old coach, the team was in no position to refuse your offer.

And upon seeing the results that your suggestions produced, they were ready to keep you by any means possible.

By the time the Winter Cup came around, it was as if Seirin was a new team entirely; their coordination and plays were extremely effective against teams of any caliber, and the bonds between the members ensured their success.

It was also because of this display that Kagami found himself becoming increasingly drawn to you, for reasons made clear to him by Kuroko.

"You like her don't you?"

"WHAT? I DO NOT- i do."

"Yeah, I thought so."

And so the saga began. Kagami would start to grow more and more awkward around you. This caused a bit of a problem, as you began to think that he was getting sidetracked, and as the most powerful player on the team, causing the other players efforts to go to waste slightly.

It only got worse when you took him to the side to speak with him alone, and expressed your concern for his lack of concentration. He just stuttered and wasn't sure how to respond.

"Kagami, I seriously need you to listen to me..."

"I-i understand...I'll do m-my best for you and the team."

Out of nowhere, you hugged him tightly, which caught him completely off guard.

"I'm glad you understand..."

After practice that day, Kagami felt so light.

The night before the final against Rakuzan, the team, thanks to the school's newly increased budget (and a little pocket change from Riko), decided to stay at a nearby hotel with a gym so that they could get some morning training in before the big game.

However, upon arrival at the front desk, you ran into a problem.

"B-but I swear I booked 7 rooms..."

"I'm sorry, but there are only 6 listed here..."

You sigh.

"Are there any rooms available?"

"Yes, however there is only one bed opposed to the three in the other 6."

"...it's fine, i'll take it, sorry for the trouble, and thank you."

You walk over to the lobby, where the other members are waiting to get into their rooms.

"What took so long? Was there a problem with our rooms?" Kuroko asks.

"There was actually...so one of you will have to stay with me in a different roo-"

"Kagami will do it."

"K-Kuroko! Don't just say that!" Kagami whisper-yells, face turning redder each word.

The other members shrug in agreement, wanting to be in their own shared rooms to be able to freely discuss whatever they wanted without the eyes of their manager watching over them.

Kagami learns pretty quickly that trying to fight is useless. It's adorable, you think to yourself. The team heads up to their block of rooms, while you and Kagami take a different route to your room.

It looks like you forgot to tell him one detail though...

"One bed!?"

"Yeah, I hope that's okay... Unless any of the other guys let you sleep with them in their beds, we have to share."

Before you can even utter another word, Kagami is zooming across the hotel to the other players' rooms, knocking on each door.

Unfortunately for Kagami, with his size comes consequences. None of the other players wanted to share their already small beds with the biggest player on their team, even Kuroko.

"Y/N is smaller than me, sharing a bed should be no issue for the two of you." Kuroko states.

Kagami just lies on the floor, burying his red face in his hands.

"gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

A knock on the door is heard by the others, and they open the door.

"Hey, have you guys seen Kaga- oh, there he is."

At the sound of your voice, Kagami springs up, wiping the dust and lint off of himself.

"Y-Y/N! I-i..."

Knowing that letting him resist and even just speak anymore would result in Kagami most likely passing out, Kuroko says,

"Kagami was just about to go back to your room, he just needed to borrow some deodorant. He's forgetful like that."

Kagami shoots Kuroko a death-glare, in a way that screams "Are you my wingman or what!?"

You nod in acknowledgement and turn to Kagami, smiling "That's okay, just get back soon!"

The moment you leave,

"Ow-ow-ow...what was that for...?" says Kuroko, Kagami's hands digging into his shoulders.

Kagami just stares at him with desperate eyes.

"Come on Kuroko...let me stay with you..."

"That's perfect, say that to Y/N and you guys will be dating in no time."

"...You're the worst..."

You lay on the bed, sprawled out, tapping through all of the outdated TV channels logged into the hotel's TV. (a/n needed to add this to rant: WHY ARE ALL HOTEL ROOM TV CHANNELS OLD AND PIXELATED IT DRIVES ME INSANE)

"...G-got any room for me...?"

You spring up in shock, and notice Kagami standing at the door, blushing like mad, avoiding eye contact.

You roll to the side and pat the other half meant for Kagami.

"I guess the others didn't let you sleep in their beds."

"...y-yeah..." Kagami squeaks, as he feels your shoulder touch his.

You, of course, are not oblivious to his feelings. It was bugging you that Kagami seemingly avoided you whenever you tried to talk to him, but the rosy cheeks and unintentional voice cracks whenever he'd try to talk to you.

May as well see where this goes...

You intentionally brush your thigh up against his under the guise of reaching for the remote on the other side.

"...ah..."

You giggle, noticing his tiny sounds. It's truly unbelievable that such a big player's demeanour can be reduced to a mouse's under the right circumstances.

"Hm? What's wrong?" you ask, though, you know exactly what you're doing to him.

"..."

You decide to let it go, especially since Kagami looks like he'd explode if you pestered him any longer.

As the time passes, you decide to ask Kagami, "Are you ready to sleep now?"

He was trying his best until this point, he was. But the thing he'd been...dreading? Anticipating? Whatever it was, he was not prepared.

The moment you switch off the lights, you're met with Kagami's arms hugging you tightly.

"K-Kagami what-"

"...please..."

It's warm. His embrace makes you feel safe. You decide not to speak again, and instead, you both fall asleep, comforted by each other's warmth.

-----

sorry this is out so late LOL

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko tetsuya #kagami taiga #kagami x reader #knb x reader #knb fluff #kuroko no basuke #kurobas

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chvnnie · 10 months

Text

Letter One: Smoke and Tears

Love Letters Series Page

wc: 2.7k

genre: angst

warnings: apocalypse au, creature feature, use of weapons (guns), alcohol - brief, injuries (gunshot wounds, though no details), fire. I believe that's all, but if I missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW

summary: It's been over a week since you've heard from Chan, and the guilt is burning him alive.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents the stray kids members as people, or as a whole. you are responsible of the media you consume. please read responsibly.

series taglist: @straystayvlive, @fawnpeaks, @strayingawayy, @almighty-obsession, @ershyni, @chai-papa, @moon0fthenight, @djeniryuu — comment to be added

Hey, you.

I know I promised to write sooner. There has been a lot happening and while I sat down with my notebook daily, fully intending to respond to your last letter, something forced my attention away. I’m so fucking sorry it took me this long. I haven’t been very good about keeping my promise, have I?

I promise to change that. Actually. There’s no excuse for missing that week window like I did. And it will never happen again.

We got to the south side of town seven days ago. It was difficult leaving midtown, but staying there wasn’t practical. On top of all the haunting reminders, it started to get overrun. Rather than cling to the past, desperate to keep it despite its death, we chose to leave.

The journey south only took us a day or so, but was relatively easy. Jisung cried the entire first day, walking further behind us than we would have preferred. The change has been the hardest for him — he really hasn’t settled in yet here. I’m scared he never will.

But other than that, there really weren’t many hiccups. I was feeling optimistic; we hadn’t had this good of a journey probably since the start of it all. No injuries, no misplaced anger. Simply doing what we needed to survive.

We even found a bunker within the day of arrival, saving us the risk of camping out in the open. A tall, abandoned building. I think it used to be an office. The cubicles have been nice. You know how limited privacy is now, so we take what we can get. It was easy to barricade all the exits, and our walkies actually work here (that was the one thing about midtown I despised). There’s even a kitchen! God, what a luxury. Truly, it seemed like a long term place.

Until day four.

There’s only two entries to the office; the front and the fire escape. It was Seungmin’s night to guard the front, Hyunjin at the back. I sat in the long conference room with Jisung — the window faces the street. It’s a good lookout. All was quiet, as it had been so far. I pulled out my journal fully intending to write to you.

That’s when Jisung gasped, pulling his binoculars from his face and hitting me to grab my attention. I grabbed my own, and followed where he was pointing. No, it wasn’t what you’re expecting.

“Are those people?” Jisung had asked me.

My vision isn’t bad, but even I had to squint. He was right; though the group wasn’t big, it was obvious by the way they were walking.

By the torches they were holding.

For a while, we just watched. But I don’t think it was from lack of entertainment, rather sheer shock. The torches were touching homes, old buildings, flames blossoming at high speeds and dancing in the night sky. Screaming for attention, begging the Nots to come find them. To find all of us.

The south side isn’t safe. Though the word has spread, I can tell you my love, that I’ve never feared I wouldn’t see you again until we broke into this god forsaken office building.

Jisung had a window cracked, the perfect amount of space for his sniper to slip through. He was up and at the gun before I could fully process what was happening.

“I have a shot.” He says within seconds, the cracked circular glasses fogging up. “At one. I could take at least three out—“

“Don’t.” I said, adjusting the binoculars to get a better view. Twelve people, I counted. All around our age, a mix of men and women. Each of them laughed as they turned the earth to ash. “Wait.”

“Chan, we need to act now.” He’s getting ready. I can tell. Tongue between his teeth, digging until the muscle breaks into a tiny cut, blood slowly filling his mouth. “They’re headed our way.”

He’d give away our location, I explained. The group isn’t close enough to be a danger. We need to wait, to see if there's a motive behind the destruction. Humanity is all united against the dark — there has to be a purpose behind this betrayal.

Jisung wasn’t happy with me. Between forcing him from midtown and now this, I feared that night that if we didn’t lose our lives, I’d lose one of my most trusted friends. Still, he didn’t shoot, following the one we picked as the leader with his gun. Ready in case the okay was given.

It didn’t take long for me to allow it. I don’t want our letters to just be about the horrors we’re facing. The suffering of being apart. So I will spare you the details of what made me allow the shot, and death of these twelve people.

We didn’t see the thirteenth until it was too late. Until the makeshift cross was pitched in the center of the burning homes, the screams of this man were loud enough to wake the dead. In a world where everything has been taken from us, our lives forced apart, something I believe we all deserve is safety.

Except for the twelve. While I mourned the man, I was delighted to watch the fire claim its creators.

The rest of the night was quiet. Jisung and I sat in silence as we watched other refugees extinguish the flames, sharing a can beer we had been shaving. The luxury felt needed after what we had witnessed.

His hair has gotten long. I think you’d really like it; it’s charming, especially when he ties in a little half pony. The cut on his cheek I mentioned in my last letter has healed nicely; Seungmin is getting better at his stitch work. The stars weren’t visible that night, but with the moonlight that pooled in from the windows, his eyes made you think there were.

After he took a sip of the beer, his face twisted in disgust. “This is rancid.”

It made me laugh, the dramatic way he stuck out his tongue as he searched for the water jug. “I think it might be a little expired.”

“Oh? You think?”

“If you want to be a bitch, then I’ll just finish it off.”

God. I wish you could have seen the way he smiled, or could have felt the warmth that filled my chest at the sight of it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Jisung smile like that. He even laughed, which made me do the same even though my eyes were burning from smoke and tears.

I volunteered to keep watch the next few nights, though it didn’t come without push back. I said I wasn’t tired, though the truth is that I didn’t want to subject the rest of them to the suffering happening outside this building. They’ve had it hard enough, and I don’t want to add to their burden.

Day five, Felix and Changbin went out to find supplies. We made a list — things we needed, things we wanted. If a luxury could be stolen, it should be. Felix had the paper, smiling brightly at me when I gave it to him.

I never expected to hear his sobs mere hours later. Head on Hyunjin’s lap as Seungmin tended to the wound he had gotten while they were at a store. They ran into a group of humans, they said. In the same building, though at the other side. While Changbin kept his gun drawn, they agreed to ignore them. That’s just what you do — let others survive.

Until they saw them. And laughed, laughed, laughed when they shot Felix in the thigh. Changbin’s voice trembled when he described the group of people. Jisung looked at me, face expressionless but eyes wide.

There were more than twelve.

Superficial, Seungmin said. He was able to remove the bullet and tend to the wound. Felix would be okay, other than the limp he’s sure to suffer long term.

“Charming, in a way.” Seungmin joked, but it made Lix laugh. Exactly what we all wanted; if he loses his sunshine, what’s the point?

We were blessed with day six. Nothing happened. Literally — Jeongin even started to nod off at his position. The day was spent playing cards or huddling around the beat up radio. Hyunjin started a mural on one of the walls, the colors bringing us the joy we so desperately needed.

I spent the day in one of the empty conference rooms. Sitting under the window, thumbing through the photo book you gave me. Remember that day we went to the movies to see some cheesy Christmas movie? You hated it, mocking it the entire time just to get teary eyed at the end. In the parking lot, you hit me with a snowball and how was I to let that slide? I love that photo of you, drenched in water and snow, laughing as you build another snowball.

I flipped through it over and over, happily losing myself in the worlds tucked in those glossy photos. Though everything in the world is meeting a fiery end, you are the one constant. The driving force behind my survival, behind the protection of the others. Without you, I would succumb to the flame. Life is not worth living without you, even if all I have is letters and memories.

Fire may take your words, though it will never take my heart.

That day would have been a wonderful one to write. But instead I spent it reading your letters, tracing the characters of your name. How does it look so lovely? How do you make words beautiful? I spent it looking at your pictures, bringing the album to my nose and inhaling deeply. It still has faint hints of the home we shared together. Do you think we might be able to return one day? Even if not, it won’t matter. I just want you.

But closer. We are getting closer, and closer to getting to you. It’s taken more time than I would have liked, but the apocalypse doesn’t really like making time for people. By the time you read this, we’ll have left the south side. Step by step, closer to you.

I miss the way you kiss me. The way your lips feel against my body. I miss your breath tangling with mine like the snow colored sheets we used to lay upon. I miss inhaling you, breathing you. The way your breath would hitch when you’re surprised, when you feel good. The little huffs of air your face before laughing your heart out.

Fuck. I need to hear that sound again. The cassette tape you sent me isn’t enough anymore. I need you.

I fell asleep in that office, your letters pressed to my chest. And when I dreamed, it was only of you. Watching the smoke hand and hand.

The sixth day, yesterday, the Nots arrived.

We watched as they entered the town; boney backs arched, long nails scraping the streets. Their horrible squeals were almost piercing, even with our windows shut. It’s always so chilling to see them; the remains of humanity lingering on their morphed bodies. Slowly, they slink down the street. Sniffing for any signs of life.

Felix was tucked in one of the bathrooms with Seungmin, a walkie turned on loud. If we needed to go, it needed to be fast — which left Hyunjin packing our belongings as Changbin, Jisung, and I stood in the very same conference room where we first saw the twelve.

“They look rough.” Changbin comments, leaning against the window. He had been keeping watch on the front entrance; even though Jeongin and Minho were standing guard. A warning would be valued. “They’re hungry.”

Jisung gagged at the word, cleaning his glasses with the sleeve of his sweater. “Fucking gross, don’t say that—“

“Why do you think they’re so loud? They’re getting desperate.”

At this point, I realized my optimism was playing a part in my downfall. Even as I watched the crowd of Nots scavenge the debris, looking in trash cans and behind fences, I could only think about how lucky we were to be so high up. They couldn’t touch us, tucked away on the fifth floor of the building.

The lookout walkie gave a crackling noise before Minho’s voice cut through; clear, measured, even though his tone was obviously frantic.

“Breach at the fire escape.” He says quickly.

I picked up our walkie. “Do you hear anything?”

It felt like a century before he responded, all of us holding our breath as we waited. The silence was more chilling than the shrill squawks below. It’s one we all know too well; they’ve found prey. I can only hope it isn’t us.

Minho clicks back on, and I realize it was naive of me to be scared of the Nots. “Laughter.”

The room began to spin, my ears void of all sound except the sound of laughter. Louder and louder it, closer and closer to our floor. The most horrible melody, leaving the bitter taste of blood in my mouth as my body feels like it’s melting.

They have flames.

“Seungmin, take Felix out the front.” I clicked in, trying to stay as calm as possible. “Now, hurry—“

“The Nots are out.” Changbin says, eyes bouncing from the direction of the fire escape to the window. “They’re not going to make it.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Jisung mumbles, opening a window to set his gun up. He squints one eye, tracking the creatures with the barrel of his gun. “I’ll take out as many as I can.”

It was a lose/lose. No matter which exit we took, the risk was high. But something in my gut told me that we rather deal with the Nots than whatever is making that bloodcurdling laugh.

“How close are they, Minho?”

The silence is a beat too long. “Too close. We need to fucking go.”

There wasn’t much more than needed to be said. By the time Jisung had shot down a good number of Nots, the laughter was accompanied by banging. Slow, hollow knocks. Their fists were hitting the door.

And then came the heat.

The flames grew slowly from under the metal door, dancing on the worn out carpet. By the time we were rushing down the main staircase, it had already enveloped the room I had slept in. Where I had dreamed of you.

If it weren’t for Jisung, we probably wouldn’t have been able to escape as easily as we did. Hurdling over twitching bodies of Nots, we kept our gaze ahead. Running past the cross, ducking behind remains of buildings. I don’t know how long we ran for until we came across an empty convenience store. Changbin pushed a stand against the door after we cleared it. Boxing ourselves in temporary shelter.

At the window, Jisung stood. Arms crossed, watching the smoke tangle with the clouds. He heard me coming, yet didn’t even look up at me. “I told you we should have never left the mid.”

He didn’t sleep last night. Neither did I.

We are leaving the store pretty soon. Seungmin is checking on Felix’s wound, Changbin and Minho mapping out a new route as I write. We’re heading east this time. I’m not sure when we will stop yet.

But east means we’re closer to you.

I’m mailing the letter today, too. According to the calendar we’ve been keeping, it’s now August 23. The heat has been sweltering here — how is it there, for you? Probably that much different, but you’re further north than us. I can only hope a cool fall breeze will greet us when I meet you again.

I picked a new spot for you to send your letter as our location has changed — I’ll attach a map to this and check it daily. I know we’ll be in that area for a while, so send there for now. Hopefully we won’t have to flee again, but I won’t be too optimistic this time.

The world may be on fire, but so is my love for you (hahahahaha). But truly, if it weren’t for you, the apocalypse wouldn’t seem so bearable.

Stay safe, my love. I’m coming home soon.

Forever yours,

Chan

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criminalamnesia · 2 years

Text

Matchmaker (part three)

warnings: no use of Y/N, not proofread, she/her pronouns used, I have no knowledge of hunting or shooting a bow so forgive me, part three of a miniseries (part one here!)

summary: The hunt begins.

author’s note: forgive me for my lack of knowledge of shooting a bow, I tried my best lol. But enjoy!

You awoke early the next day, as you always did. You were still situated in that old, rickety wooden chair. You groaned as you stretched your arms above your head, your stiff bones clicking in protest. You wiped sleep from your eyes before standing and instantly setting to work; stripping yourself of yesterday’s clothes in favor of a fresh gown; brushing your horribly tangled hair; putting your own thoughts on the backburner of your mind as you thought of what you needed to do for Rhaenyra.

Minutes later, you were quietly shutting the door to your chambers as you began down the hall. It was still a little dark outside as the sun just began to peek over the horizon, and you wished you could stop for one moment just to take in the sunrise- but you had no time.

You passed a handful of servants as you made your way to Rhaenyra’s rooms. It may have been early, but the servants around the keep never slept. Even when the royalty went to bed, they were up washing pots and pans, preparing breakfast, folding laundry- all duties that never ended.

You nodded at them as you passed, and they nodded in return. By the time you made it to Rhaenyra’s door, you were awake enough to wish the guard standing watch a good morning. He nodded in return as you raised a hand to knock one, twice on Rhaenyra’s door before pushing it open enough to slip into the room.

She was still in bed, unsurprisingly. It would probably have given you a heart attack if she hadn’t been. Rhaenyra had never been a morning person, and she wasn’t likely to start being one any time soon.

“Good morning, Princess,” you called to her as you neared the drapes obscuring her windows. Rhaenyra grumbled as you pulled the drapes to the side, allowing the now fully-risen sun to enter the room.

“‘Oh, good morning to you too, my lady! I’m so happy to see you,’” you teased in your best impression of Rhaenyra’s voice, earning an even louder groan from the Princess.

You rolled your eyes with love as you approached her bed, reaching down to pull the covers away from her grip. She did not fight you- she let them go willingly, although she certainly voiced her objections.

“Please, can’t I just go back to sleep?” She whined, to which you tsked. You turned away from her then, heading to her wardrobe to pull out her attire for the day.

Today was the day you were to leave for Aegon’s name day hunt- which you guessed is why Rhaenyra seemed even more reluctant to leave her bed than usual. As you turned back to her bed, you saw that she had once again pulled up her covers, covering even her head with them. You sighed, gently laying her outfit on a nearby table before approaching her.

“Rhaenyra,” you spoke gently, with just a touch of scolding. “You must get up. We are to leave soon for the hunt. You cannot miss it, no matter how much you wish you could.”

“Do you think my father will believe you if you tell him I’ve fallen ill?” She asked, her voice slightly muffled from under the covers.

“Yes.” You replied.

“Really?” Her voice was a tad hopeful.

“No.” You deadpanned, yanking the covers from over her head. “Now get up.”

She groaned again but obeyed, slowly sliding off of her bed to stand before you. You gave her a smile and she scowled before turning her attention to the outfit you had chosen for her.

“Leather?” She asked, looking at you with a grin. You nodded, picking the clothing up once more to show it to her.

“I’d say a hunt is the perfect excuse to wear something more comfortable than those stiff gowns. It’s still a dress- but we cannot have everything we wish for.”

Rhaenyra laughed and began to undress. You helped her, the pair of you following a routine you knew well. Once you had finished fastening the clasp on her dress, you spun her around to take her in. She looked absolutely beautiful- she always did- but she especially shone in outfits like these. It was a shame she rarely got to wear things other than fancy ball gowns.

“Done staring?” Rhaenyra teased, to which you rolled your eyes.

“I’m making sure nothing is amiss. They would have my head if I allowed you out of this room with even a hair out of place.”

“And you say that I am the one who is dramatic,” she snorted, to which you giggled.

Once you had finished preparing her for the day, the two of you departed her quarters and made your way to the courtyard. It was absolutely buzzing as servants, lords, ladies, and guards moved about in various stages of hurry. Horses whinnied and neighed in impatience as they were saddled.

“Will you be riding alongside Ser Harwin?” Rhaenyra jested, a mischievous grin on her mouth as she turned to look at you.

You shook your head. “Much to your dismay, no. I am stuck with you.”

“A pity,” Rhaenyra replied, to which you huffed.

“Princess” a voice called. “My lady.”

Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

Ser Harwin grinned as he approached the pair of you. You could almost feel the smug glee radiating from Rhaenyra as she nodded to the knight. “Ser Harwin,” she spoke as the man came to halt in front of you. “I did not know you would be joining us.”

“Of course, Princess. It is my honor.” He was speaking to Rhaenyra, but he was watching you. You could feel your cheeks redden under his gaze, and you wanted to punch Rhaenyra as you caught a smirk forming on her mouth out of the corners of your eyes.

“I assume you will be hunting?” Rhaenyra spoke again, and Harwin finally tore his gaze away from you. The second he looked away, you remembered to breathe.

He nodded. “Yes, Princess. I will join your father.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “Of course. Well, I wish you good fortune with your hunt. I am sure I will see you around the camp. We both will,” she smiled as she grabbed your hand. You wanted to strangle her.

“Princess Rhaenyra, your father requests your presence in his chambers,” a servant approached the three of you. Rhaenyra nodded once more, releasing your hand as she began to move. She did not plan this, she could not have, but you still wanted to curse her as she threw you a grin over her shoulder as she departed.

You watched her go, silently hoping Harwin would slip away with the absence of the Princess. Of course, he did not. You turned back to look at him to find him already staring at you.

“I’m sorry about last night, my lady,” he began, and you were already shaking your head in protest as he continued to speak. “I should have let you rest.”

“Nonsense, Ser. You were simply checking on me. It was appreciated.”

“Was it?” He grinned, and you knew he was teasing.

“At the moment, no,�� you told him honestly. “But now, yes.”

He hummed in response, his hands clasped behind his back. Then, you truly took him in for the first time that day- your eyes lingering on his hair. Part of it was pulled back into a tight bun, leaving the rest down. You wanted to tell him you preferred his hair that way, but quickly decided against it.

“I take it you will be with the ladies and the Princess during the festivities.” He stated, to which you nodded.

“Yes, and I’m sure it will be incredibly boring.”

He chuckled, and you realized that you probably should not have said that out loud. You never complained about your duties- not to anyone. And even though you weren’t outright saying anything bad, you were complaining to Harwin, and you did not know why. You barely knew him, after all.

Right?

“Well, if you and the Princess wish to join me on the hunt, then I can sneak you away from the ladies for a few hours. Although, I’m sure the ladies will certainly miss the pair of you.”

“Mhm, yes- they will miss the pair of us whispering to each other in the corner, and Rhaenyra giving short replies to them, and me not speaking because none of them speak to me.”

“It almost sounds like you are asking me to save you from that dull experience, my lady.”

“I would not miss that dull experience for the world,” you rolled your eyes, and Harwin gave a short laugh.

“Jesting aside,” he took a step forward, leaning his head down so you could hear him as he lowered his voice. “I will gladly whisk you away. Simply say the words.”

You flushed, and Harwin grinned as he pulled back from you. He gave a small nod of his head before turning and disappearing into the busy courtyard. You inhaled for the first time in what seemed like a minute before shaking your head, clearing your thoughts, and going to help the servants in loading the carriages.

—

You should have seen this coming.

After returning from seeing her father, Rhaenyra had been in a sour mood. She had maintained that sour mood throughout the entire journey to the Godswood (being forced to play nice with Alicent did not help), as well as through the setting up of camp, visiting with the ladies for all of five seconds, and finally, very loudly (and very publicly) arguing with her father in front of an entire tent of people.

So, you really should have seen it coming when she stormed out of the tent, paying you no mind, and disappearing into the Godswood on horseback; you caught a glimpse of her as you finally made it out of the tent.

Shit.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you tried to compose yourself. You could not help but feel almost angry with her for abandoning you, but you could not blame her.

If you had just gotten in a fight with your father in front of a lot of people, you’d probably grab a horse and disappear, too.

But still, you were upset she had left you alone with people who did not speak to you.

A lady brushed past you as she made her way into the tent, jarring you from your small pity-party. Instead, you steeled your nerves and started subconsciously walking in the one direction you probably should not have.

“My lady?” Harwin’s voice cut over the clamor of the camp as he spotted you. He sounded a tad surprised, but in a good way. Like he wasn’t expecting you, but he was happy you were here now.

“Hello, Ser.” You spoke as you made your way to him. He was standing behind a table, working at sharpening a knife. As you got closer, he set the knife onto the table and looked at you curiously. Others milled about around you, but no one was paying the two of you any mind.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He said.

“It seems I’ve been abandoned. The Princess has ridden off into the Godswood-”

“What?” He questioned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He reached for the knife he had been sharpening and moved to shove it into his belt. “Has anyone gone after her?”

You nodded. “I think a Kingsguard did. She will be fine, she is just upset. Understandably so,” you said. Harwin relaxed slightly at your assurance.

“May I ask what happened?” He asked.

“I’m not exactly sure myself. She was speaking to the King- well, fighting with him, rather. And then she just stormed out and left. I only just saw her ride into the Godswood on a horse.”

Harwin nodded. “Are you alright?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him with a confused expression. “Am I alright?”

“That’s what I asked,” he teased. “Are you?”

“Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I was beginning to believe you and the Princess were attached at the hip. You two are rarely without the other.”

“That is my job, Ser. In case you have forgotten.” You told him, to which he shook his head with a grin.

“Oh, I have not forgotten, my lady. I look forward to knowing that I will see you when I take my watch.”

“Did you and Rhaenyra plan this?” You asked then, taking him by surprise.

“Plan what?”

“This,” you waved a hand. “Her leaving me, knowing that I would seek out the one other person who speaks to me-”

“You think too highly of me, my lady. I fear I am not clever enough to orchestrate a scheme such as this. The Princess, however—”

You gave a small laugh at how ridiculous this all sounded- asking if he had planned this. If Rhaenyra had actually conspired with him, agreeing to fight with her father so that you and Harwin would be forced together again.

“No, of course you did not plan this. It was foolish of me to ask-”

“You could never be foolish, my lady.” He interrupted, to which you shook your head.

“You think too highly of me, Ser.”

He did not argue. He simply looked at you, something gleaming in his eyes that you could not quite place.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“I was just about to go and hunt some rabbits. Would you care to join me?”

“Me?” you asked, confused. “I’m afraid I do not know much about hunting.”

“I did not ask if you knew about hunting,” he gently reminded you. “I asked if you would care to join me. Forgive me for assuming, but I did not think that you cared to rejoin the dull ladies you think so highly of.”

He was teasing you, and his mouth was a crooked grin as he waited on your response.

You were nodding your head without much more thought.

“I would love to join you, Ser.”

—

Within the hour, you and Harwin were riding through the Godswood side by side. You smiled for the first time in hours- a real, true, wide smile as the wind blew through your hair. Although people would certainly notice the Princess’s absence, no one would bat an eyelash at your disappearance.

You savored the feeling of the wind on your face as you rode, your hands gripping the reins of your horse, your eyes glancing over at Harwin every minute. He seemed to be enjoying this, too, if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

It was late afternoon now, and the sun was still blazing as the pair of you wound your way through the trees. After a while, Harwin finally slowed his horse to a stop and you followed. He dismounted and came to your side, holding his arms up to you in assistance. You took the help without hesitation, allowing his hands to grab your waist as he helped you down from the horse. He removed his hands quickly after you were on the ground, and you found yourself missing his touch.

“That was certainly better than listening to those ladies speak about nothing,” you told him, watching as he took both the horse's reins and led them to a nearby stream.

“I should hope so,” he chuckled. You watched as he untied a bow from the saddle bag of his horse, along with a quiver of arrows. “I promised you a hunt. Does that still interest you?” He asked as he made his way towards you.

You nodded. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to know what all the fuss is about.”

He laughed at that, holding out the bow to you. You took it hesitantly, unsure of his plans. You had not expected to actually hunt- just join him, maybe speak, maybe just sit and watch. Anything was better than standing unseen in a corner and listening to women you did not like drone on and on over insignificant matters.

“The fuss is about eating, my lady.”

“Well, I know that-” you defended, watching as he chose an arrow from the quiver. “I meant as a sport. Some men just hunt to… hunt. For pleasure. I guess.” You shrugged. Harwin watched you amusedly.

“Some do,” he conceded, still amused. “But for many it is a necessity. Now, if you ever find yourself in need of something to eat, you’ll be able to remember this moment and hunt for yourself.”

“You’re jesting,” you rolled your eyes, gingerly taking the arrow in his outstretched palm.

“Of course not,” he told you. “I’m teaching you a valuable skill.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not convinced. You turned your attention to the bow and arrow now in your hands, admiring the craftsmanship of both. “I do not even know where to begin with this,” you confessed, glancing up at Harwin.

He nodded. “That’s alright, my lady. That is why I am here to teach you. May I?” He asked, and although confused, you nodded. He moved to stand behind you, his hands on your body as he moved your limbs into the proper positions. You inhaled shakily as he worked, neither of you saying anything. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Okay,” he started, guiding your hands in his as he knocked the arrow, then raised the bow. “This is how you want to stand when you’re about to shoot. Don’t ever raise the arrow unless you are prepared to let it fly.” Harwin told you, and you nodded dumbly. All you could focus on was his proximity to you. You wanted to hate it, but you didn’t. Once again, you wanted to curse Rhaenyra for always being right. Damn her.

He moved his hands and yours, pulling the bowstring back with the arrow in place. “I’m going to help you with this one, just so you can get a feel for it. Okay?”

You nodded once more.

“So, you’re going to aim…” he trailed off as he turned you gently towards a tree nearby- his chosen target. “And then you’re going to take a deep breath…” you inhaled deeply. “And now, you’re going to let the arrow go.” You exhaled and released the arrow, his hands still guiding yours. The pair of you watched as it flew through the air, embedding itself into the trunk of the chosen tree. You squealed with glee and turned to face him excitedly.

“Can we do it again?” You asked, and he nodded, a smile on his lips and an affectionate gleam in his eyes.

“Maybe I understand the fuss, now,” You spoke as you crouched down to retrieve another arrow from the forgotten quiver. “I quite like the bow.”

“Slow down, my lady,” Harwin chuckled, watching as you attempted to mimic his earlier movements to knock your arrow. “Patience.”

He reached for you again, his grasp on your skin slowing your movements. You obliged, your cheeks heating as he helped you position yourself once more.

“This one is all yours. Once you get the hang of this, we can start looking for some rabbits.”

“I think I will leave the rabbits to you for now, Ser. I’m content with practicing at this moment.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He stepped back, watching you intently as you raised the bow, drew back the bowstring, and aimed at another tree. You followed his teachings: aiming, inhaling, and…

You loosed the arrow, and it completely missed the tree you had been aiming at, instead hitting the one beside it. You sighed, lowering the bow in defeat as you turned to look at Harwin.

“At least you hit a tree,” he teased, and you laughed despite yourself.

“Come, let’s try again,” he spoke, reaching down for another arrow.

“How about you get that rabbit you promised,” you told him, holding out the bow. “I’m quite hungry.”

“Are you now?” He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded.

“In that case, as my lady pleases.” He took the bow, picked up the quiver and slung it over his shoulder, and moved past you. You stood rooted to the spot, watching as he walked away and blushing over his words.

“Are you coming, my lady?” He called over his shoulder, jolting you from your thoughts.

“Of course!” You called, jogging to catch up with him. He smiled, and you smiled back, and for once you were grateful that Rhaenyra had left you to your own devices.

—•—

tags: @janelei @missusnora @richierich009 @andyrazzledazzle

490 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 1 month

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ELEVEN: He's Not The Sun

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Claire puts one and two together, and she confronts Matt when he climbs through her window that night.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Claire is a bit "mean" in this one, self-hatred, brief description of injury

Word Count: 3.2k

A/n: At first, I thought about writing Claire's POV, but I didn't like it, so I circled back to Matt. Be patient though, things are purposefully moving very slowly. We all love Matt, but Claire cares for Reader, so she is being overprotective (which we can't blame her for!). Just don't hate me for this, 'kay? (Also, I hope at least some of you get the references I put in this one).

Read Chapter 11: He's Not The Sun here on AO3

The wooden frame of the window creaks as he slides through the opening.

Matt has been all over the city tonight. He tried to channel his anger and frustration into his fists and out into the world; he tried to make sense of the chaos that surrounds him everywhere he goes, but he didn’t get very far tonight.

Bloody and bruised, he crawls home to the one person he knows won’t turn him down.

Something feels off tonight though. It isn’t the lack of hopelessness he has been experiencing ever since he heard your voice for the second time that day. That, as unusual as it is for him, doesn’t feel all that odd. He has embraced it. He likes it. Something else is in the air, and a looming sense of doom threatens to constrict his airway.

You’re a bad idea, a lapse in judgment, but no one consumes him more. When everything burns too brightly for him to breathe, you supply him with fresh oxygen. When he’s spiraling, your voice brings him back from the cliff's edge.

Matt is irrevocably obsessed with you. After that phone call—after you dared to ask him out again—he felt his chest fill with a new sense of hope. You gave him something to look forward to. Something good. Something pure.

The prospect of getting to know someone who seems to be a very guarded person is the most valuable. It means that you consider there to be a certain level of trust between the two of you. It may be dangerous, and acting on the feelings he keeps having may be the worst idea he has ever had, but Matt couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Hell’s Kitchen has seemed a little less like a dead end tonight. His fists are bloody now, his ribs are bruised, and the old stitches on his chest have torn the first hour in, but the world isn’t ending. Usually it does whenever he fails. Not tonight though. He thinks of you tonight, and his chest gets a little lighter with each breath of fresh air he takes to calm himself.

He’s in good spirits when he climbs through Claire’s window, but that is where it ends.

Matt enters, and he instantly can no longer shake the feeling that something is, indeed, very wrong.

Claire has been pacing. The echo of missed calls and text messages hangs in the air. And when he takes a deep breath in, the lingering scent hits him like a truck.

Sliding the mask off his face, he tilts his head.

“How bad is it?” Claire asks from the doorway to the kitchen.

The guilt drips from her tongue, but it has nothing to do with him. Anger and worry spike her blood pressure; she can’t fool him, no matter how hard she tries.

“Someone was here,” he deflects.

“Can’t be that bad if your voodoo senses still work.”

“Just a bruised rib. I, uh, popped my stitches.” Matt takes a step forward, hissing. “I told you not to tell anyone where you are.”

On any other day, in any other case, he would have lectured her, but his voice lacks power this time.

Matt wants to protect his identity—needs to—but he can’t even keep Claire safe. She didn’t have to pull him out of that dumpster, but he was the one who told her he would be coming back. He’s burning everything and everyone around him to the ground like an old church at first contact with a tipped-over candle.

He’s unable to stop. He wants to be a savior; protecting the city, protecting his family, and protecting everyone else. Matt wants to be a hero, as much as he claims otherwise. To him, that is the purpose God gave him.

He grew up believing he was nothing but a soldier. Stick taught him that. Then, he left, and Matt eventually gave up hope. He was just a child then. A little boy, lost and alone. The mindset Stick forced onto him stayed, and it is a resilient bastard. It’s like a parasite that feeds off of him and refuses to leave.

He has no idea what to believe in anymore. The one person willing to take him under his wing walked out on him years ago, and he has accepted that it’s all he will ever be good for.

Experiencing all the injustice in the world in every sense but his eyes have given him no other choice but to leave the path of lawfulness and take a different turn—a turn he is now facing the repercussions for at a very dead end.

You’re getting close to him, and that means you’re inevitably in the line of fire too, just like everyone else Matt holds dear—but he never holds them close enough to allow himself to get hurt. The thought of you getting hurt remains to kill him like a dangerous toxin in his bloodstream.

Your scent is glued to the walls of the apartment, and Matt is roughly brought back to reality. The love-sick haze he had been in all night dissipates.

Catching himself on the back of the chair she keeps next to the couch, he groans. His side screams in protest. He’s bleeding; he can smell the copper in the air, mixing with Claire’s sweat and her previously shed tears that are still thick in the atmosphere. And perhaps it is your tears, too.

You.

Olivia Clarke. He truly does believe there is more to it, and that something else is going on, but too many thoughts crowd his mind at once, and he can only think about one.

He imagines her standing with crossed arms in front of him, her stance wide and her eyes empty, wiped clean by the storm of her emotions. The fire begins to burn a little brighter, swallowing her whole. All he can think about is the fact that you have been here. Neither Matt nor Claire can deny that.

“Who did you meet?” he asks, his voice low and rough as he takes another unsteady step forward.

“You tell me, Mike,” she counters. “Or should I call you Matt?”

The blood freezes in his veins. “How did you—”

But Claire cuts him off. “I was hoping to be wrong.” She shakes her head, and under her breath, she whispers to herself, “She was so happy. God, why does this always happen?”

The alarms are blaring at full volume in his head. Matt bares his teeth. “Who are you talking about, Claire? Who told you–” he grunts.

She knows.

“Who told you my name?” he asks.

“I hate being right sometimes. You wanna know who was here?” Claire pauses. “I have a friend who I happen to work with. You may know her,” she says. “Olivia Clarke? Yeah. She’s the one you’ve been lying to about who you are behind all of—” she points him up and down, “This. A blind, masked vigilante who likes to get himself on Russian ganbangers’ bad side.”

His face falls. Hearing it out loud puts things into perspective. Hearing it out loud makes it real.

Your scent fills his nose again. Your heartbeat pounds in his ear, a very vivid memory of this afternoon, and your voice echoes.

“Fuck!” he curses. “It’s not—” he was going to say that it isn’t what it looks or sounds like, but that would be the most unbelievable lie. “It’s not like that,” he says.

“Then what is it like? Tell me, Matt—if that’s even your real name.”

“I… okay, listen. We bumped into each other at the hospital the other night and hit it off. I didn’t know—” His face contorts.

“Didn’t know she had feelings?”

Claire breeches the distance between them. She glides her fingers along his clothed torso, lifting his shirt to see the damage for herself. The skin is slick with his blood, the stitches long gone.

Her usually so calculated movements are a lot more disoriented tonight. She’s tense, shaking.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath when she starts working on cleaning the wound with a cotton swab from her first-aid kit. “No,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. Let alone that you were friends. If I had, I wouldn’t have…” he trails off. No matter what he says, it will only prove her right that he is, in fact, an asshole.

“What did you think?” Claire sneers. “You tell me to turn my whole life around while you act like nothing’s wrong during the day, flirting your way through Hell’s Kitchen and landing on someone who works at the same hospital as me? She’s my best friend!”

“We had coffee. That’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me. You gave her your number twice, and you asked her out. She came to me, panicking because you were her first date in years, and I gave her advice like the idiot I am.” She scoffs. “Don’t act like it was just coffee because if it had been, you wouldn’t have said yes to dinner when she asked you.”

Claire pours the disinfectant directly onto the cut, and he howls in the back of his throat. “Sorry,” she says, but it lacks sincerity. “I couldn’t even answer her texts because I feel like I’m complicit in lying, even though I never signed up for this.”

Matt adjusts in his seat. The medicinal alcohol burns through his bloodstream.

She sticks three butterfly bandages over the cut, one after the other. “To think I told her you were a good guy because I was hoping someone had finally come around for her who wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her,” he answers without missing a beat.

“Then why did she tell me about how she met this handsome lawyer, but not that he runs around in spandex at night, throwing fists at bad guys?”

“Because…I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t.” Taking a deep breath, his eyes stop darting around. He wraps his hand around her wrist, stopping her desperate attempt to patch him up.

Right now, Claire hates him. She’s furious with him and worried about you, and she doesn’t quite know where to with herself, but she also can’t let it be. Matt’s hurt; after saving his life, she feels responsible for making sure he’s okay. Her movements are muscle memory, but he can’t focus, not like this.

“You see the situation you’re in, Claire.” Her pulse quickens at the mention of her name. “If I tell her,” he explains, “she’ll be in danger, and I can’t… She’s too good for that. And so are you, but you chose to pull me out of that dumpster.”

“Don’t act like it’s my fault for not wanting to let you bleed out,” she claps back.

He tightens his grip, urging her not to slip away. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I know what you meant. And I agree, Liv’s too good for you.”

The second she has finished bandaging his wound, she breaks free from his grasp and steps away. Being close to him seems to hurt her. He can hear it in the way she breathes, brushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead. Her temples must be pounding.

Matt lowers his shirt again, sighing. “She has something about her. The way she talks, the way she carries herself, I just… she draws me in. And she’s good to me.”

A million reasons why he can’t stay away from you, but he can’t voice any of them in the way he wants to. The words just won’t come.

Claire wipes her hands on a towel nearby. “She doesn’t exist to make you feel better,” she says. “She doesn’t exist to make anyone feel better. She thinks she does, but she isn’t. I thought you, out of all people, would understand that.”

No one exists for the sake of another person.

“I know she’s had a bad childhood,” he says.

“It’s not just about her bad childhood. It’s everything. She deserves better.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’m aware that I’m bad for her? That everything I do has a tendency to backfire on the people I care about?”

She avoids looking at his face entirely. “I want to believe you, but I can’t,” she says.

“Claire—”

She shakes her head. “You need to cancel that dinner.”

The words take a very long moment to register. “You want me to break her heart?” he asks.

Matt imagines that—hurting you, breaking your heart, and never seeing you again—and it crushes him. Over his dead body, that is what he thought when you answered the phone earlier that evening. Now, Claire is begging him to kill himself so that you can be free of him. She finally sees him through the same mirror he views himself through, and it is terrifyingly isolating.

The floorboards creak under the weight of her steps as she begins to pace. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe? Yes? All I know is that you can’t see her again.”

The wave that comes at him threatens to pull him under. She met the Devil first, but he was so broken then that a glimpse of Matt was already peeking through. He wants to disappear.

Claire’s view of the world has always been sober, but now that he is in the spotlight of it all, he wishes he would have never come to her again. He was alone, and she was there, but it should not have happened.

Subconsciously, he matches her labored breathing. “I get you, Mi—Matt,” she murmurs. “I do. And I keep telling myself it’s twisted, but I can’t help it. You’re hurt, and I know how to take care of that. God knows I shouldn’t have got involved with you. I don’t regret it. I’m not trying to make you feel worse than you already do, but Liv’s safety is something I can’t risk. I won’t. Endless devotion is the only way she knows how to love. And if you go out with her—if you make her fall for you—she will get herself killed.”

You. Dead. The combination tastes sour. No amount of bleach could remove the blurry imagination of you, dying because of him. His chest tingles, a thousand lightning bolts at once. If he goes along with it, he fears her words might become real. But who’s to say they won’t either way? The fear settles into his bones like a chronic ache.

Matt gets up. His knees buckle, but he tries to stand strong. The question is, who is he trying to fool? Claire knows better, and he can’t even believe himself anymore. It’s pointless.

“I know you care about her, but after the Russians are taken care of—” he begins.

Claire raises her hand. The wind brushes across his cheek, stopping him in his tracks. “Doesn’t matter,” she says. “You won’t stop.”

“I…” he sighs. “You know I can’t. Not when I have to listen to the law fail every damn night. This city needs me in that mask.”

“I’m not telling you to stop. I know you’ve made up your mind, and that’s your choice, but Liv can’t be dragged into this. If it’s not the Russians, it will be something or someone else trying to get a piece of you, and they will drag those close to you down with you.” Claire crosses her arms again. “We both know I’m right,” she says.

“You’re asking me to break her heart. That’s not fair,” the sentence hangs in the air, a helpless breath on his lips as he tries to reach for a way out of this hell.

Her fingers dig into her biceps. “Can you promise that she won’t get hurt?”

He opens his mouth. Not a single sound escapes him. And Matt realizes that if he wants to answer that question, he has to lie. The truth will prove her right. It proves him right.

She nods. His hesitation speaks volumes. “If you let her down easy now, you won’t do any irreparable damage. You both can move on.”

But he doesn’t want to move on. Again, nothing but a strangled grunt in the back of his throat slips past his lips. Matt loathes himself more than anything. Death seems kinder than whatever this is supposed to be.

If he had chosen to go home and stitch himself up tonight, maybe he could have still been pretending by now, and he wouldn’t be on the verge of losing you.

She sniffs. She isn’t crying, but her nose is still running from the presence of the very persistent cat, who has been watching them ever since Matt climbed into the window.

“She’s like family to me,” Claire tells him as calmly as she possibly can. “I can’t let you do this to her, not after I’ve got a taste of what it’s like.”

If you were there with them, you would tell her to mind her own business. Knowing you, you wouldn’t allow her or anyone to control you. You are in charge of your own destiny, but as she said, you would go into it blindly and sacrifice yourself if he truly means that much to you, and if that were to ever happen, he might lose you. Claire might lose you. You might die, and that is a thought that Matt can’t even stand to form, but he has no choice as the voices come crashing back in.

rough his shirt to touch his wound. It’s not a gentle caress, not at all.

“Promise me she’ll be okay?” he asks.

Claire nods. “Of course, she will. You’re not the center of her universe,” and although she probably meant it to sound snarky, a certain softness follows through the sound of her voice.

Maybe in another life, he could be. In another life—another universe—he could be your sun, or perhaps the moon that shines at midnight as rain falls. Just not in this one.

He slips through the window back into a reality that is much different from whatever fantasy he could possibly conjure up to soothe the hot ache that spreads through his heart, and when his feet hit the wet ground, he knows he has a decision to make.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #claire temple #charlie cox #reader insert #do no harm

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terrence-silver · 3 months

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Does Terry (any era) do anything in particular when beloved tries the "not tonight, dear, I have a headache" line to get away from his incessant libido?

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― Twig is genuinely worried about his partner and their headache, possibly blowing the issue out of proportion to some degree or other; he's genuinely out here to fix it, though. Make it better. Give them medication. Bring up a glass of water to their mouth like they're a child. Latching unto them. Incessantly inquiring if they need anything --- if he could possibly do anything to help them. Fussing around them. Worrying. Overworrying and overthinking it, even. He'd devotedly adjust the pillow under their head and tucks them in with a blanket, if need be, so they could be as comfortable as humanly possible. Anything beloved needs, always. There's still something weirdly boyish and innocently childlike to a young Terry's loyalty, regardless if this is him before Vietnam or after it. He wants to do good and right by the people he cares for and this is evident in his acts of service that just beam through him at times. For some reason, I just imagine Terry laying down beside beloved on the bed, on his side, facing them and giving them a worried puppy look, outright waiting for their headache for pass diligently and frequently asking if it eased up at all, setting aside how turned on and frisky he might be. In fact, he could very well wait all night and just not sleep. Long after beloved's dozed off with exhaustion, Twig is still there, eyes open, watching them and acting as their personal guard, hoping they're better now or at least will be once they wake up, when it's fully evident he'll continue fussing tomorrow as well and possibly in the days that follow too. Best not tell him anything aches, regardless if it's true or a lie because he'll truly take the problem to heart as much as a person can take a problem to heart and he won't rest until it's fixed.

― Terry Silver in the 80's is going to tell beloved sex cures headaches. No. Really. It does. Didn't they hear? He'll tell them this and he won't even bat an eye even as he says it. An orgasm releases the tension from the muscles, opens pores, strengthens the core, relieves the chakras, turns the skin elastic and shiny, heightens serotonin receptors and makes the head feel light and easy. It overall tends to fix one's mood too. Has one living longer. Terry has his manipulation down to a science; beloved's being had, but my god if this man won't be capable of going to exact detail and making his reasoning on why he'll fuck beloved in spite of their headache sound outright logical to the degree they might even consider it, because they way he phrases it...well, it sounds so reasonable and believable, doesn't it? Might just convince them it's precisely because they ain't having sex five times a day that they're having a headache in the first place seeing as how it's one of the body's prime necessities in life, much like food and water. This is just their physique telling them they lack something and that something's him, of course. No use in fighting it. It's not Terry Silver saying this. It's natural instinct. Duh! By the end of it, he'll outright philosophize beloved into sex and giving him what he wants, when he wants it, headache or no headache. If it miraculously stops hurting once he's done he'll use that as a testament to the fact he was right, as always. Beloved might even thank him and he'll relish taking the gratitude, acting a bit humble even as he eats it up. If it doesn't stop hurting, he'll just multitasking by phoning Margaret into calling over a doctor while he prepares for the next round with beloved meantime.

― Old man Terry might just openly call out beloved on their trick with zero hesitation and a smile plastered all over his face, saying something of the likes of 'You're really gonna use the headache excuse on me?' maybe adding something in the nature of 'You can do a lot better than that.' because thing is, at this stage in his life, Terry might just be more blunt and no-nonsense than he's ever been before. Of course beloved's attempts amuse him. Of course he sees it as a challenge fuel. As an excuse to toy with them even further. An invitation, of sorts, to do what he wants anyway and break down their barriers. A game of sorts. Of course he's unfettered. Entertained. But, simultaneously, he'll fully and entirely let beloved know that he knows, that in fact, there's nothing that ails them and they're simply, for the lack of a better word, bullshitting him. Makes him wonder why, though. Has he been exhausting them? Now there's a thought that makes his ego swell even further and having him want to just downright break them. Or is it something that could blindside him and this is one of many signs that they're trying to put distance between him and themselves, because things like this...they always start out small. As small as a headache and saying 'no' to sex. The devil's in the details. And ah --- there it is. Now it stopped being quite so amusing. Terry's glee can very quickly turn sour as he overthinks and takes the rejection to heart, letting his own thoughts pollute him and conjure up prospects of betrayal when there are none. Don't you want him anymore? Paranoia running rampant, man can go anywhere from hitting the bottle, to grieving, to genuinely keeping an eye out for you and taking precautions in case you're planning to leave him.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #twig terry silver #terry silver twig #old man terry #80's terry silver #headache #sexcanons #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved

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the-whispers-of-death · 4 months

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Save Me From Myself (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male COD OC "Stone" Summary: It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas, and everyone in the Task Force 141 is home for the holidays. Everyone except two. One man who's rather guarded at first, and the other who's so guarded that he's hasn't been vulnerable in a... long time. They're now the only two on base during a month-long holiday break. Can Ghost change Stone's ways and make him see that he's worthy of care and love? Word Count: 1,453 words Content: Angst, so much angst, cursing, eventual mention of rape, mentions of child abuse and neglect, eventual mention of self-harm, ftm!OC, American!OC, Desi!OC, eventual mention of transphobia and homophobia, inaccurate military and medical speak/procedure. Author's Note: This is my first writing on here and it's not beta read so hopefully there's not too many mistakes or errors. This was originally going to an angsty-turned-fluffy one-shot, but then I really got into the groove and couldn't not make this into an entire fic. This features my COD OC Stone, who is a second-generation American with Indian heritage. Note that while I am a first-generation American with Indian heritage, my knowledge of the Indian culture is... lacking, to say the least, but Stone has more of the Indian culture embedded into his personality, so I'll be trying my best to represent it as best as possible. If I get anything wrong with the Desi culture, please (respectfully) tell me. Any (respectful) criticism of my work is deeply appreciated!

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The halls of the SAS base where the Task Force 141 were currently holed up due to them heading to the UK, so their soldiers could go home for the holidays, were empty. Silent.

Everyone in the base and the Task Force were gone, back home to their families. Except two.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley and a U.S. Fleet Marine Corpsman who was simply known as “Stone”.

Stone was on loan to the Task Force because a), the Task Force needed a medic, and b), the U.S. Navy wanted to demonstrate that their country was still good friends with the UK, so they lent one of their best Navy Corpsmen to the Task Force as a gesture of goodwill. He was an intimidating man to say the least; six feet and eight inches tall, more burly than muscular, his brown skin was marred head to toe in old battle scars, and he was cold and stoic. He roamed the halls silently, almost always only speaking when he was patching up a soldier and always he wore a muzzle-like mask due to his past of biting fellow soldiers.

To say he wasn’t making any friends in the Task Force was an understatement, but Captain John Price thought his skills in the battlefield and in the infirmary outweighed his lack of camaraderie.

Stone was currently sitting in his office in the infirmary, doing paperwork despite it being the 24th of December, Christmas Eve. Due to being in the U.S. Navy for fifteen years, he was at the rank of E-7, or Chief Hospital Corpsman, and despite the fact that he was an American in a British SAS base, he was the highest-ranking medic in the infirmary. So, there was a lot of paperwork for him to do and not even it being Christmas Eve would stop him from doing it.

“You don’t have any family to go home to, Doc?” Ghost asked, silently appearing in the doorway, his footsteps being so quiet. He peered into the office, his black balaclava and white skull mask covering his entire face and facial features save for his dark, molten brown eyes. He leaned against the frame of the doorway, his demeanor cool as always.

Stone looked up from his paperwork, not even visibly startled as his face underneath his muzzle-like mask remained impassive as always. “Was told by the SAS higher-ups I could fly home for the holidays, but I figured it was a waste of plane fuel,” he replied coldly, his voice devoid of so much emotion. His cold gaze pierced Ghost’s, his emotionless brown eyes having a staring contest with Ghost’s own brown eyes. “Not that I have family, anyways. Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

He was curious, of course. Ghost was just like him: a mystery. And while the cold part of him that was so detached from others that he couldn’t motivate himself to make friends told him not to ask, not to get close, he just couldn’t help himself. He saw a kindred spirit in the SAS lieutenant, and the part of him that was lonely, so lonely, hoped this deployment would be the chance for him to finally have a family. After all, the Task Force loved like a family, fought like a family, protected each other like a family.

And damn him and his weak heart for craving that.

Ghost was still leaning against the door frame and he crossed his arms as he registered the question, Stone’s cold gaze hungrily taking in the way the Lieutenant’s muscles flexed with the movement. “I don’t have family either. Not anymore, anyways,” he answered gruffly after a few minutes of thinking exactly what to say. “141's the only family I got now, but I wasn’t going to intrude on their time with their families. I get them for most of the year, time for their families to have them.”

Stone wanted to ask why Ghost no longer had any biological family, what happened to them, but he held back. Not only was it rather rude for him to keep pressing for answers when clearly Ghost didn’t want to talk about it, it was…too personal. He had to remember that he shouldn’t make friends, shouldn’t make connections.

You can’t trust anyone, Beta. Not fellow soldiers, not friends. Not even family. Not even me. Close your heart, Beta. Seal your emotions, lest you be weak.

He almost had a visible reaction to his father’s cold and harsh words slicing through his thoughts, but he managed to reign in the flinch and wince. Managed to hide the searing throb that came with the words.

Seal your emotions, seal your emotions, he repeated that mantra several times in his head, forcing himself to remain cold and stoic.

“Why did you come here?” His words sounded even harsher than usual, internally agitated. It was hard maintaining the demeanor his father beat into him when he was alone, but it was even harder with someone else in the room. With Ghost in the room. “Get out. Can’t you see I’m working?”

Ghost’s brown eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenching tight as his hands furled into fists. He walked into the office, no longer lingering in the doorway, like he was about to give Stone a piece of his mind. But then he took a deep breath and returned to being just as impassive—if not more now that Stone was agitated on the inside—as Stone.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out in the recreational room with me, since we’re both the only soldiers on base. The only ones without families to go home to. But I can see that line of thinking was a mistake, coming here was a mistake.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes narrowed at Stone. “I pity you, you know? You’re alone. At least I have friends.”

Stone stood up at that, so quickly that a normal person would’ve gotten whiplash. He got out from behind his desk, stalking towards Ghost and towering over him like he did with everybody. He leaned down, his masked face inches away from Ghost’s as his cold brown eyes glared into Ghost’s warmer brown eyes.

“I don’t need friends. I don’t need anyone. I’m not weak like you,” he spat out, internally willing himself to remain cold.

This was a mistake, he thought to himself bitterly. It was a mistake to even entertain the notion of making friends.

Ghost scoffed, looking up at Stone and not even flinching at how tall the Fleet Marine Corpsman was. “If that’s how you feel, fine. Far be it from me to try and change your mind. Merry Christmas, Stone,” he said, glancing at the digital clock behind Stone that now shined a bright twelve o’clock at night.

He then turned on his heel, not even sparing Stone a second glass as he left the office.

Stone was internally seething, trying everything he can to remain cold and stoic. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at himself or at Ghost, or both. He was just mad, so he made quick strides to the door of the office and slammed it shut to deter anyone else from disturbing him, although only him and Ghost were on base.

The silence was deafening, only sounds being his breathing and his pounding heartbeat in his chest. The anger was a bitter reminder that he was no longer the perfect soldier his father trained him to be. That he was getting weak, the years of being away from his father’s influence clearly having deteriorated all the hard work that had been done.

“Stop it, stop being so weak,” he murmured to himself, his large hands reaching up to grab at his black short hair. He stumbled back towards his desk, to try and work on his paperwork again. “Seal your emotions, close your heart. Can’t trust anyone, have to be the perfect soldier. The perfect weapon Baba made you to be.”

He sank his broken and scarred form into the chair at his desk, it creaking a lot as always because he was heavier than most soldiers. He took several deep breaths before finally releasing the hair in his hands.

Stone didn’t go back to work for a while, no, he sat in his desk chair and remembered all of the memories of his childhood. Remembered the fear, the feeling of being unsafe, of being unloved by the only family he had at the time. And he remembered it all until he got a grip on himself, until he went back to being devoid from emotions.

Just like how Baba taught him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

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befuddled-calico-whump · 6 months

Text

Hand in Hand (part nine)

@whumptober No. 15: "I'm Fine"

cw: broken bones, gun mention

prev ///// au masterlist ///// next

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Of all the things Jin expects to find while raiding a Riot Kings' base, Melchior is not one of them.

Especially not a Melchior who's chained to a bed.

When Jin kicks the door in, gun drawn, ready to make contact, he's met with a sharp rattling sound as the leader of the Riot Kings is startled awake.

At first, neither of them speak. It's not exactly the kind of situation you'd have a speech prepared for. Jin keeps his gun level, if only out of habit, as he takes in the full scene. Melchior's sunken cheeks, the dark half-moons under his eyes, the old bruises peeking out wherever there's exposed skin. He's wearing the usual crimson suit, but it's torn and rumpled, and his gaze seems like it's been blunted somehow, like a knife used to chop rocks. He looks half-dead, for lack of a better term.

What the actual fuck is going on here?

There's always the possibility that this is an elaborate trap, but it seems out of left-field, even for Melchior. Why chain yourself down and play a prisoner when the rest of your men are retreating, leaving you behind?

Melchior is the first to break the silence.

"Y-you're with the Fleet," he says, in a voice hoarse and tired. It isn't a question, but Jin nods.

The next words out of his mouth catch Jin even more off guard.

"Arrest me. Please."

This is feeling more and more wrong by the second. Even as implausible as it seems, why would Melchior outright ask to be taken in unless he had some kind of plan? But in spite of his suspicions, Jin lowers the gun and moves closer.

He'll at least do a full assessment before making a decision. Jin gives a sharp tug on each chain, assuring they're actually secure, then begins patting Melchior down, checking for any concealed items.

"Wait, wait! N-not yet, there's someone else," Melchior says.

Jin pauses in his search, glancing down at him. "Who?"

"Wes. Another prisoner. He's... You have to get him first. Before it's too late."

Too late for what? Jin shakes his head, and continues patting Melchior down. "Once I've cleared you, I'll have my team search for him," he says. "I'm sure he can wait."

"No. Please, he's hurt, he--nghh!" His voice breaks off into a barely-suppressed scream as Jin's hands move down his right leg, just past the knee. Jin reaches for his knife and cuts away the pant leg, grimacing when he sees what's beneath it. The top half of Melchior's shin is a mess of swollen skin and dark bruises. Broken for sure, and not cleanly.

"You'll need a medic," he says flatly. If Melchior can't walk, that complicates his exit. He'll have to get someone else in here to help move him. "Do you have any other notable injuries?"

"I'm fine."

Doubtful.

"Please. You can leave me chained up here, but you need to save him first--"

"Save him?"

"Arrest him, wh-whatever the fuck it takes, please." His voice is rising, but it's more desperation than anger, and it's enough to make Jin doubtful on what he should believe.

He's always cautious, always careful. It's muscle memory. But right now, his gut is telling him Melchior isn't pretending. The feeling is doubled when he glances up and sees that Melchior is crying.

Jin sheaths his knife, pulling back from the bed. "Fine," he says, and the other man visibly relaxes.

The restraints are real, and locked in place, and there's no way Melchior's going anywhere anyway with a break like that, at least not quickly. He has nothing to lose by taking his word at face value, just this once.

"Where do I find him?"

"Left of this room, down a long hall. I-it's a locked cell." He's spitting out directions almost too fast for Jin to make sense of, but he manages to catch the important words. Left. Hall. Cell.

Again, Jin answers with a nod. He'll grab a few team members before actually making his way towards this new target. Just because instinct isn't telling him it's a setup doesn't mean he'll rush in without thinking.

As he pulls the door shut behind him, he swears he hears a thank you.

~ ~ ~

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles @shywhumpauthor @whumpsday

#whumptober2023 #no.15 #i'm fine #oc #fic #broken bones tw #gun mention tw #rescue #reluctant caretaker #look guys jin's danger matrix gets a lot looser when nabi's not in the picture #begging #shorter part i suppose #its almost midnight rock on #whump #riotkingsau

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the-s1lly-corner · 11 months

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OOO what about a Dark Fey reader like Maleficent? that was being hunted down by a dangerous group of cryptid hunters, and had a broken wing n wounded by iron bullets but kept running.

And the Creeps found them took em in. and since ferfolk cannot lie,.. caught them off guard with a question on how they felt about that creep 😉

I expect to see Slenderman!👁👁 and another ig👍plz

idk I rarely see Supernatural like readers, it's a little disappointing imo. I love powerful self-inserts ok?

Slenderman with a Fey!S/o

UWAAAA I'm sorry for taking so long to get to this !! I've kinda been sucked up in a bunch of irl stuff !! (Nothing serious, just me working on things)!!

Admittedly I have never watched maleficent; so I'll solely be going off the info given in this ask I hope that's alright ☝️😔 and I apologize in advance if it's no good 😭💔

As you specifically brought up slenderman, he's gonna be our star today!! I was originally going to do the full list of characters but my brain js

A raisin

Also also!! I totally get what you mean ab the shortage of supernatural readers!!! Not just in the creepypasta fandom; but really any fandom! Let the insert have powers, let them be super strong, ect ect !!

You'd stumble into him after trying to hide and take shelter in his woods

Normally, he'd take down any trespassers after stalking them for a bit; but he was just too curious about you to make that the case

I dont know, I always think of slenderman to carry that kind of curiosity about the world and other creatures; I feel like that makes him more interesting than the fandoms standard "stern and oddly fatherly" take... also I just live the idea of curious cryptids!!

Moving on

He'd help patch you up with the resources in the forest; I've seen mixed opinions on whether or not slenderman has weird healing powers but personally; I think he has regen abilities that can only be applied to himself! Unrelated to the ask I know, but a quick little fun aside and little bonding point for him and s/o if they have the same deal going on

As for shelter? I'm personally still on the fence on if I wanna make the manor thing a part of my personal universe and hc that I write for these silly lads; but rn I've settled for a version of it! Not as grand or tidy as the old fandom hyped it up to be; it's a lil smaller and kinda... run down

Still livable, though, and you're more than welcome inside if you need somewhere to stay

Granted, I'm not entirely sure how the topic of romance would be brought up with him, but let's say he picks up on some behavior from you that makes him start putting together a picture

Bro has zero rizz I'm sorry

Regardless, he eventually asks the question; and as the rules go, you're kinda forced to tell him how you feel

I think regardless of if he reciprocates or expected your answer, he'd be surprised

I mean how many people are out here flirting with a forest monster, to their face

I think it could work, honestly! The relationship I mean!! I wish i had more hcs since this is such a fun idea, but I genuinely dont know much about fairy stuff and all the lore regarding them

But onto some more side hcs/little ideas to make up for the lack of stuff !!

If you need comfort, about the whole being hunted thing, slenderman is a good listener; and he understands what it's like, bro probably has to deal with people trying to get a look at him all the time. He gets it

Want revenge on them? Well if the hunters followed you into the woods they probably wont last long anyways; despite the whole curiosity thing he can be... rather territorial

Day to day life with slenderman is interesting as is, but with a fellow non-human companion? Shenanigans will likely ensue

What kind? Cant say, due to my lack of knowledge 😔☝️

Too injured to move around on your own? If you need to go somewhere slenderman will either fetch it for you, or just carry you to where you gotta go

Also he totally wont make it habit; even before the romantic relationship is fully formed

It just activates his neurons 😔

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman x reader #slenderman imagine #slenderman headcanons #creepypasta slenderman #slenderman

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yourdeepestfathoms · 1 year

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Vanessa and (plush) Glitchtrap

(based on this post because i thought of more stuff for it and think it’s funny)

Have you ever been bitch slapped by a rabbit stuffed animal? Because Vanessa has

Despite lacking muscles, that little bitch can SWING

It HURTS

Glitchtrap walks around her apartment like he owns the damn place

Vanessa is still forced to call him “Mr. Afton” lmao

“What’s for dinner tonight?” “Soup.” “I don’t want soup.” “YOU CAN’T EAT”

Glitchtrap can, will, and has stabbed Vanessa in the foot whenever he doesn’t get his way

A coworker: omg, Vanessa, why are you limping??

Vanessa: *remembers how her evil stuffed rabbit roommate stuck a knife into her heel because she didn’t lift him onto the counter to see what she was doing (he can literally teleport, he just likes the satisfaction of having her obey)*

Vanessa: oh, i just sprained my ankle!

They sit on the couch and watch shows together

And then argue about what to put on

“I DON’T WANT TO WATCH THOSE STUPID HOME RENOVATION SHOWS” “I DON’T CARE! I DON’T WANT TO WATCH THE NEWS! AND BESIDES, IT’S MY TV!” “YOU ARE MY HOST!” “THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU GET TO CHOOSE THE CHANNEL!”

He’ll sit on her head and pilot her around like in Ratatouille, but instead of pulling on her hair, he just slaps the shit out of her until she does what he wants

Someone: why is your stuffed animal in the corner??

Vanessa: i’m angry at it

Glitchtrap: YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT YOURE UGLY BY NOW HOW ARE YOU STILL GETTING UPSET WHEN I TELL YOU SO

Vanessa is ordered to buy a really big bag so Glitchtrap can sit inside of it when she goes places

Catch Glitchtrap out here in one of these bad boys

She’ll be at the grocery story, and these long yellow rabbit ears will just perk out of her bag because he’s interested in what she’s doing

“You need milk.” “Thanks.” “Yeah.”

He’ll ask her to show him different items so he can inspect them, and it looks so weird because it just seems like she’s holding shit to her bag for no reason

One time, Vanessa was mugged, and when the dude took her bag, Glitchtrap jumped out like a rabid squirrel

Long story short, Vanessa got her bag back

“SHE’S MINE, YOU BITCH!” “YEAH, YOU BITCH!”

While at work pre-night guard job, she’ll put him in the corner of her desk and just talk to him sometimes because she gets bored punching numbers into a keyboard all day

“Idk, sometimes it all feels so futile, you know?” “Why do you think I went into the engineering business? It’s better than this.” “I guess so. But doesn’t engineering take some level of desk job experience? And, besides, it isn’t all just building robots for fun.” “You’ve got me there. You pulled the short stick.”

Whenever Glitchtrap sees a typo in whatever Vanessa is typing, he’ll smack her hands aside with his little paws and start revising it himself

“Are you trying to make us look stupid?? Here, let ME do it.”

Once she gets her night guard job, he’ll sometimes go with her to work and will actively walk around beside her, since it’s not like he’ll be caught

Whenever Vanessa hears an animatronic coming, she punts him away like a football

Freddy: who were you talking to?

Vanessa: what? oh, i had a phone call!

Gltichtrap, at the other side of the room: OW YOU WHORE

Glitchtrap would definitely try to fistfight Mini Music Man

Glitchtrap, to his old body down in the old pizzeria: look at me, Vanessa. this was me in my PRIME!

Vanessa: you in your prime looks a lot like a gross corpse,,

She got smacked real hard for that one

He usually oversees the work on the Burntrap body in this form

By this I mean that he literally sits on her shoulder and makes sure she doesn’t do Anything Wrong

Glitchtrap: i can’t see. put me up high.

Vanessa: *puts Glitchtrap on her shoulder*

Glitchtrap: much better!

This but it’s Vanessa and Glitchtrap

#fun fact: that last image comes from my dnd character in one more multiverse #she’s inspired by vanessa and also has a possessed rabbit stuffed animal #anyway i think this concept is really fun #fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's security breach #fnaf hcs #fnaf headcanons #fnaf vanessa #fnaf glitchtrap #glitchtrap

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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"Mirror, mirror on the wall" - Keoghan!Joker x Detective!Reader

[TW: scars, mentions of past abuse]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

SUMMARY: A scar is not equal to another scar. Despite that, survivors are pretty much the same. Joker meets a detective who's not so easy to impress or intimidate.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.6k

A/N: got inspired by playing 'Still Life' for the hundredth time. Old game but still great and highly replayable.

Gordon wasn't one to joke around, especially when it came to the life and safety of Gotham and its citizens. Still, you couldn't believe he was absolutely serious:

"Look as much as I hate to say it if there’s someone who can get some sense out of that madman, it’s you," Gordon confessed.

He's been at this for the entire week, no matter what excuse you gave him. Normally, he would be a lot more civil and drop the subject the moment you said "no" for the first time but, unfortunately for you, he was a little too desperate. You knew he simply cared and felt like there was nothing else he could do to push the investigation forward. It was that uncharacteristic pushiness that made you question your own will - if there truly was no one else and Gordon was crumbling feeling powerless, maybe you could take a leap out of your comfort zone and into the deep, dark chasm of uncharted trauma.

"Why me, Gordon?" you asked in a weak voice. Truthfully, you weren't sure why you were even asking him that question - you knew perfectly well why.

"You've been through shit, detective. Shit I can't put into words. You got a good look into a psycho's mind and came out alive. You survived history's worst and that changes people."

Elegant euphemisms were one of the reasons Gordon was so good with people. He knew that "change" barely scratched the surface of what happened to you.

"What about your bat partner in crime?"

The officer stood with his hands on his hips. He shook his head slightly before answering you.

"Batman may be good, really damn good but he lacks your self-control. Get him in a room with that guy and he’ll scream and bang on the glass like he did with the Riddler. Maybe even worse. And that ain’t gon’ get us anything useful out of him."

Gordon was right. You knew that, although didn't want to admit it as admitting it would rid you of all of your excuses and you'd have to face and make use of something that murdered a part of you years ago. A scar had to become a medal.

"Alright," you said quietly. Gordon's shoulders momentarily slouched. "I'll try but no promises."

"Good enough for me. Thank you, detective. I know how much this costs you."

"No, you don't, Gordon."

He didn't try to argue or reason. There was no way in which he could relate to your experience - to that dark basement and rusty chains. Although it gnawed at him, that he couldn't offer genuine understanding and sympathy to someone he cared about, Gordon was secretly relieved, even happy, that he was unable to. He saw how those terrifying days changed you, made you into an entirely new person and he lived in fear of what they would have done to him.

You would live a happy life never stepping foot on Arkham Island. The barbed wire, neogothic buildings, unkept gardens - all of that painted a grim picture of an already unwelcoming place. Arkham Asylum looked like Tim Burton's theme park joke was taken too far.

"My condolences, ma'am," the guardian who was leading you said. "Over here, we do everything not to end up in the same room with that freak and you came here willingly."

"Wouldn't call that 'willingly'," you said under your breath. Had Gordon appeared any less desperate or powerless, you wouldn't have agreed.

"Warden Sharp agreed to one hour interview," the guardian continued. He stopped in front of the door to the visiting room, his hand resting on the door handle. "If you need more time, your supervisor gotta send in a query. I know you probably know all the rules but I'm still required to tell you them, so: don't touch the divider, don't provoke him, don't hand out any prohibited objects. The guards are authorized to step in and immediately end the interview should they deem the situation dangerous for either party. Good luck with whatever you have going on, detective."

The guard gave you a sympathetic look and pushed the door open. For some reason, the lighting was outstandingly dim inside the room. While the side where the prisoners sat was bright, the visitors could barely see anything on theirs. Without a hint of anxiety in your step or facial expression, you entered the visiting room.

Once he got to see your outline in the corridor lights, Joker's eyes kept following each of your movements and microexpressions. Even when the bizarre darkness made you disappear for a moment, it felt as if he was still capable of seeing not only you but through you. There was a mischievous yet amused smile on his face. His visual did not terrify you - it no longer could. One simply cannot get scared of clowns after playing statues with the Devil himself.

"I'm a detective with the Gotham Police Department," you said as you sat down and pulled out the file you brought. "We're investigating recent bombings happening throughout the city."

"Sorry, sweetheart, can't remember making anything go ka-byool lately." His handcuffs rattled as he waved his fingers to accentuate his point. Joker's hands were drenched with already dried blood. That sight hit a little too close to home for you but you took a calm, deep breath and didn't let your sudden uneasiness show.

"Maybe not you but one of your old friends possibly had."

You pulled a few papers stuck together with a paperclip out of the police file. Carefully, you slid the small dossier through the small opening in the Plexi divider. It was a very 'train station booking office' design.

At the very top of the papers was a mugshot. The picture presented a heavily tattooed man with a bizarre haircut and a harelip: Cooper, who used to be something akin to an underboss before his boss, Joker, got locked up. Curiously, Cooper seemed to literally vanish off the face of Earth as soon as that happened.

Joker barely spared a glance at the picture when he voiced an opinion with utmost certainty:

"Nah, it's not him."

He pushed the papers back towards you with disinterest. It shouldn't be surprising: he surely knew more about Cooper and his possible associates than the police did. You couldn't tell him anything new.

"What makes you say that?" you asked. Joker only laughed.

"He's an absolute, complete, useless moron. He lacks the, hmm... " he paused looking for the right word while waving his hands, "sophistication for something this big."

"And yet he was your go-to for so many years. How did that work out?"

"Darling, you know what's great about working with idiots?"

"They don't ask questions?"

"Oh, you were so close!" he exclaimed giddily. "They don't question."

Were all antisocial people so nitpicky?

Although the building was old and made of stone, the air inside was very warm. Feeling a little hot, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, reluctantly presenting the very thing that made you eligible for that lovely interrogation you were conducting: various burns and scars left from chains digging into your skin. At least once a day you considered getting full sleeve tattoos to cover them up but it wasn't considered exactly professional among higher ranked police force. You didn't need another stigma following you and your career.

"It's you." Joker cackled with mysterious satisfaction. Was he expecting you? Truthfully, it wouldn't be so surprising: your survival made national news and the demimonde, directly connected to your capturing, could only be equally interested. "Please, indulge me, princess peach."

"How about you tell me what you know about the bombings and I'll tell you about what gives me sleepless nights."

"Aw, you're trynna tease me, officer?" His pronunciation of the title was at least mocking. It didn't impress him one bit and neither did the badge. "I don't like teases. They ruin the fun."

"Treat it as a fair exchange. Intel," you pointed at yourself first, "for intel." You pointed at Joker to make your point.

"And what if you're boring, princess peach?" he asked with a whine in his voice. "Who will guarantee my fun time?"

"No one," you answered with a shrug. Although that wicked smile never left his face, you thought that a shadow of viciousness appeared in his eyes. Something about your aloofness was getting to him. "You either play with fire or there's no deal. Just you and your sad little life in your sad little cell. No fun for either of us."

"Risky business, princess peach," he sang to you.

You had to make him cooperate somehow or anyhow. Momentarily, you leaned closer to the Plexi divider. The tip of your nose was nearly touching it. Joker's smile only widened.

"You tell me what I want and I'll tell you everything you want to know," you said quietly. "Every darkest, most fearful memory I have. You want to hear what he did to me and how? How loud I prayed to God to finally kill me? First, you gotta tell me about Cooper and who he could be working with."

Joker was quiet but appeared very cocky in his silence. For a moment he was simply staring at you, his eyes studying your face - he was evidently waiting for something.

"I'm looking forward to our little dates, sweetheart."

It was suspicious to you that between you and Joker, he was the one imprisoned and yet he seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. He wasn't stupid - he knew you needed him more than he needed you. In fact, he probably had figured out that if Gotham's police goes to him for help, you must be in a really hopeless place. Joker was going to milk your little arrangement as much as he could - that you were already certain of.

#joker x reader #joker x detective!reader #the batman 2022 #the batman fanfiction #the batman fanfic #the batman imagine #joker imagine #joker fanfiction #joker fanfic #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker fanfic #the joker x detective!reader #the joker x you #keoghan!joker x you #keoghan!joker imagine #keoghan!joker fanfiction #keoghan!joker #keoghan!joker x reader

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