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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

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Aftermath (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: Here is my masterlist and here is the link to go to if you’d like to be on any of my taglists! My latest rdr2 fic was a Charles fluffy piece called The Chase if you want to check it out :)

Warnings: mentions of falling off a train, hurt reader, descriptions of wounds and blood, but mostly fluffiness

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After a heist ends badly, Arthur cleans you up and chastises you for not being more careful.

***

Your horse came to a stop in front of the hitch post just outside of camp. You paused for a moment to breathe now that you were safe.

Your heart was still racing from the events of earlier and your hands gripped your horse’s reins so tightly that your knuckles hurt. But that pain was nothing compared to the rest of your body.

“Need a hand, Y/N?” Lenny asked, tying his horse up and moving towards you.

“Get me down before Arthur-,” You stopped, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth making your stomach clench up. You knew it was him.

Lenny helped you down from your horse, catching you as you slipped down from the saddle. You tried to put weight on your left leg, but the pain in your ankle was too much. You nearly collapsed.

“Easy there, Y/N.” Lenny kept his arm around you.

Your eyes caught sight of Arthur and John coming into camp.

“Go, Lenny.” You urged, letting him go and giving him a push away from you.

“Are you sure, Y/N? You can’t even stand on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Lenny.” You assured him, leaning against the hitch post for support. “He’s angry and I don’t want him yellin’ at you.”

“Tie ‘er up.” You heard Arthur tell John, no doubt talking about his horse. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction of his voice.

You took a deep breath and started to make your way across camp to yours and Arthur’s tent. You gritted your teeth together. Your nails dug into your palms from how tightly your fingers were curled up. But you pushed through the pain and kept going. You just needed to make it to the tent before Arthur could make a scene in front of everyone.

“Y/N!” Susan gasped. “What in the hell happened to you, girl?”

You wanted to shake it off, to tell her you were fine, but you knew if you opened your mouth you’d make some sort of pained sound, something that would alert a certain outlaw that you were more injured than you let on.

“Don’t let her walk away from you, Mrs. Grimshaw.” Arthur spoke, his voice deep and devoid of the usual teasing tone he had when he spoke towards you.

“What happened, Arthur?” Hosea moved towards you both, wanting to make sure you were okay.

You shook your head, still hastily walking in the direction of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t acknowledge Arthur.

“Don’t you walk away from me, woman!”

You were so close to the tent, maybe another six steps and then you’d be able to—

A large hand grabbed hold of your arm and he pulled you around to face him. You lost your balance, stepping on to your left leg. You cried out in pain and your knee buckled.

Arthur caught you, one of his arms wrapping around your torso while the other grabbed your hip.

“Let me go, Arthur!” You pushed against him, your hands flat against his chest as you tried to put as much space between yourself and him as possible.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N. Ya got a busted ankle. Shouldn’t be walkin’ on it.”

“I can handle it my-damn-self!” You protested, still pushing against him. You tried to pry his hands away from you, to break his firm grip on you by grabbing his fingers and pulling away but he wasn’t letting go.

“Quit being so goddamned stubborn, woman.” Arthur growled through clenched teeth. “Ya just fell off a fuckin’ movin’ train! Stop tryin’ to act so tough!”

“Get your hands off of me, Arthur Morgan!”

“Enough!” Dutch boomed, sending a wave of silence across the whole camp. It was only then that you realized everyone was watching you look like a fool.

Arthur released you. The second he did, your weight was naturally distributed to both of your legs. You winced and lost your balance, using a crate by John and Abigail’s tent for support.

Arthur flinched as if he’d catch you, but you caught yourself before he could come to the rescue.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dutch asked, a furrow in his brow.

“M’fine.” You forced through gritted teeth. “Wish people would stop askin’ me that.”

“Looks like you got into a bad fight at the saloon and lost.” Micah commented.

“I’ll fucking show you a bad fight, you fucking inbreed-,”

“You better watch your mouth-,”

“I might be torn to hell but I will beat your ass into the ground-,”

“Cool it, both of you!” John intervened, stepping in front of Micah.

“You can barely stand on your own, and you’re covered in blood.” Dutch said.

“S’not my own.” You muttered, but he didn’t bother to listen to you. “Least I don’t think it is.”

“We don’t need you dyin’ off from an infected wound, Y/N. If you won’t let Arthur help you patch yourself up, have one of the girls do it.”

You nodded, locking your jaw tightly.

Hosea shooed everyone away, knowing very well you’d pick Arthur. You were thankful that he’d give you guys some privacy. It was hard when the only walls you had in camp were made of canvas.

“Are ya gonna stop bein’ a stubborn ass so I can help you?” Arthur asked.

You nodded, keeping your eyes down.

He moved towards you, carefully scooping you up bridal style. You winced, eyes squeezing shut. The way you were moved created a sharp pain in your ribs.

Arthur took you to your shared tent and sat you down on the cot.

“Start taking off your clothes.” He moved away from you and began to unravel the sides of the tent to give you privacy.

Your hands were too heavy. Your muscles ached. Even the thought of moving brought on pain. You knew very well you wouldn’t be able to undress by yourself.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to look at you and saw that you were just staring at the picture of his mother he had framed on the chest next to the cot.

“Pumpkin?”

“Hm?” You didn’t tear your eyes away from the picture. He could see it in your eyes. You weren’t really there with him. You were in your head. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, rubbing the side of his head, and moved to kneel down in front of you. The movement caught your attention, drawing your eyes to him.

You took in a little breath, straightening your posture as your eyes focused on him.

“M’gonna go get some things to clean you up with. Get some of your clothes off so I can see what we gotta deal with okay?” His voice, though deep and rumbly, was sweet and gentle. “Maybe put on your little gown, okay? That way we can see everything without you bein’ so uncovered.”

You said nothing, but you kept your eyes on him, on his lips more specifically. He wasn’t sure if you were actually getting everything he was saying, or if you were still zoned out.

“Can you do that for me, pumpkin?”

You nodded your head a little.

He rubbed the outside of your thigh before standing up and leaving the tent.

You watched him go and for some reason seeing him leave made your heart beat harder and faster. Tears stung your eyes and you quickly brought your hand up to wipe them away.

The events of earlier that day flashed through your head.

It was supposed to be an easy train robbery. Dutch and Hosea had planned it out with Arthur taking the lead. You joined him with Lenny, John, Javier, and Sean.

Everything went smoothly until another group of eight men on horses showed up with plans to rob the train themselves. And as luck would have it, you used to run with one of the men. He was anything but a nice guy and definitely not someone you wanted to run into during a heist.

When Arthur returned to the tent, he found you sitting on the cot hunched forward with your head in your hands. You weren’t changed out of your clothes and it appeared that you were crying.

He placed the bowl of warm water down on the chest by the cot and put the other supplies in his arms down as well.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were red.

“Are you cryin’ cause I was yellin’ at ya?”

You shook your head.

“Are you hurtin’?”

You nodded.

“Where at, pumpkin?”

“Everywhere, Arthur.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Don’t start that now.” He shook his head. “Won’t do you any good to start apologizin’ while you’re upset like this. It’ll just make ya even more upset. Don’t want ya makin’ yourself sick. Now let’s get you outta these clothes.”

“I-I can’t-Arthur, I’m just-,” You couldn’t seem to form sentences even though you knew what you wanted to say. The adrenaline had worn off and you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, but you knew Arthur wouldn’t let you do that just yet.

“S’alright, pumpkin. I’ll help ya.” He reached up and began to unbutton your shirt.

You fell silent, sniffling every now and then.

Once your shirt was unbuttoned, he carefully pulled it off of your shoulders.

“Shit, Y/N.” Arthur cursed under his breath. With your shirt gone, the bruising on your arms and chest could now be seen.

There were hand-shaped bruises along your upper arms and a few cuts on the back of your right forearm. Your chest had a long bruise across it too. It was an odd pattern and Arthur couldn’t figure out quite what it was.

“I-I didn’t….” Arthur reached out to tentatively trace his fingers over the bruising on your bicep. “Did I….?”

“No.” Your voice was raspy. “That’s not from you. There was a man on the train. He caught me off guard. He’s the one who gave me a busted face.”

Arthur pressed his lips together in a firm line. You could see the anger festering behind his eyes. His large hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across the corner of your cracked lips. You winced a little. He apologized softly.

“What about the one on your chest?”

“There was another feller, he used a metal bar to clothes line me.”

He pulled his hand from your face, eyes lingering on the nasty bruise on your chest.

“The second I got my footing, I put a knife between his ribs.”

“That’s my girl.” He praised, making your heart race.

Arthur reached around you to find the strings to your corset. With one effortless tug, the corset loosened and you took a breath.

“I know you’re happy to be outta that.” Arthur tossed the corset to the foot of the cot. “Ya think you could stand so we can get your jeans offa ya?”

“I can stand on my right, but not my left.”

“I’ll be on your left. You lean against me. How about that?”

You nodded. Arthur stood up and helped you to your feet. You slipped an arm around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of his jacket to brace yourself. He put an arm around you too.

“How am I supposed to get my jeans off when I got one arm around you and you got one arm around me?” You asked him.

He paused for a moment and you watched as he thought about it.

“Well, I gotta hand and you gotta hand. Why don’t we use ‘em both?” He suggested.

You giggled.

It took some effort, but the two of you worked together to unbutton your jeans and get them down.

Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he saw the cut on your thigh. How did he not see it before?

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“M’fine, Arthur.”

He got you into your nightgown and then sat you back down on the bed.

He started with the thigh wound, cleaning the dried blood and then wrapping a bandage around your leg. From there, he looked down at your ankle. A bruise had already formed and around the joint was swollen.

He sighed out, then turned his attention to the bowl of warm water. He dipped the clean rag into the water and rung it out. His eyes flickered up to your face. He paused for a moment.

Your nose had been bleeding but now the blood was smeared across your cheek, dried. Bruising trailed from underneath your eye down to your cheekbone where a cut was from a fist. Your lips were busted and split open. The corners of your eyes were black and blue. Your nose didn’t look broken, so that was good.

He let out another sigh. You knew he was trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“I…. Arthur, m’sorry.” You whispered, your voice breaking from how quiet you were.

He shook his head. His jaw ticked as the muscle tightened. He was gritting his teeth together.

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N? Told you to wait for Javier or John. I knew there were men coming but you didn’t listen.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“But I wouldn’t’a been thrown from the goddamned train.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumbled under your breath.

Arthur took hold of your chin, turning your head so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Don’t get that way with me, pumpkin.” He started to wipe blood from under your nose. “You could’ve died today. I…. I could’ve lost ya.”

You fell silent.

He cleaned the blood from your face, using soft, gentle brushes with the rough rag.

“Arthur? Y/N?” Mary Beth spoke from outside of the tent.

“It’s alright, Mary Beth.” Arthur dipped the rag into the water. “You can step in.”

You looked to him then down at his chest.

“Just wanted to bring Y/N some supper. Thought maybe she’d be hungry.” Her eyes found you and she gasped softly. “Oh, Y/N. You….” She trailed off.

“I’m okay.” You assured her, offering her a little smile.

“Thank you, Mary Beth.” Arthur took the bowl of soup from her and placed it down on the chest by the cot.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asked softly.

“Get me some fresh water in this bowl please, would ya?” Arthur asked her.

“Of course.”

As she slipped out of the tent, Arthur returned his attention to you.

“The man who threw me over….” You started, but trailed off, unable to finish.

“I’m gonna find him and kill ‘em.”

“No, Arthur.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at Arthur. “Please. You-You have to promise me never-to never go after him. I’m-I’m fine. Just a little beat up is all.”

Arthur furrowed his brows together.

“Do you…. You know that feller, don’t you?”

“Used to run with him.” You answered quietly. “He’s not someone you play with, Arthur. He’s worse than Micah.”

Arthur sighed through his nose.

“And you didn’t think to tell me back there that you knew him?”

“It wasn’t really high on my list when we had fellers shootin’ at us, Arthur.”

He rubbed his brow.

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“M’not mad at ya, pumpkin. Just…. I was scared that I was gonna lose you.”

You turned your head away from him but he wouldn’t let you look away for very long. With two fingers beneath your chin, he turned your head back to him.

“When I saw you go over the side of that train, I-I fuckin’ lost it. Nearly beat the piss outta poor Lenny ‘cause he was in my way. Couldn’t get to you fast enough.” Arthur shook his head. He brushed a tear from your cheek. “When we finally stopped the train and I found you….” He trailed off.

“It don’t matter now, Arthur. I’m here.” You reminded him, turning your head to kiss his palm.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, Y/N.”

“We got dangerous lives, Arthur. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can damn sure try.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You mean the world to me, pumpkin. Ain’t gonna let shit happen to you. Even if that means I gotta stop you from doin’ stupid shit.”

You smiled a little, leaning forward to tuck your head underneath his chin.

Taglist: @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fluff #arthur morgan oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

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volleychumps · 4 years

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ive been feeling fluffy lately and can u make scenarios where s/o accidentally bump or crash into akaashi, iwaizumi, kuroo, oikawa, and eita and s/o highkey has a crush on them and shocked and doesn’t know how to react but then suddenly gets a kiss on the lips/cheek/nose with a confession? idk if this makes sense loll! thx!

Awh, I’ll do a continuation of this one for the requested boys, thank you for the request, love I know you’ve been waiting a bit<3

Accidental Confessions w/ Akaashi, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Semi

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Akaashi

The library bustled with light chatter as your earbuds played a light tune in your ears as you scanned the bookshelves, deep in thought as you decided on what to grab. The aisle was more isolated away from the others, and you didn’t mind- most people were here to study anyway, uninterested in the aisle that held the older novels.

Your eyes widen a little when you begin to pull a certain book out, the whole shelf seeming to rock with your movement as you still immediately, wanting not to cause a commotion if the shelf were to fall along with the many books obviously over-stacked on the shelves. You bite back a groan, glancing around before deciding to quickly pull the book out anyway, thinking if you were fast enough, the shelf wouldn’t be able to lose its’ weak sturdiness.

The shelf immediately begins to lurch forward, and you panic, shutting your eyes tightly on instinct, knowing your current upper body strength wouldn’t be able to support such a hardware. All you could do was pray it wouldn’t lurch far enough to fall-

You wince for potential impact, instead hearing quick footsteps and the sound of two hands jutting against the shelf. You hear books fall to your feet, and put your hands over your head in case any fell on you.

Either you were just lucky, or-

“Must be a really good book then, huh?”

You open your eyes just in time to see a hard-covered book hit Akaashi Keiji’s head, one of his blue-green eyes shutting at the impact in slight pain. The heat flames to your cheeks before you can control it, glancing around to realize if your now distanced friend hadn’t been there, you could have been squashed flat. His hands were resting on either side of you, arms outstretched as he had ducked his head to cover yours from any falling books.

The tune still playing in your ears seemed muffled as you tried to grasp the situation, a stutter fumbling into your words.

“I’m so s-sorry, does it hurt?” You melt into panic, looking away from anywhere except Akaashi’s usual blunt stare.

“Getting hit by books is never fun. Now I know how Bokuto feels.”

You shrink away, attempting to escape from Akaashi’s human cage.

“Thank you, Keiji.” You manage out in doing so, still not meeting the eyes of someone you once called a friend before certain feelings led to you avoiding him. “We should get you checked-”

“Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?”

Fuck.

“I’m not. And we should really go to the nurse-”

“Y/N.” Your mouth goes dry when Akaashi tugs one of your earbuds out, leaning into you even more as you’re suddenly thankful for the isolated aisle. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You exclaim, fumbling your words. “I-I did something wrong! And it would just be easier to ignore everything I feel for you, but I can’t when I’m near you all the time-”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes widening as you try to run again, but Akaashi easily keeps you in place, the blunt blue stare seeming to have another emotion swimming amongst his eyes matching the ocean.

“Y/N.”

“W-What?”

“I just saved you from a bookshelf and potential death. Do me a favor.”

“What?” You repeat in a squeak, shying away behind your book as Akaashi merely shows a ghost of a smile, pushing the book away as you back into the bookshelf, eyes widening at the proximity.

The book cluttered to your feet amongst the others, the tune in your one ear still playing as Akaashi slipped the loose earbud in, filling your ears with music and your chest with symphony as his lips pressed tightly against your forehead.

“Just let me say that I like you too, will you?”

Iwaizumi

“Sit here! I’ll be right back!”

Iwaizumi didn’t really know how he ended up here.

The ace watches as you rush out of your kitchen with flushed features, examining the few cuts on his hand and legs from the fall of his bike. Your morning jog just so happened to be one you lost yourself in, your foot entangling with one of Iwa’s wheels that led to his painful outcome and you insisting you come back to yours to assess the damage.

Iwa crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter before wincing a little. This was nothing. The whole reason he had even accepted was-

“I found the kit-!”

Iwa watches amusedly as you trip over yourself in your return, stumbling a little before giving him a cute apologetic bow and settling next to him, fiddling with the opening of the kit.

“I’m really fine, Y/N.”

Iwa arches a brow when your movements still, and your blossomed cheeks had the ace feel pride swell in his chest at his effect on you.

“W-Wait, you know me?”

“We’re in the same class.” Iwa attempts to play it off, clearing his throat. Truth be told, the ace had heard of your cutesy crush on him a few weeks ago, only making Iwaizumi notice you more and more with each passing day. Of course, he was really good about being discreet about it-

still, that didn’t cover the smirk on his face when he caught you glancing his way once or twice.

“Right...”

“That is why you invited me here, right?” Iwa sweatdrops. “You don’t just let random men you don’t know-”

“No! Of course not!” You rush out embarrasedly as Iwa hides his teasing smirk, covering his mouth with his hand as you sterilize a cotton swab. “I do know you...”

Iwaizumi closes his eyes at the stinging on his cheek as you gently glide the swab over it, disinfecting it thoroughly as your heart pounds at the situation. How had your crush ended up seated in your empty kitchen on a Sunday morning?

“Is your bike alright?” Your shaky voice makes conversation as Iwa takes another teasing jab, scoff in his words.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“T-That’s not what I mean!” You whine, even more embarrassed than before as Iwa’s chest rises with a chuckle. This was fun.

“Where else?!” You question, wanting this to be over with once you placed a bandaid over the cuts on his cheek and hands.

“My back.”

You spin around hastily when Iwa deadass takes his shirt off, flexing a little as you hide your face in your hands, not believing this was happening. You take a shaky breath that had a coy grin tickling Iwa’s lips as he feels your hands gently trace up his back to his wound.

“Enjoying yourself?” Iwa questions as your silence makes him turn around a little, smirk fading when he sees you had buried your face in your hands once again.

“Please stop teasing me.” Your hushed voice mumbles into your palms as Iwa immediately feels the guilt wash over him, prompting the dark haired boy to turn around completely.

“Hey- I’m sorry.” Iwa gently tugs one of your hands away from your voice to reveal your teary eyes and blushing face, eyes widening at the sight as a warmth spread over his chest.

“You’re fun to mess with- I didn’t mean to go that far.”

Iwa feels something in him snap when you pout, nodding and refusing to meet his eyes before he pulls the wrist in his hand towards him, causing you to lean a little into him as your eyes widen.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Hm?”

Your face burns at the feel of Iwa brushing his lips against your cheek, causing you to wrench out of his grip and stumble back in absolute shock. You control your breathing as Iwa pulls his shirt back on over his head, looking at you casually before swinging his bike keys on one finger.

“So do you want to go on a date, or what?”

Kuroo

“Please grab him!”

Kuroo’s eyes widen as the cutest cat he had ever seen leaps up into his arms with ease, a grin spreading out across the captain’s features as he strokes its’ soft fur as it purrs, snuggling into his arms.

Apparently, the owner of this cat just happened to be the cutest person, in his book. For awhile now, actually.

You groan, jogging lightly up to the boy you knew as the captain of the volleyball team while bowing your head apologetically as Kuroo’s grin only widens at the sight of you. You plant your feet on the sidewalk, smiling a little at the way your cat seemed to be content with the feel of Kuroo’s arms.

“I’m so sorry!” You click your tongue, carefully taking your pet from the captain’s arms and setting it on the ground as your cat rubs up against one of your legs, grinning a tad apologetically. “Kuroo-senpai!”

Kuroo didn’t know what to say, chuckling a little awkwardly as a heat tickled his ears. You weren’t strangers for the most part, you were just the girl who passed by him after the third bell with the same friend everyday, always offering him a bright smile and nod as you strolled past him.

And he continued to look for that smile at the same time of each day, a little more bounce to his step each time your lips stretched for him.

“It’s nothing, little fella got loose, did he?” Kuroo crosses his arms, fighting to keep the nervous crack out of his voice as you sigh, running the hand that wasn’t holding the loose leash through your hair.

“He hates walks because of this thing, so I’m not that surprised.”

“Walking a cat is a rare sight to see.”

“You’re a rare sight to see.” You counter, tone teasing as Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction as the heat spreads to his cheeks. “Shouldn’t you be like, spiking a volleyball right now?”

Before Kuroo could question whether or not you paid attention in a flirtatious manner, a tug at his legs stopped him as the captain reacts quickly-

Your pet, as a form of hell to pay, had casually walked a circle around the two of you with both of you failing to notice, walking off as the leash slowly tightened around your pairs of ankles, prompting you to trip as your ankles become tied together.

A squeak slips your lips as Kuroo turns, relasing a loud groan as his back hits the concrete, your front falling onto his chest as Kuroo instinctively wrapped his arms around you for utmost protection.

“You damn cat!” You groan, trying to get up to no avail as said cat licks its’ paw from a distance, causing you to roll your eyes before realizing the situation you were in.

You lift yourself up a little with both arms, a blush rushing to your face at how close your face and the captain’s was as Kuroo’s slackened jaw tightens to form a smirk.

“Falling for me, are you?”

“Talk about cheesy.” You laugh awkwardly, beginning to scramble off. “Again, I’m so sorry-”

Kuroo’s arms tighten around your waist, tugging you back down to hold you tightly from this position as the captain’s feral eyes seem to gaze up at the sky, you stuttering as you look up from his chest with blossomed cheeks.

“S-Senpai?”

“Just a little longer.” His arms tighten. “Please?”

The beat of silence was filled with shock as your eyes widen at the sound of Kuroo’s chest beating rapidly, the captain chuckling when you seemed to be listening a bit too intently.

“Now would probably be a good time for me to tell you that you’re the cutest girl I’ve wanted to take out for awhile, huh?”

Oikawa

“Gotcha!”

You blanch as Oikawa Tooru’s gym bag falls to the ground with a thud, catching you in the flashiest way possible before you could fully hit the ground, your papers flittering around you like snow as you bite back a groan. One of your hands rested on the captain’s chest, your waist in the hands of the one and only-

Really, right in front of his fangirls? You think, reminded of the salad meme as you scramble out of the brunette’s hold, rushing past him with a rushed thank you in hopes to avoid the herd.

“W-Wait, Y/N-chan!”

You nod to his friend Matsukawa in thanks as you accept your now collected papers, ignoring his calls as you turned the corner hastily, embarrassment flooding your cheeks along with a strange beat in your chest.

“Mattsun, I failed again...” Oikawa’s hand slackens as a pout overtakes the brunette’s lips as Matsukawa shrugs, amused by the whole situation as he nods over to the poorly-hidden fanclub.

“Blame them.”

Oikawa groans, turning to glare at his fellow senior. “I said help me win her over, not trip her!”

“I’m no miracle worker.” Matsukawa simply shrugs, pocketing his hands in his school pants as he grins in the direction you had run off in. “Still, I get it. You want the girl who’s not a complete ditz for you.”

“That’s not why!” Oikawa denies, brushing past the group of girls vying for his attention. “Y/N’s special. She doesn’t...”

“Treat you like the asshole you are?”

“Yeah! That!” Oikawa snaps before realization dawns on the brunette’s features, glaring at a cackling Matsukawa. “Wait, no-”

“I can’t believe we’re friends.”

Oikawa’s sassy retort falls on deaf ears as Matsukawa turns into his class, offering a single wave to his captain as Oikawa groans, heading in his own direction as he wonders if he’ll ever be able to tell you, deciding to skip class to sulk in his sadness.

Rounding a corner, he’s surprised to see none-other than your figure sitting quietly in a secluded staircase that was hardly used, seeming to be skipping as well as you tapped a pen to your lips, working on some forgotten homework as a pile of the previous scattered papers sat at your side. Oikawa’s lips pull into a natural smile at your content features, his heart rate picking up, thinking he was being given another chance.

The brunette considers his next course of action, grinning before shaking your shoulders and scaring you out of nowhere.

“Y/N-chan~!”

You jump, a small scream erupting from your mouth before you hastily cover your mouth with widened eyes meeting chocolate ones as Oikawa flinches, not expecting you to react that way.

“Who’s there?” An authoritive voice booms as you both seem to panic at the same time, and the next thing the captain knows, your papers were shoved messily into your bag before your hand tugged at his sleeve as you ran, pulling him along in the process.

You throw the door to an unused classroom open before dragging Oikawa in and sliding the door shut quietly, not bothering with the light as Oikawa watches with widened eyes, thoroughly impressed.

“You-!”

Oikawa swallows, nodding obediently when you put a finger to his lips, listening for the chaser’s footsteps to fade away before you sigh, flicking the light on before glaring at the brunette.

“Are you insane?”

“In my defense- who could’ve guessed that corridor echoed?” Oikawa responds with an easy smile as you relax a little at the sight before going to retort-

The footsteps come again, prompting Oikawa to panic and tugging you so your back hits the wall next to the door, shushing you as you did to him as the easy smile comes back as his pointer finger rests against your lips as he seizes the opportunity.

“If we get caught, I just want you to know that I love you.”

Oikawa’s breath hitches when you roll your eyes, prompting the brunette to tilt your head up carefully, brown eyes drifting over yours before cupping your face and kissing the tip of your nose just as the footsteps race past the door, your stunned features causing the captain to smirk at the pink that lightens your cheeks.

“I wasn’t joking.”

Semi

The car seemed to have come out of nowhere, and your feet stilled on the crosswalk stupidly as the sign for pedestrians continued to flash as the driver tried to skid to a stop-

but it was clear that it wouldn’t be enough.

The breath gets knocked out of you as soon as you clench your eyes shut tight, trembling at what was to come until you realize that the car wasn’t what caused your loss of breath.

Semi Eita pants, chest heaving as both of the setter’s arms supported his weight off of you, nonetheless protecting you from the horrid outcome that was darting straight at you as his brown eyes lit up, brimmed with fury and worry. You lay on your back, frozen in shock at the fast-paced events as the street of cars zoomed past the two of you on the sidewalk.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Your classmate questions, backing off immediately when he sees your eyes well up with tears, voice shaky as you stare up at him, unblinking as the fear trickles over.

“T-The sign...”

Semi sighs, turning to flick off the driver who was asking if you were okay before telling him to get the hell out of there, helping you to your feet in doing so. The walk to school should have been like any other day, Semi walking behind you to the same destination about eight feet away with his eyes trained on the back of your head-

ever since you had held back the eight feet to wait for him on a rainy day, ushering him under the umbrella so you could both get to school at least semi-dry, Semi Eita had made it a point to work up the nerve to walk to school with you as an every day occurence-

Even if was eight feet away, content with making sure you made it there safe.

“Can you walk okay?” Your classmate’s voice was unusually softer, yet still had his custom hard edge to it as all thoughts of making it to school on time faded from his head.

You blink, seeming to be in a daze as you stared at the ongoing traffic that seemed to be going about as it normally would as you begin to imagine what you would have looked like under it. Semi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, not used to being so close to you as you begin to tremble before sighing.

“Don’t worry about being late. Sensei wouldn’t-”

“I could’ve died...”

Semi’s eyes widen when you wrap your arms around yourself, still shaking.

“...right?”

“I mean, yeah?” Semi regretted the words as soon as they slipped, watching as a new round of tears came on as the trembling turned almost violent as a hand covered your mouth.

“Oh my god-!” You hiccup, and the setter panics, moving before he can think.

Semi’s hands cautiously take your face gently, forcing you to look at his eyes. “You’re alive. You’re fine.”

“I-I’m not-!” You seem to be on the edge of falling to panic, and Semi’s eyes widen even more as he realizes he needs to bring you back and grounded, making a split decision before he can back out.

“Close your eyes.” Semi instructs, an authority edge to his callous voice that had you listening as the tears continued-

The trembling seeming to lift completely as soon as Semi Eita’s lips press against yours tightly, sending your mind awhirl in a way that had him holding you against him tighter until your breathing evens out, the buildup of anxiety fading at the feeling of the amount of emotion behind the setter’s actions.

You’re still sniffling when the setter pulls back slightly, uncaring of the public eyes of traffic.

“S-Semi?” You manage out, wiping your eyes as Semi’s breaths take a turn to become shaky, the setter looking down with his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll take you to school from now on.” The words came out confidently as Semi’s thumb catches a few stray tears, locking eyes with you as the anxious feeling in your chest is replaced with a beating one- one you could hear in your ears.

“Would that be okay?” He presses, not prepared for the small smile that takes over your features before you reach up and press your lips against his cheek sweetly, taking the setter off-guard as Semi finds himself interlacing your fingers with his.

“Okay.”

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

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littlesniggy · 3 years

Note

Hi! Idk if you’re already at Wano Kuni and if not please just ignore it but would you consider doing either nsfw headcanons or scenario for Kaido? Maybe some female pirate tries to take him down and he keeps her as a pet? You can make it dark if you want to!

Love your writing so so much!

There is always a first time for writing for a character and yes, I've almost caught up with the latest episode so I know enough about Kaido. It was a challenge to write for him though since I haven't really thought about his sex life, what he likes and what he doesn't, so I'm not sure if this might be a little ooc? But I hope you still enjoy it!

Warning: 18+, nsfw, dub-con!!, Master/pet, mention of humiliation, mention of violence

Pairing: Kaido x pet female! reader

Word count: 2.2k

“Worororo.” His deep voice rumbled through the huge cave, echoing from the cold walls and making you feel like you were standing in front of a monster. Well, technically he was a monster; especially in his dragon form and even like this was he simply a mountain of a man. What were you thinking when you decided to take him on? Did you really think you had a chance against the strongest creature? How foolish could you be?

The emperor was sitting on his huge throne, a bottle of sake in his hand, drinking it like it was water. You were amazed as to how he could drink this much and still be able to fight. When you tried to take him on you thought you had a chance once he was flat out drunk – but you were gravely mistaken.

“C’mon. Try again.” He laughed, his eyes watching you in amusement. You were panting heavily, stray strands of hair clinging to your face. You were sweating like a pig. If it was because of the heat or your futile attempts at hurting the man in front of you, you weren’t sure and you didn’t care. You got even angrier at his mocking tone; to the point he made you feel helpless.

Gathering the last bit of strength you had left in your body you punched him right in his face; there wasn’t even a slight crunch indicating a broken bone. But your hand hurt instead. “Fuck!” you cursed, holding your fist; tears of humiliation and pain gathered in your eyes and you averted your gaze, not wanting him to see your tears.

“So weak….it’s almost pathetic.” He chuckled, taking another huge sip of booze. “Is this all you’ve got?” when you didn’t answer, he let out a disgusted sound of disapproval, his expression changing from amused to displeased.

“No will to fight, no devil fruit power – I should just kill you to save you from this miserable life.” His hand searched for his huge mace, finding it and swinging it as a warning. You looked up, your eyes following the weapon warily but you suppressed the urge to flinch. You felt his eyes on your form, a contemplating look on his face.

Suddenly, he stroke out, the mace swinging towards you at an incredible fast speed, ready to strike you with full force. You shut your eye tightly, held your breath and waited for the impact that was sure to hit you – but it never happened. After what felt like an eternity you opened your eyes slowly, seeing the weapon only inches away from your face. Your whole body was trembling uncontrollably and your knees gave in, making you fall to the ground.

Fear clung to your body like a second skin and the tears you tried to hold back so bravely were now running down your cheeks, uncontrollable sobs leaving your body. I thought he’d kill me! You always thought you didn’t fear death; that you would welcome it like an old friend once your time came but GOD! – how much you had been mistaking! You didn’t want to die!

“Worororo.” The mace was slowly retreated and Kaido watched your sobbing form in front of him. “Are you scared of dying?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “I like the look of fear on your face. I want to see it more often.” His words made you shudder in fear. What does he mean? Didn’t he want to kill you?

He got up, weaving two steps to the side, the alcohol slightly clouding his senses. You didn’t date look up at the man in front of you, wishing he’d just somehow forget about you and let you leave but this was futile, you knew. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach for something out of your sight and shortly after something black was dropped in front of you.

“Put it on.” He demanded. Your eyes skimmed the black leather piece, decorated with small metal thorns. It was a collar! Incredulously, you took the collar in your hands, your fingers feeling the cold, stiff leather. Why did he have something like this?

“Put it on!” he got louder and you flinched at his demand. With shaky hands you put the degrading piece of ‘jewelry’ around your neck, the leather tightening around your throat and you felt like it was already choking you.

“Wororororo. Get naked. Pets don’t wear clothes.” Your body acted on its own and piece after piece dropped to the ground, exposing your over the years as a pirate trained body, some battle scars and slightly dried skin from the salty sea water. The emperor’s eyes wandered over your body while he took another huge chug of his sake before realizing it was already empty. Angrily, he smashed the empty bottle on the ground; you had to dodge some broken pieces that flew in all directions to not get hit.

“Bring me new booze!” he yelled at you, his furious eyes piercing you. Your body was frozen in place and you couldn’t move, even if you wanted to.

All of a sudden, you were choking in his grip, legs in the air, struggling for support, your hands clawing at his huge hand.

“Useless pet.” He growled, his grip tightening around your neck, the thorns of your new collar poking into his hand but he barely felt anything. Since his hand was so huge he was not only choking you but also crushing your upper body with his iron grip. You felt that your bones were about to break, pain rushing through your body. You couldn’t decide what you should focus on first; your lack of air filling your lungs or the quiet crunching of your body.

Kaido’s eyes narrowed at you, then they looked past you to an entering subordinate. “Kaido-sama, I-“ but he was cut off. “Bring me more booze!” the emperor ordered the man, walking back to his throne, your body like a doll in his huge hand. At least his grip eased a little, giving you room to breathe properly again.

He sat down and placed you on his thigh, his hand moving down from your neck and upper body to your hips, his grip holding you in place. You weren’t sure how to behave but you knew for a fact that any wrong movement would trigger this unpredictable man and you weren’t keen on finding out what else he would do to you.

The first time he took you it was hell. He took you to his bed and you knew what he wanted to do even without telling you. He ordered you to get on your knees on his bed. When you tried to fight him he simply pressed you down with ease. You heard a rustling noise behind you and out of the corner of your eye you saw how he took out his huge member and your breath caught in your throat. This is never going to fit! Your mind screamed and you just wanted to get away from him. But it was futile.

He wasn’t a big talker during sex and he didn’t appreciate it when you pleaded with him to let you go, to go slower and give you some time to adjust. It hurt like hell and after he was done your body was a giant ball of pain. Your body was covered in his cum and he just pushed you out of his bed, telling you to get lost.

The times after that were no better. Each time, he thrusted into your body like it was some kind of sex doll, pressing your face into the mattress to shut you up. His deep grunts were the only sounds that filled the room and to your dismay he wasn’t someone who came fast. It was an ordeal.

The first time you had to suck him off your jaw just locked and you couldn’t close it afterwards. It took a while and a lot or effort and pain to be able to close it again. Kaido just watched you in amusement, his cum dripping out of your mouth and dripping onto your exposed chest.

Kaido had also no shame in getting walked in on, just continuing with either fucking your mouth or pussy while his subordinates just awkwardly telling him the latest news. It was humiliating but there was nothing you could do about it.

Over time, you got used to his treatment and had learned to ‘always be prepared’, as bad as it sounded. You had realized that it was bearable when you stretched yourself beforehand. Was it humiliating? For sure. Was it necessary? Absolutely. Kaido once caught you stretching yourself and since then he had you do it in front of him. He liked the show.

You were on all four again, your rear exposed to the emperor behind you, your core already dripping. Kaido took his place behind you, his hand stroking his erect dick lazily. His other hand was holding the bottle of booze, taking a huge gulp. You felt his dick press against your entrance, pushing further and further until the tip disappeared inside of your pussy. You grabbed the bed sheet with your hands, trying to relax around his member.

With a fast snap he buried himself inside of your body completely, taking another gulp of his booze. Some of it dropped onto your back, the cold liquid giving you goosebumps. His hand found its way into your hair, grabbing it uncomfortably tight. His hips started to move against your body, hard and merciless. He was only chasing his own orgasm and he didn’t care if you enjoyed it or not.

A clatter echoed through the room and you saw the bottle burst into a thousand pieces. His now free hand found its way on your hip, pressing you against his body. His dick was filling you out and the sheer force of his thrusts made your body jerk back and forth on the bed.

Kaido let his nails rake down your body, leaving red and bloody streams on your skin. You arched your back, clenching around his dick in response. Kaido raised his eyebrow at your response and chuckled. His pace got faster and his hand on your head pressed your upper body down on the bed, his body leaning over yours, his other hand supporting his weight on the bed next to your head.

“Ah!” you panted, a seemingly long forgotten feeling spreading through your body – lust. The emperor’s fierce thrusts actually made you feel good! – and you didn’t know what to do. Never would’ve you imagined that this brutal man could actually manage to please you, even though it probably wasn’t his intention at all.

The small pants became more frequent and turned into moans, the sound of raw skin on skin slapping against each other made your stomach tingle in excitement and for the first time you started to actively move against him.

Kaido was moving inside of you like a wild animal, his animalistic instincts taking over and he took you like a wild beast in heat. Apparently, he was quite fond of your moans since he didn’t press your face into the mattress as usually when he wanted you to shut up.

“K-Kaido-sama!” you moaned, trying to look at him over your shoulder but he wouldn’t let you. He huffed, a low growl rumbling through his chest and his grip in your hair tightened. The good feeling inside of you grew stronger and stronger, a tight knot forming inside of you, threatening to burst with each thrust.

Even in his drunken and animalistic state he noticed how your pussy started to tighten around his dick and he knew you were close. “If you wanna cum, cum. But don’t expect me to stop.” He warned you. It was the first time he actually talked to you while he was buried inside of you. A desperate moan left your body and you tried your hardest to prolong your own orgasm but each thrust made it harder and harder.

With a specifically hard thrust he finally pushed you over the edge. Colorful spots spread across your vision, blurring your surroundings as you cam hard around his dick, your walls clenching and unclenching. A loud moan filled the room when you came, your body trembling due to the sheer force.

But Kaido wasn’t done yet. His stamina was impressive, really, but right now you hated him for it. The high you were just on slowly faded away and his hard thrusts brought you back to reality. You wanted to complain, to tell him to stop but you knew better. As uncomfortable as the feeling right now was, he was in a good mood. And you would be the most stupid person to try and change that.

When he finally came with a low grunt on your back he didn’t push you out of his bed immediately. He was lying next to you on the bed, his breath already even again. There was a silence between the two of you for a moment, before his deep voice broke it.

“Bring me more sake. I’m getting sober again.”

#one piece #op #op imagine #ns.fw #dub.con #kaido #op kaido #kaido x reader #straw hats #op x reader #master/pet #x reader #female reader #mention of violence

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hawksky · 3 years

Text

You wake up on your ex's fire escape; wc 2.5k

A/N: I don't really know how to categorize this ? starts as funny, gets into angst with a happy/hopeful ending. I might write this again for another character and make it 0 angst but using Megumi just let this get away from me. Thank you @sixeyesgojo for reading through my first draft, it helped me edit a lot since 😘. Although I have not looked over the ending since I wrote it, I'm done working on this fic so sorry if it falls flat.

CW: Mentions of excessive alcohol consumption.

Suggested listening: song 1 and song 2 you can pick just one to cater your experience (they are VERY different vibes) or switch over around the shampoo situation.

Objectively, there were good ways to wake up. In the arms of a beautiful person, with cold sheets and a warm body, or with the scent of your favourite breakfast wafting through the air. No disrespect to mornings at all, there were good ways to wake up, you were mature enough to recognize this.

A perplexingly rough, wet, and warm sensation gliding across your cheek, while last night’s jeans dug into your waist, and there was a pounding in your head? It was fairly safe to say this was not a good way to wake up.

It spoke volumes for how out of it you were that it was only just beginning to register in your brain that you weren’t at home, you were not even on a bed, and that the continued licks across your face were the work of animal far too large to be one of your friends cats.

“Fucking hell you’re supposed to be intimidating” you hear a voice grumble without much heat behind it.

As you forced your eyes open you are met with an excited dog tapping its paws in excitement of your presence, and the man behind the half hearted grumble. His gaze was unmistakably familiar, but his expression could not be more foreign to you.

“uhm, Hi” you croaked out while plastering a wide grin in hopes he wouldn’t murder you.

His eyebrow raised on instinct in response. You knew he was waiting for you to explain what you were doing, but the reality was you didn’t have an answer.

“I wish I could explain, but honestly I’m not sure what happened – last thing I remember was being bought another shot… Wait, where am I exactly?” You were desperately hoping you came off as charming instead of pathetic given the circumstances.

“How out of it are you?” he scrunched his face in confusion as he muttered to himself. “You’re on my fire escape, it’s in Ikebukuro? Tokyo… Japan, in case you needed the reminder”

It felt infantilizing to have him scold you like this, which only made this next part all the more difficult. You were not supposed to be Ikebukuro. You were not supposed to be in Tokyo. You were supposed to be in Yokohama. What was even more concerning is that you were definitely not supposed to be on your old fire escape, the one connected to the apartment your ex still lived in.

As you painstakingly pushed yourself upright, a warm weight laid on your upper thigh, a furry face nuzzling into your stomach – you wondered if she was aware of tension between you and her owner. You scratched behind her ears, letting Jade know she was in fact a good girl despite the earlier reprimand from her owner.

As much as you’d love to spend the day sitting on a fire escape petting your ex’s dog, you had to go home, you just need to call –

Your phone. Where was your phone? You felt around frantically for your phone, only to come up with nothing. A light sense of panic bubbles in the pit of your stomach, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“it’s already charging, I plugged it in last night, you dropped in inches away from falling down”

So, he was still watching you despite having returned inside long ago. It was difficult for you to parse this sort of gesture, how caring could it be to plug someone’s phone in when you still left them to sleep outside? Maybe he was just doing everything he could to get rid of you. It was too much to try and analyze for someone who blacked out and woke up in a different city.

“Why did you come here?” you hear him bite out from inside. It sounds harsh, but it feels like his stange way of inviting you inside.

“I don’t know what you’ve picked up from these circumstances, but not knowing is kind of a part of the problem. Believe me, there’s no amount of conscious desperation that would leaf me to sleeping on a fire escape, even yours”

You glanced around the apartment to avoid his void expression; it was spotless. But it was even harder noticing, the turned over picture frames, your favourite quilt still on the back of the couch – remnants of the past living in the present.

This tension only increased as a mug of freshly brewed green tea was placed in front of you. How thoughtful to remember you hated coffee, to realize your throat was probably killing you – you would have tasted a creeping bitterness from all these emotions, if it wasn’t overpowered by what was the distinct taste of your favourite brand that had to be special ordered.

He had always complained, there were plenty of good options for tea at the grocery store, why wasn’t that enough for you? It was so much extra effort to special order from a tea shop across town, the only place that you were able to charm the owner into ordering for you.

“How are you still so fucking awful at taking care of yourself?” he spat the words out like an insult, it was jarring honestly. Despite the time away from each other, it was no less strange to feel his detachment.

He moved towards the door beckoning Jade to follow. “There’s a towel and change of clothes in the bathroom, you should probably take a shower. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just lock up before you go, I haven’t moved the spare key.” Without looking back or waiting for a response he left.

You were starting to recognize your growing frustration – you had known him how long? Dated and lived together for a not-insignificant amount of time? Yet here you were, no idea how to interpret this strange morning, much less his last comment. Did he want you to be here when he returned? Were you supposed to leave and act like you had never been there? Could he genuinely be as indifferent as he wanted you to believe? It pissed you that your feelings were probably plain on your face.

You searched for your phone, finding it on what used to be your side of the couch. It felt ridiculous to think you ever had a side of the couch, but you were both creatures of habit and slowly without even thinking you both made your own little sanctuary mere metres away from each other.

You awoke your phone, expecting a flood of texts and phone calls from your friends, only to find nothing. Not a single check in from anyone. You open the group chat and furiously tap out a message.

Your phone vibrates rapidly as you place it down but you’re not in the mood to field their questions.

You’re tempted to leave now, just to get it over with, go home and crawl into bed and forget any of this ever happened. But, you felt gross, it was late enough in the morning that you could run into someone you knew, and you missed the water pressure here.

As you got ready for your shower you surveyed your options. You refused to smell like him, but the only other bottle in the shower was doggy shampoo. Surely dog’s fur and human hair weren’t so different right? Jade did have a beautiful coat, very soft and shiny… You reprimanded yourself for the ridiculous idea, but the point remained, there had to be something else for you to use.

Your brain, far more alert than it was 30 minutes ago, thought of all the things he hadn’t changed, all the fixtures still in place. You had always kept an extra set of all your supplies under the sink. By the grace of all that is good on this cruel cruel earth, they were there, in all their dusty glory, your prized hygiene products sat unmoved under the sink. It would have been sick and twisted to have to leave your ex-boyfriend’s apartment smelling exactly like him, left to spend the rest of the day agonizing over whether you should take another shower.

As you entered the shower you wondered more. He had to have noticed the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore just having an ounce of his attention again, the way ti widened at every caring gesture, and falling with every biting remark.

Yes, it hurt every day missing him. Yes, it would hurt if he hated you. But none of that compared to the feeling of not knowing. What were you supposed to do with all these residual feelings that have yet to go away? Were they worth the suffocation or should you strip them away?

You were proud of yourself, all these reminders of what you once had, in a place you once loved, and you had yet to break down, not even shedding a tear. If you weren’t wrapping yourself in a towel, you would’ve given yourself a pat on the back. This victory was short lived, everyone’s strength has its limits and you had taken yours too far past it already. But then you saw it, something you were completely unprepared for.

Laid neatly on top the closed laundry basket was THE outfit. It was nothing special to anyone else, just a grey sweater and loose joggers, but how many days had you spent alone breathing in his scent for comfort while he was gone? How many hard days at work had you reaching for these exact pieces as if they were the cure to all your problems?

Unable to support your own weight anymore, you fell to the tiled floor, tears spilling out, as your already sore throat grew even more hoarse – you felt like everything was collapsing around you. You weren’t expecting to see him, and you certainly weren’t expecting to need him in so many little ways. It was easy to forget how easily he weaves himself into your life, encroaching on everything you do.

The world disappeared behind each shallow breath, and an endless stream of tears you couldn’t control. Your fingers scratch against your forearms repeatedly, trying to ground yourself in some reality you could no longer grasp. It is so exhausting trying to be over him, going through these cycles of strong emotions, over and over and over again.

Suddenly, for the second time in as few hours, you felt an overwhelming weight encompass your body.

Of course, his stupid fucking perfect dog would still know how to bring you out of a panic attack like he had spent so much time training when you started dating. You clutched to Jade as your breathing slowed, but it did nothing to stop your sobs, if anything it was just another painful reminder of everything you let go.

“Uhhh….” Megumi was frozen at the door, for the first time today he didn’t know what to do. His indifferent façade dropped as he observed the scene on his bathroom floor.

There’s nothing left to lose, not for a moment that he has seen this morning have you possessed more than an ounce of dignity, “So that’s it? You don’t know what to do either? You know it’s been a whole fucking year and I still haven’t figured out how to live without you. A whole year and I’m still a mess. I can’t survive being reminded of us, look at me. And yet every attempt to get over you was a knife twisting because they’ll never be you. Now I’m here and I get to witness the wonderful Megumi Fushiguro, unaffected, and you… you have it all together.” You trail off, giving to him everything left in you.

You weren’t expecting the confused and indignant expression on his face, “You think this is having it together?” His voice lightly raising with each word “This place might as well be a sealed shrine to you and our relationship. I haven’t thrown a single thing out, moved any furniture, bought anything new – the only thing that’s ‘new’ is your stupid tea I keep buying even though I hate it, and for fucks sake y/n I should’ve moved out. Every part of me that looks like I have it together is just my version of a mess.” He brushes a stray strand out of your face, his own face moving far too close for this to be purely platonic anymore “y/n I’m no better off than you are, I’ve just kept everyone from looking”.

“So what are we supposed to do with all this?” Your eyes shining, naïve hope seeping through your defenses at the confirmation that he couldn’t live without you either.

“We could try again” Somehow, it wasn’t quite what you needed to hear. “I, am going to get dressed, and then we’ll talk, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He nodded lightly, pulling himself up and exiting with Jade on his heels.

Dressed in the clothes you thought would burn your skin to even touch let alone wear, you let out a long sigh as you sit on at the breakfast nook. “Look, Megumi, I need to know if you’ve worked through it, any of it? I can’t, I can’t wait another three years for you to tell me you can’t say the words I love you, that you can’t commit to more than a yearly rental, I can’t just have you here I need more security than that”

He pursed his lips, unsure of what he could say to that, how he could make sure you didn’t leave again.

“Megumi, I don’t need you to say it to me today, I don’t need you to commit to anything today, but I have to know you’ve tried that I can’t keep waiting for you”

“I… Just give me a minute, please” his voice weak pleading with you. You waited, knowing better than to rush him, laying a hand on top of his assuring him you weren’t going to run out the door.

“y/n, I’m supposed to be honest and vulnerable, I’m supposed to tell myself that people won’t abandon me just because I give them access to who I really am. I want to tell you I love you, because there’s no other explanation for feeling this way. For feeling like your eyes outshine the stars, that your mind is more brilliant than the sun. I’ve tortured myself for a year with the idea of you meeting someone who could give you everything I couldn’t, and selfishly I prayed they were awful, I wished you were miserable so I pretend the truth wasn’t real that I was not enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I’ve never seen a loving relationship, certainly not for long enough to form memories, but I look at you and I can’t imagine anything else”

Your thumb reaches to brush away the stray tear sliding down his face as he spoke to you. Manoeuvring yourself around to be on the same side of the nook as him, you pull him into you, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck. You placed a gentle kiss into his hair before whispered into his ear “You were always enough, I just needed you to know it too.”

not not a tag list: @satosuguslut @sandyscastle

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi fushiguro angst #megumi fushiguro fic #jujutsu kaisen fics #im so bad at tagging yall i never know what works or what people use sos #megumi fushiguro x y/n #i give up ok bye

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thecitythatdoesntsleep · 3 years

Note

I’m the same anon who requested that collar whump and 🙌 it was so good!!!! if you want to go more whumpy I encourage it!!! The only limit I have is please no explicit smut. I’m fine with implied/referenced just not explicit. Otherwise you can go wild!!! I’d totally love to see it!!! thank you so much!! 💞💞💞

Awwh! I'm so super happy that you liked it, that pleases me greatly to know that it was enjoyable! I insist, for your kind words let me treat you to something extra whumpy!

Limits understood! Let's crank up the whump button and keep that 'too familiar' with Whumpee going. Mind if I add a pinch of obsession into that intimate whumper? You know, as a treat because you deserve it anon! Rewinding time a bit, this is before the first post.

(Tags/TW: Collar whump, Intimate Male Whumper, Female Whumpee, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsession whump, Choking, Hanging, Swinging by neck, Neck whump, Broken bones, Noncon touching, referenced/implied noncon, Hot/Cold Whumper, Hair pulling, Drugging, Cursing/strong language, Vampire whump. )

"You were too naive, you know that?" Whumper stated, hand gripping a flawless face and watching pretty, gemstone eyes roll in their sockets. "You never saw me, all this time, watching you from afar."

"I hoped you'd notice, I really did. I was so messy a couple of times, I ran right into you and somehow you never even saw me." It almost sounded pained, the way Whumper said it. Thick with emotion as his grip on her jaw became more violent and drew her out of the haze.

"I don't know if I should be insulted... Or happy you're so oblivious to the world around you."

As soon as Whumpee made it through the fog, her features pinched in a grimace and the sight before her wasn't one she'd expected. She recognized him but couldn't place him anywhere, her mind telling her she'd definitely seen him before.

"But you're here now... and you're going to be my pet now. No one will ever know I didn't buy you, I made sure of it." The more he rambled, the more infatuated he became with touching her. First her shoulder, now he was holding her hand, bringing it to his lips for a clammy, tacky kiss.

"Y-You're all mine," He was frantic, panicked as if he was both excited and terrified for what he was actually doing. Having kidnapped and tranquilized her thus far.

"Like.. hell I am.." She rasped, watching him fight off a chuckle and lose almost instantly.

"Hah- You're not going to have a choice. I'm your Master and pets obey their masters." Whumper insisted, reaching for a collar that had been already chained up to a pipe in the basement ceiling. "I'm going to teach you how to behave down here first, then w-wh-when you're broken in, yeah? Then.. Then I'll let you upstairs like a real pet."

He grabbed her up by the hair and she flew into fight or flight as soon as she was lifted off the ground. He was big, she'd give him that. Tall, probably 6'4 and he definitely worked out and enjoyed his carbs at the same time.

She was on the shorter side, but she knew how to use her weight and no matter the tension on her hair; she wormed her whole body to wrench away from him. The force was messy, her system still getting used to the hazy, limpness in her limbs.

"Bad!" He growled in resonating anger, using the grip on her scalp to slam her head into the wall. The first obviously dazed her and the second left her stilling. "You're gonna wear your fucking collar! L-Like a good pet!"

She looked at him with stars in her vision and pain seeping from the back of her head, features cracking with lines of hatred. She could smell it, her skin had split open on the poorly constructed brick wall and it stung when it started fusing back together from her healing speed.

She couldn't let him know just how her body worked or she feared the worst of his wrath. He really seemed like a horror movie villain at this point, the way he stuttered and looked at her with such blatant, scrutinizing attention.

"T-Thats too high, take it down and I'll wear it." She tried to reason, feeling one of his hands grab around the front of her neck while the other repositioned in her hair.

"It's not training if it's not painful.. what would you learn from just wearing a collar?" He questioned, tone acidic like she was a moron for even thinking of suggesting such a thing.

Those damned drugs did her in, if only she'd been at full strength when he tried again to wrestle her over and up to the collar he had waiting on her. She could have thrown him across the room, easily, if he hadn't somehow managed to subdue her. Now it was a struggle to keep herself on the ground as the muscular human kept taking her footing away from her.

She kicked and kicked and even when she landed contact with his legs, she knew it wasn't strong enough to even pull a reaction from him. He eventually won, hoisting her up and latching the thick, chain collar around her neck to entrap her with her own weight. It was just in distance to let the tips of her outstretched toes barely brush the ground.

"There, now you can squirm all you want, you'll just go swinging." He mused, giving her a push by her hips and watching her uselessly grip above her in the swing.

She felt like at any moment, her neck would snap, a grinding sound in her bones giving a warning creak when she reached the highest point. Her vocal chords were ruthlessly crushed against the curvature of the chain and she couldn't stop the faux spasms she felt in long-deadened lungs. It felt like she was a human again, drowning or being smothered, only she hadn't needed real air in decades.

Choking gurgles of begging barely registered past how hard he'd started laughing. She was like a chandelier in a living room that a mischievous housemate knocked into. Swinging in whatever pattern or direction gravity took her until she learned that she'd only stop if she went still.

Finally whumper stopped her and grabbed her backside to lift her up against him, holding her face to face with a devious smile across his face. "You're l-like a piñata. It's kind of cute."

Her hands flew up and in a sound clap, cupped his ears in a deafening impact. Immediately his head started to ring and he dropped her with such force she nearly slammed into him again on the downswing.

Whumper covered his ears and shoved fingers in them, anxiously feeling for blood and unable to hear anything but an ambient whine. He was furious and the stunning pain left him staggering back a few paces to let her endure the remaining momentum. The faintest of garbled blubbering could be heard and it was his only hope that he hadn't been completely deafened.

"You stupid bitch.." He roared, louder than he'd realized in his current state. "Y-You just lost your fucking hands!"

A vicious latch onto one of her arms and his opposite hand grabbed her wrist, twisting and wrenching it beyond it's natural pivot. She grabbed onto his wrists, nails dug in but couldn't stop the force he'd held her with.

The crack was agonizing, it popped so many times and she would have vomited if not for the noose around her neck. The limb instantly radiated pain and fell limp, unable to hold upright on the destroyed joint. Muffled cries were distant to him and even though he was looking her in the face, she sounded soft.

She'd stopped swinging when he grabbed her second arm and gave the faintest of tugs back from his menacing grip. Begging, pleading without shaking her head or making a single noise.

He ignored it. Snapping the second joint in a long twist and the satisfaction that he had with the feeling of breaking a bone was maddening. He savored it, giving an extra roll this time and really feeling the damage he'd done inside her skin.

"I bet you'll behave for me now, wont you?" He picked her up once more, this time leaving space between their upper halves in hesitation. When she left her hands at her sides, he was pleased with the progress they'd already made.

"God, even when you're in pain and have spit all down your face, you're still pretty." Whumper praised, taking his hold on her a bit easier now, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs and encouraging them to wrap around his waist for reprieve.

They did, as disgusting as it felt it relieved the tension on her neck and she was almost grateful in just that short time alone.

He pet her head fondly now, pushing down the strands he'd frizzed and upset and he pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe her mouth. Her lips hung open like she was panting but no breath escaped her, throat desperately trying to clear with small growls and hacks.

"I've never seen you blush until now, I feel special." Whumper pushed her bangs back and returned down her face with a loving sweep while holding her; thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I can't believe you're finally all mine. I get to keep you forever and ever and... You can't escape me anymore." As if his mind was looping through all the times he'd thought about her or thought about kidnapping her, he stared into her eyes blankly.

Even if she didn't remember, he certainly did. Every encounter, every time he'd sent her a drink at the bar and been to shy to say something. When she flat out rejected him for a dance. The time she'd gotten in a taxi with him and he didn't say anything to her. The week he'd paid for her coffee in the drive thru, strategically, every day getting ahead of her in line.

It had all been worth it.

"You can't reject me anymore. You can't hide.. or brush me off or ignore the gifts I get you." The more he rambled, he less he was looking at her and the more he was looking through her. He framed her body, wrapped along her curves with a curious hand. He abandoned the hold and let her support herself when he couldn't handle not touching her with both of them.

"Now.. I can finally love you how you deserve.."

Sorry it took me so long to get to this anon! I hope this is respectful of your wishes and not too much towards the descriptive side. I also tried to go with the same tropes you'd requested but just make it more miserable. ; ^ ;

I know there is a very thin border to intimate whump and it can transition beyond the boundaries very easily. So if you have any critiquing or things to avoid that could help in the future, I'd love to know so I can gain some more versatility. I would (ideally) love to be able to cater to all requests in all forms and insight will only help me with that goal.

Another apology for the wait. Had some personal life stuff come up and wasn't in the feelings to write much. But I'm back on the rise and I'm hoping to get to everyone's messages and requests within the next few days.

I will not be doing first come first serve, I'm just doing whatever inspires me with this batch. Sorry if anyone thinks that's unfair, it's just how it is for me as a writer. This is 1 out of 7 asks and I don't even remember which ones came first because I immediately convert them into drafts. : ( But thank you so much for the req! Hope you enjoyed. <3

#whump #whump prompts #lady whump #female whumpee #pet whump #pet whump prompts #collar whump #intimate whumper #tw whump #tw broken bones #tw hanging #tw choking #tw abuse #tw implied noncon #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #tw noncon touching #tw obsession #long post

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 4 || Modern!Thomas

HEAVY trigger warnings for gore in this one. Don't read if you're really not into the cannibalistic portion. Butchering and shit. And eye stuff and yeah. It's somewhat heavy on the gore.

“Tommyyyyy… I’m bored.”, he shoves you off, probably for the fourth time in just ten minutes. You’ve been leaning over his bulky back for the good part of those ten minutes, getting on his nerves.

It’s been around four weeks since you’d gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere in Texas, ending up in the Hewitt’s household. Slowly, slowly, you’d gotten more comfortable with them, and them with you. You’d contacted your work, telling them you wouldn’t show up for a while due to an accident, explaining everything, except where you were currently staying. You’d gotten chores that could be done sitting down, and best of all; you’d grown closer to Thomas.

You’d had a lot of trouble adjusting to their way of living, however. Many dinners you resorted to not eating, or only eating pieces you saw weren’t meat. But after about a week of doing this, you couldn’t stand the pain in your empty stomach anymore, and you caved. You had to eat, the small amounts of potato and the occasional vegetable not enough to fill you. But you did stay away from Thomas when guests or trespassers came to the house. You knew what it meant, and even if you knew what kind of meat you were eating. You never wanted to see how it was made.

Right now, however, you were bored. And since Thomas was the one who was pretty much around you, or closed by every waking moment of your day, he was also the poor person who had to deal with your boredom. During these weeks, he’d taught you a few words and phrases in sign language. Mostly ones he felt were the most necessary, together with the alphabet. Today, he had transported you up to his upstairs bedroom because he was going to work on touching up one of his masks that had gotten ripped at a recent scuffle with a particularly feisty dinner guest. Apparently, he didn’t trust you to be alone for more than five minutes. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, with you laying next to him, supporting yourself on your elbows.

Pushing you off did nothing to keep you from poking him at his side with your good foot. “Tommyyy…”, he slowly turned his head to glare at you, and you gave him an innocent smile, trying your best to look like an angel who would definitely not do everything in her power to get on his nerves.

‘What’

His hand was slow as he spelled the word out. He was getting annoyed.

“I’m bored.”, you whine.

All he does is shrug and give you a sarcastic thumbs up. You groan and proceed to just lay flat on your back.

The only ones at home today were you, Thomas, and uncle Monty who were probably snoring on the porch. Charlie was out doing god knows what and Luda Mae was tending to the gas station she worked in. So, here you were, harassing Thomas. You pout behind him, fingers tapping on your stomach as you try to figure out what to do. Then an idea strikes.

You shoot up, thankful for the fact that your leg isn't as painful anymore, making it way easier to move around, even if you couldn’t fully support your weight on it yet.

Another attack on Thomas had you grabbing the mask out of his hands and carefully throwing it on the floor. You giggle as you see him just staring at his empty hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. The action was fast enough to shock him before he lifts his head to look at you. You grin like the devil at him and bursts out in laughter when he glares at you, eyes filled with annoyance, but one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. Again signing slow letters towards you. One at a time.

'W' 'H' 'A' 'T'

With his attention, your plan is set into motion . You knew he was really careful with you, meaning he would never hurt you or barely even use any strength towards you. You clumsily climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, making him tense like a statue, hands hovering and fingers twitching nervously making you laugh before attacking his sides with your own. His reaction is immediate and he bursts out in a barking and deep laugh, a wheezing sound sometimes escaping his lungs and he falls down to lay on his back.

Bingo. You thought.

As quickly as you can, you grab hold of his wrists and pin them down under your thighs, making sure they’re trapped between you and his abdomen. Previous knowledge dancing in your mind that despite his strength, he’s a gentleman, and never has he shown any violence towards you, especially not in your current condition. So pinning him in a way that at first glance looks sexual, would make him lose any and all strength.

And you’re correct. You watch him as his eyes shoot open, lips pressed into a thin line, at the realization where his hands are and he squirms. Another devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in close, making eye contact with him before you utter one simple word.

“Talk.”

His eyebrow furrow and his lips turn down and you feel him tug on his arms, trying to get them free to well… talk to you before he shrugs. “No, nonono, big man.”. You sit back up and clench your thighs hard around his hands.

You want to hear his voice. The idea being that if you pinned him hard enough or long enough that he would cave and actually speak to you. You’d heard him laugh just now, so you knew his vocal cords worked. Besides, he’d told you that himself. He can talk, he just chose one day to never do it anymore. So why not take advantage of your boredom and torture him into speaking. It wasn’t like you had any place to be.

“I want you to hear your voice.”, he raises one eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. “I want to talk to you.”, again, he tugs at his arms. And again, you clench your thighs hard. Thanking whatever power there was that you had good thigh muscles, his response to this action, however, is a firmer tug and you see his biceps flex. But still, he refused to use his full strength, and you knew he was having fun halfway roughhousing with you.

“Can you stop? You’re not getting your hands for this!”, you laughed at him as he pouted up at you. Leaning forward, you poked his lips the pad of your index finger. “All you have to do is speak to me, nothing more.”, he playfully snapped his teeth at you and you nearly didn’t have time to pull back before your finger got caught and he laughed heartily at your reaction, looking really proud of himself at nearly biting your finger off. “THOMAS!”, you slapped his upper arm but laughed with him before you felt a pain in your cast up leg making you slump down next to him to relax it. “You’re no fun.”, you mumble up at him as he just turns his head to look at your own pouting form next to him.

A yawn escaped you, boredom had transformed into sleepiness.

“Hey, dummy.”, you say jokingly and pokes his masked cheek. He makes a face at you that screams “really?” and you giggle. “Nap with me?”, you continue. He shakes his head and spells out “mask” with his left hand, pointing out that it still needed those repairs. “Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Tommy.”, he still shakes his and you relent. “Fine! Don’t then,” closing your eyes, you only feel the bed shift as he carefully climbs over you before falling into slumber.

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Thomas lands rather wobbly on the floor after climbing over you. He pulls the thin duvet cover over you before he - as discreetly as he can - clears his throat and leans in close to your ear. His voice is just above a whisper. Deep, like distant thunder, as he says two words.

“Sleep tight.”

He picks the mask up that you had thrown down to the floor next to the bed and trudges over to his desk, slumping down into the chair to fiddle with it. Occasionally he glances over to your sleeping form with your back turned to him. He shakes his head at your persistence to make him speak to you. He didn’t understand your sudden fascination with his voice, but he shrugged, and honestly? It was kind of endearing that you wanted to hear him speak so badly. It was also a plus to have someone to roughhouse with, so he would keep this charade up and keep his mouth shut for a little while longer.

Checking that you had truly fallen asleep, curled up on his bed, he sneaks down to the basement. He had the rest of a body to cut up together with some cleaning to do. Plus sort a few stray pieces into a scrap pile of usable meat. Tying his apron around his waist, he docked his phone into a small shoddy speaker system he was lucky enough to snag from some travelers a while back. Not long after, music streamed through the basement.

He unhooks the most recent victim and grunts as the man is laid down on the table. Thomas looks over the parts he had yet to cut up to inspect for damages, finding none, he hums in delight, this meant there would be more meat for food. He starts the process by cleaning the body, scrubbing away dirt, and caked blood.

It’s a fast process, and it was a joy for Thomas to cut this man up, he had a good ratio of fat, and it had marbled really well. He nods as he inspects the meat, and makes sure to put this man in the “ special occasions ”-pile. He knew mama would love to have this man for special dinners. He did get disappointed though, as this poor victim didn’t have much around his ribs. Sadly, there wasn't much of a grillable rib on this man, he did save them of course, but they would most likely join the pieces for ground beef in the end.

He wrapped the pieces he got off of the body in packaging paper and wrote the day's date on them, and what parts they were from, and put the packages in the freezer box. Even if the poor man’s face was too beat up to make a mask off, Thomas did find joy in the fact that he could get some, nice and long pieces from the legs. Finishing his work, he picked up a slightly sharpened spoon. Despite his big fingers he gingerly stuck the edge of it under the man’s eyelids. Careful, as not to pop the eyes, he scooped them out, letting them both hang by their respective optical nerves. After snipping both optic nerves off with a pair of sharp scissors, he carefully rinsed them under some cold water and put them in an airtight container. His mother had perfected pickled eyes over the years and he loved them, that, and her beef jerky.

He cleaned up and tossed the leftovers of the body into a crawlspace he’d constructed that led out into the forest, knowing scavengers came to clean the remains he put there so he thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. Returning to the table he tossed a bowl of water onto the bloodied table and wiped it off.

When he finally felt he could end today’s work, he climbed the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen, fingers moving in the air, deep in thought, stomach rumbling. The munchies always hit him hard when working, and he always tries to push them aside. On the rare occasions where he was mostly home alone, he broke the “ no snacking ”-rule his mama had made for him.

Hence, Thomas goes on a hunt through the kitchen. Opening the biggest pantry, he grabs the first box of crackers he can find and basically inhales the entire box. Unsatisfied, he attacks the fridge and finds something he’s been craving for a long time; the beef jerky. Something he also devours like a ravenous animal, he took a few with him into the living room, munching as he went to slump down on the couch.

He loved being alone like this. It was quiet. No Charlie to pick on him, mama wasn’t constantly on his ass for something he had yet to do. Even with uncle Monty home, he didn’t make a sound, probably dead on the porch but most likely not. Knowing no one is there to scream at him for it, he props his feet up on the coffee table and basically lays down across the table and half of the couch, and lets out a deep sigh, almost deflating like a tire. Leaning his head back to rest at the back of the couch, he looks up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his left fingers tapping slightly at his phone in thought, thoughts that seem to slowly topple over to the forbidden kind.

Fuck it. He thought to himself. And pulled his phone out of his pocket only to head straight for his gallery, he did feel gross for saving that one specific video you'd sent him though, he never asked if he was allowed to or not. He just did it. Looking over his shoulder out to the rest of the house he made sure he was really alone, listening for any movement from you upstairs, or any sign of Monty coming back in.

He quickly swipes for the video, his other hand coming to just rest over his crotch at first. Finally finding the video he was searching for, he presses play and sinks down a bit lower in his seat. It doesn't take long for him to grow and harden under his palm and jeans. His eyes raked over your form in the video. He hasn't watched it since you came here, nor has he touched himself since you sent it. His pants quickly became uncomfortable and let out a sigh of relief as he unzipped and let his erection spring free. Your voice sent chills down his spine, as it rings out from the phone’s speaker, he'd forgotten just how nice you sounded, and he wrapped his free hand around his swollen dick.

A shaky breath escapes him as he slowly drags his hand down himself.

Watching when you pump the toy in and out of you in a steady rhythm made a tinge of jealousy spike through him, his fist gripping harder, a finger dragging over the swollen, angry tip to gather a stray drop of precum. A choked groan escaped him as he nudged his barbell. His eyes went out of focus from his phone screen as he looked up in the general direction of his room. Where you were. Thoughts wandering to how your pussy would feel around him, moving his hand as far up as he could without letting go, he squeezed it as he slowly dragged the hand down. A desperate attempt at imitating how tight you must feel around him. His eyes fluttered shut as a particularly lewd moan from you echoed from his phone.

Thomas was desperate. It was so warm. He'd put his phone down as he let his fantasy take hold. Bucking into one hand, the other massaging his balls.

Glancing down at his lewd activity, he imagined your lips around his cock. Your eyes locking on to him as you let his dick spring free with a 'pop' and how your tongue would dance over his head. It was all so sudden. He tensed up, hand slowing down slightly when he came hard as he heard your climax echo from where his phone lay on the couch with a low moan that transferred to a whine, a slight wheeze escaping his lungs. His cum coated his thighs and hand. He just sat there. Hand still around his cock, hectic pumping exchanged for a slow, lazy stroking motion as he caught his breath.

Eyes half-lidded, the post-orgasm grin on his lips slowly fading into a frown as the realization that he now has laundry to do came to the front of his mind.

God damn it.

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

You slowly turned over to your back and stretched, a tired sound escaping your lips, sitting up, you noticed you’re alone in the room. Looking around you search for the old, shabby clock on the wall across from the bed.

Whoops… two-hour nap, you grimaced as your nap had become longer than you planned.

“Tommy?”, you called out. No reply. You groaned as you knew that meant he wasn’t in earshot and not having your phone with you upstairs, preventing you from texting him or calling him, meant you had to either support yourself against the walls and closest furniture to get down to the main floor, or to scoot on your ass. “Stupid… fucking… dumdum…”, you muttered as you scooted on your ass out to the hallway. Finally reaching the stairs landing you clung to the railing and hauled yourself halfway up it. “TOMMY!”, you screamed and pouted at him when you saw him poking his head out from the kitchen, you just hung over the railing and glared at the big figure who started to emerge around the corner and stalk towards the stairs, his whole demeanor screaming sarcasm and smart-ass, as he sauntered closer. Your pout growing more and more as you saw his shoulders bouncing in what you could only assume was laughter. “Can you just help me?”, you raised your voice and started flailing with your hands that were hanging over the railing, your eyes went wide as he shook his head before that familiar male voice rang out through his phone.

Get your own ass down

That’s the point where you burst out in laughter.

“Fine!”, you burst out between laughs and proceed to sit down flat on your butt again, preparing to just scoot your way down the stairs. You shot Thomas a look that clearly said “watch this”, as you started thumping down the stairs. One at a time, while Thomas just proceeded to stand in the same spot, now leaning on the door frame just shaking his head at your antics.

Thump Thump Thumpthumpthump Thump

And there you were, now laying on your side on the floor at his feet, rubbing your now sore behind with your hand, crocodile tears clear as you look for sympathy he clearly wasn’t giving you as he just took a step over you. Seeing your opportunity, you grabbed one of his legs the second it landed on the floor, your whole body jolting towards him as he stopped suddenly. You laughed hard as you hugged his leg. He turned halfway and looked down at you, a sigh heavy enough you almost felt your hair moving, you looked up at the giant and just grinned at him.

‘Let go’ he signed, but you could see his own grin even if it was hidden behind his mask and you shook your head.

“Let yourself go”, you joked. A yelp escaped you as you felt him lift his leg just like you weighed absolutely nothing and started shaking it to get you off his leg. Your laugh echoed in the house. An action that just caused you to clamp on to his leg even harder. It wasn’t until the main door opened and you both heard Charlie’s angry voice ring out that you finally did let go. The atmosphere changed straight away. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” You didn’t meet his eyes.

During these weeks, Luda Mae had warmed up to you. Her view of you had changed during the period, and by now, you were one of them. At least to her. Charlie still viewed you as a literal piece of meat. Cattle. The next one up on the dinner table. “I was sitting on the stairs to rest.”, you mumbled as you took a hand Thomas had reached out to you to help you stand and you leaned upon him as he helped you walk over to sit down on a chair in the kitchen.

Charlie just grumbled and waved Thomas over to him, saying something low you couldn’t hear. However, you usually knew what that meant; unwelcomed company. Something that was confirmed by Thomas as he visibly tensed up. Hands clenched into fists.

He was getting himself ready. Your Tommy was gone. Replaced by a guard dog ready to attack, he turned to you and you couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze. His whole appearance had changed in your eyes. You knew it was time to go up to his room and lock the door, and you nodded to him. As you stood he swiped you up in a bridal carry and headed towards the stairs. You gulped. You hated when this happened. No matter how well you knew they ate people, or… how you ate people, you never wanted to see nor hear it. It was easier to eat and continue surviving if you just pretended. Pushing that part away and hiding it behind the good times with Tommy.

But every time, you worried. You worried for Thomas, worried something might go wrong, worried that these people might be the ones who take him away from you. You’d had nightmares about that a few times. How you wake up alone in the house one morning, the entire family gone, taken by the police, or just plain dead. Those nights were always horrible. Those nights, you always called Thomas asking him to come down to the basement bedroom. Because those nights, you just needed to feel him close to you. Those were nights you curled up and cuddled around his arm.

Since you’d seen who Thomas really was, since you’d seen the ugly truth about him, you’d deny your feelings. Strictly holding it on a platonic level. But you couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to admit, not only to yourself but also to him.

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

Thomas stopped suddenly as he felt your hands tug at the neckline of his t-shirt as he went to set you down on his bed. He grunted slightly and took a soft hold of your wrists to try and pull your hands off. You didn’t move. He pulled his body again, no reaction. At least not more than his body going further downward. His brows furrowed as he started to get annoyed. He didn’t have time for this, not now. There were people coming, which meant he had to go to work. Not play your stupid games.

His grip got harder, but when he heard his name being uttered every so slightly by your small voice, he relaxed.

“Tommy…”, your voice was so low. You sounded so small, so… different. A tinge of worry tugged in his heart and he knelt down in front of you, he reached out a shaky hand to cup your cheek and lifted your head up so he could look you in the face. What meets him has his heart do a double-take. You're glossy-eyed, tears too close to be welling over for comfort. A stray strand of hair that had fallen forward is tucked behind your ear, and he looks at you with questioning eyes.

He slowly raises and spells out "yes", wanting you to continue, knowing he doesn't have much time to stay.

Your breathing sounds as shaky as he feels. "I…", he follows your eyes with his own, desperate for you to look him in his eyes. After avoiding his gaze, he relaxes slightly as you finally relent and meet him. But the next two words make him tense up, in a different way. Just as low as before, you whisper them out. "Kiss me." His breathing becomes ragged, still, as a statue, he looks at you as you lean towards him, but stop just inches from the hole in his mask. Breathing hot against his lips. He's nervous, scared, anxious… in love, but his body won’t move. It’s not listening to him. "Please…", the word a mere breath on him. He gulps, and just as he feels the feathery touch of your lips only brushing against his; he's up on his feet.

Footsteps are heavy and hurried. He closes the door to his room and locks it from the outside, something he only does when there are guests coming to the house. Afraid they’ll find you.

His heart is beating so fast, he’s shaky and sweaty. Suddenly his t-shirt feels even more clingy and cramped. He knows he can’t stay like this any longer. He got work to do. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he steps out of his body to let it do what needs to be done. Gone is Tommy, and all that’s left is the shell of a deranged butcherer. A maniac with a chainsaw.

He still has time to change. When he still had his job at the slaughterhouse, he had a green and red striped shirt. A shirt he still chose when they had guests over. With heavy footsteps, he heads down into the basement. After buttoning the shirt up he looked into the mirror, eyes dark and brows furrowed. When things were bad, he never even recognized himself when he looked it, during these bad days his arm guards were the heaviest things he had to wear. His apron was slung over his neck and tied neatly behind his back and the mask he mostly used during these events snugly pulled over his head. The killing mask, as he liked to call it. The one he had to use to distance himself from this.

While waiting for his signal from the main floor, he sat down at his desk. Making sure everything is secured, making sure nothing will get in the way. And most importantly; making sure his chainsaw is in working condition. Which, of course, it is. He took great pride in how he managed it. Always giving it a good clean after every dinner party. He’d memorized every video he’d found on the internet on chainsaw maintenance, since he knew they couldn’t afford a new one if this one happened to be damaged, one time coming close to it. But that was no concern of him at this moment of time.

Suddenly, he heard voices from the floor above him, voices and footsteps. And he figured; it’s almost time. His grip on the chainsaw hardened as he rose to slowly and carefully ascend the stairs, sneaking and making a conscious choice to skip the parts that he knew made creaking noises. Stopping at the top, he peered into the eye hole, installed at one point, to check how many he could see.

Two… two here. Charlie said at least three.

These ones look scrawny, not much to make use of. Shame, he really did want some nice ribs one evening, making him hope the third one had more. But maybe these had enough to make ground beef for burgers… He snapped out of his food-driven daydream as he heard his uncle Monty screaming for him from outside the sliding door. Three hard knocks on the floor were his call sign. And only seconds after the third one had echoed, he burst out. Chainsaw roaring, drowning out any other sound in the house.

At that, the chase began.

He managed to get one of them in the leg at one point, and she went down like a tree. Screeching high enough to pierce the mechanical roar, making his ears hurt enough for him to land a fist on her face to make her shut up.

One down, two to go.

Hauling her inside, he just threw her down the stairs to the basement, where she would have an abrupt awakening at some point, he’d learn that it was best to take care of them as fast as possible. It did taste better in his opinion. And so, he went off to get the other two.

Adrenaline is shooting through him. He’s hungry and wants dinner. And if a man wants to feed, a man has to hunt.

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

You heard screaming and clamped your hands over your ears. Your own screaming desperate to shut it out. It didn’t help. Putting your head under the pillow and squeezing it around your head didn’t help either. Nothing helps. They were still there. That screaming… That roaring. And the running.

You jumped when, suddenly, someone collided with the door. Desperately tugging the handle, making the door rattle. You had you press your hands over your mouth to keep quiet, to not scream, to not alert them you were in here. Some sick part of you never wanted to leave Thomas. You couldn’t leave. And especially not this way. When you heard his heavy footsteps stomping towards the poor person trying to get away, you started crying. When you heard a squelching, mushy sound, you wanted to puke. And you actually viciously gagged when you saw a crimson stream under the door into the room.

You didn’t want to think about what he had done to the person outside. You didn’t. You closed your eyes hard enough to see white spots dance across blackness and scooted further up onto the bed, hiding behind the pillow, in pure hope that you would disappear from this madness.

It really did feel like days… months, even before you heard the door make a sound. It sounded like a key was pushed into place, and then it clicked open. Lifting your head towards it, you saw him. Thomas. At least it had his body and his eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not Tommy. You started breathing harder, heavier.

Was he really going to see you? Or was he going to see… cattle?

He was drenched in blood, pieces of skin and flesh hanging off belts and buckles around his arms. His face… Not his own. This was not Tommy. This was the monster you’d imagined when you first woke up in the basement. The murderer. The butcher of Texas. And for the first time since you’d woken up bolted down on a table, you were scared. You didn’t want to look at him like this, didn’t want to see this.

“Please…”, you started and followed his eyes as they flicked all over the room, he was looking around. At nothing, and everything at once. Breathing heavy. Hands twitching at his sides before they clenched and unclenched. You tried again, tried connecting to him. “Tommy, please.”, his nickname seemed to make the eyes of someone else snap towards you. “Come back to me.”, even if you were shaking like a leaf, you needed Tommy right now. He looked directly at you before shaking his head, and a dark rumble erupted from him. “No.”, and with that. He left again. Bloody boot prints trailing after him. “Tommy, wait!”, you yelled after him, hoping to once again connect to him, to get him to come back to you.

But to no avail.

-------------------------------------------- It had been an easy fight for him, barely even any fighting back. They seemingly had just given up as they realized what was going to happen. Something Thomas was grateful for. He wasn’t in the mood for fist fighting or getting stabbed again.

His movements were slow and methodical as he cut them up. Loud music echoed through the basement. He was alone, and the cattle dead. So he seized the opportunity to work without his mask. He wanted to breathe free air. It was really rare of him to actually do anything except shower without his mask, even with the one that only covered half his face, but sometimes. Just sometimes, he wanted to.

His prayers were answered though, as the third one did have more to work with. Meaning; he would get those ribs he wanted one night. By the time he started to feel done for the evening, he’d managed to get a whole heap of good meat from the third victim. He wrapped them neatly in package paper, wrote today’s date on them, and put them at the bottom of the freezer box.

After working for the most part of the night, having three dinner guests to take care of, meant it was late. Really late. His mama had come down a few times, reminding him he had to eat, telling him she had checked on you. At one point, she had come down and told him you’d fallen asleep. But you hadn’t touched your food, and she told him she was worried. All Thomas did was tell her not to worry. Hours later, he was done. And finally, he could relax. Finally, he could let go of this persona. He could return to himself again. Very few things made him feel this happy. Every piece of his working attire that came off him felt like a stone leaving his shoulders. He was the only one who could keep the entire family floating, and he knew that.

After hanging the apron upon its hook, after he’d put the armguards down on their table, and after putting his mask back on, he ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He was tired.

And he missed you.

His mama had been a true angel and cleaned the puddle of blood up from under his bedroom door and the whole upper floor smelled of lemon. Just as he reached his door, his brain wandered back to what you had told him earlier. What you had done. What you wanted from him.

And when that thought came back, Tommy was thrown back into his body again, and he opened the bedroom door. His mama was right, you were sleeping, curled up with your broken leg sticking out from under the blanket . You, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Usually, when there's been a dinner party, you would sleep in his upstairs bedroom and he in the basement.

But now, things felt different for him.

He checked the time, you'd slept through supper, he just didn’t eat more than a few snacks while working, so he decided it was time for bed. Maybe he could gather enough courage to do what you wanted him to do earlier. Closing the door silently, the lock clicked. Boots were kicked off, jeans were left to fall as they were unbuttoned. The heavy clinking seemed to make you stir, and he saw you slightly opening your eyes. "Come here…", your voice was low, and it held something he'd never heard from you before, causing a small shiver to run through him, but he obliged and shuffled forward.

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

Here he was, Tommy. Your sweet, sweet giant. His body loomed over yours, his hair tickled your face as it fell forward making you giggle, something that was met by a dark chuckle as he wiggled more hair on your face. “Tommy, stoop!”, you laughed out quietly, but he shook his head in a mocking “no” and just continued swiping his dark locks over you if only for a few seconds more. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky behavior. All traces of the terrifying man you saw earlier, blown out to sea. When he finally did stop, your left hand reached out and cupped his right cheek as you tucked some hairs behind his ear. When you saw how he leaned into your hand and let his eyes flutter close, your heart did a double-take.

He stayed like that, seemingly relishing the feeling of your hand on his masked cheek and the way your finger brushed behind his ear, before he finally opened his blue eyes again, meeting yours. You saw how his eyes quickly flickered down to your lips. Where a small smile tugged, and you repeated the same words you had done earlier when he had left you. Voice low, whispering, words only meant for him to hear;

“Kiss me.”, this time, however, he didn’t run away. Your heart picked up in rhythm as you saw him lean in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes intense, yet soft. He acted like he was scared, you could feel how his breathing was slightly ragged, you guessed he was nervous. Craning your neck towards him, to reach, he leaned back slightly. Yeah, he was definitely nervous all of a sudden, the thought of this big giant man, who the same day had killed people being nervous about a kiss, was nothing short of adorable. Again, you stopped just short of your lips meeting his, and breathed out that same word; “Please…”

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, how his own slowly closed, and then you felt his lips land on yours through the mask. It was soft, not rushed nor forced. You ignored the chappy parts of his lips and relished in just feeling them on yours. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pulled him down with you so you could both be more comfortable as the kiss deepened. You could easily tell that he was inexperienced, but he did seem eager to learn more, to feel more, and to taste more.

You caressed his neck and back of the head with one hand, the other carded through his hair.

Suddenly, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to take risks, and you felt the tip of his tongue graze your lips, kindly asking for an invitation. An invitation you gladly accepted, a moan escaping you as you finally felt his tongue meet yours. You couldn’t focus on how he tasted, he just tasted like Tommy. He was masculine, and dominant in nature when he wanted to be, and right now? It seemed like he wanted to be, his tongue strong and demanding against yours as he mimicked your movements.

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

Tommy happily drank in every moan that came down his throat as he danced his tongue over you. He loved this, he loved this so much. The way you reacted to only feeling his tongue against yours, made him braver. His right hand moved from its place by your head and started traveling over your left arm with featherlight touches. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it up and over your head, opening up for easier access to your side, from where he slowly moved it upwards, he knew where to go, but then his body stopped listening to him. You whined slightly as his hand stopped just right under your breast, hand pulling back again as his thumb grazed the soft plump underside.

His brain caught up to him and he pulled away from your lips and sat up. Face warm and blushed, and he knew you could see it over the edge of his mask and down his neck because you giggled.

“Tommy, c’mere.”, you whispered to him and he saw how you reached out for his hands, he let you take them, but when he saw that you pulled them towards your breasts again he tugged them out of your grip and shook his head. He wanted to, dear god how he wanted to touch you. He wanted to hear your voice sing for him.

But he was scared. Nervous. The only sexual experience being a halfhearted blowjob from one of Charlie’s ugly hookers out of pity, something he figured she’d done because Charlie had talked about him in his drunken state.

But here you were. He just looked at you shyly. His breath hitched, however, when you suddenly rose up and pulled your shirt off. Bed bouncing lightly as you let your body fall down back on to the bed. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he saw your breasts jiggle softly as you lay back down. You were so beautiful, and he was just a big giant blushy mess who didn’t know what or how or why, if he spoke, he would probably just be a blubbering mess as well.

Again, he saw you reach for his hands, but this time, he shakily let you take them to their rightful place. He gulps as his hands are planted right under your breasts, your own hands helping him cup them gently, yet firmly. His eyes shot up to your face as he heard you sigh deeply at his touch. Your head lolled back, exposing your neck, the sight making him wet his lips with his tongue, an urge to hear more from you hit him.

Leaning down to where your neck met your shoulder he tested his waters and slowly dragged his tongue over your skin, his mask making so he couldn’t envelop his entire mouth over your skin as he wanted. The response he got from you, however, made him truly desperate.

Sitting up, his hand flew to the back of his mask but stopped right as he was about to unbuckle it. Anxiety hitting him hard. You seemed to notice it, though, as you followed him up into a sitting position.

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

His nervousness was clear as ice. But you could see in him that he wanted this. So you took his hands in yours and brought them down from the back of his head. “You don’t have to remove it.”, you whispered to him, you saw one of his hands come up, guessing he would spell something, you turned your head towards it.

‘Want’

You hummed at it and smiled. Turning back to look into his eyes, you asked;

“Want me to do it?” You dragged your fingers tenderly through his hair until you felt the buckles. You knew that taking the mask off to snap a photo must have been hard enough for him, so now? Taking it off in front of you? It has to be a real-life nightmare. He sighed deeply, then exhale being ragged and shaky. Yet still, he nodded. You felt his hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay…” You said before carefully and slowly unbuckling it. His eyes were closed during the whole removal. Finally getting it off, you cupped his naked and scarred cheeks, kissing the worst parts. Giving him the love he deserved, the one he most likely never got. His lips met yours again and you pulled him down with you. It seemed like he had gathered up more courage as you felt his big hands wander over your body, still shaking, they returned to cup your breasts. As one of his thumbs gently grazed over a nipple you lolled your head back at the sudden contact.

That’s when his attack came.

Lips and tongue made contact with your neck and you moaned . A sound that seemed to awaken something in him as he even bit down where your neck met your shoulder. He continued his adventure on your neck until your sounds had begun to die down only so slightly, but it seemed enough for him to go on a quest to hear more.

His mouth found one of your hardened nipples and decided to give it attention, in between gasping and your eyes falling close, you found and took his hand not occupied with anything and led it down… down across your body.

When it seemed he felt where you had led it, his eyes came up to your face to look into your own. His eyes filled with lust, and want, pupils were blown out, the blue of his irises a stark contrast.

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

“Tommy… Please.”, you sounded so desperate to him, so needy for someone like him. Who looked like him.

He brought his face back up to yours and as he gingerly pushed his hand down into your shorts, he himself made a needy sound as he felt how wet you’ve become because of him, he pressed his lips to yours the same moment his fingers made contact with your wet slit.

A way to cover up the now loud sounds you made as to not wake his family, and because of hunger, he didn’t know he had to swallow every bit of moan you made.

Burying his fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbed massaging circles on your clit, he panted against your neck, the other hand clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t make too much noise, as he moved his fingers in and out of you. At the same time, he slowly ground his erection against your thigh. He wanted to feel you climax around his fingers, he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he needed to. He’d seen you do it to yourself, and a part of him wanted to replace any memory of your fingers with his own.

He grinned when he saw a shaky hand come up in the corner of his eye and he guessed you wanted to tell him something, but the hand he held over your mouth hindered you, so using your hand would suffice. When he saw you couldn’t fully concentrate, he pulled his fingers from you to give you time. Hand dragging your own slick over your breast to mess with you as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Your breathing relaxed as you used the alphabet to give your word;

‘clit'

It was simple, a request, guidance, and Thomas were more than happy to please. You looked sweaty, but he happily obliged as his hand gingerly returned to massage gentle, but firm and methodical circles around your most sensitive part.

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

You pant into the palm of his hand as you felt your stomach clench, the muscles in your broken leg tense up. You were close, oh so close, and you wondered if he really was new to this, or if he was just lucky and really curious about everything.

Grasping at the arm wedged between your breasts that held the hand over your mouth, you opened your eyes, only to find his burning gaze locked on your face. He was looking at you like a hungry animal. His eyes sent full body shivers running through you. The familiar pulsing around your clit became worse as his lips parted slightly, his tongue running over his dry lips, removing his hand from your mouth, he captured your lower lip between his teeth lightly and pulled. A deep but raspy rumble came from his throat as he pushed two fingers into you while still rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub, your eyes went wide and all it took for you to snap completely was one single, vibrating word coming from his throat;

“Cum.”, and you did. You came hard. Your whole body shaking under his. Arching off the bed. You tensed so hard, no word could escape. The only sound being wheezing breathing from your lungs. You went limp, but you knew that this wasn’t the end. You felt his broad hands slide over your thighs in a calming motion, a finger tapping on you got your attention and you opened your eyes.

He just smiled down on you, raised a hand, and signed;

'U ok'

You breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah I'm alright.", you reached out for him and he happily put his own cheeks into your hands and nuzzled into one of them. You pulled him close to whisper; "I want you, Tommy.", he sighed softly as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I've wanted you for so long." You kissed your way to one of his ears, gingerly biting down on his earlobe, he shivered at it. "Please, fuck me, Tommy.", you said in a sultry voice and he groaned.

You cursed your leg since it hindered you from climbing on top of him. You wanted to trail your lips down his muscles, over his abdomen, and to explore the wonderful trail of hair that ventured down from his belly button into his boxers. Pushing him off the bed so he could stand in front of you, however, worked. The angle was perfect. His height putting your face just above the edge of his boxers. Your hands ventured from his thighs, slowly up his abdomen, a small almost unnoticed gasp left his lips as your fingers brushed over his nipples as you reached his pectorals.

Sitting up, your hands groped over his pectorals. You're stunned at his physique. He was soft where you liked it, muscles strong and firm where it mattered the most. You felt a finger under your chin as he lifted your head up to look at him, a grin danced in the corner of his lips, seeing it almost made you forget how to breathe. His grin made you braver and you let your hands travel downwards again while looking into his eyes. He made one sharp inhale as you slowly run your palm over his clothed erection.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you left a trail of kisses across his happy trail, leading downwards until you felt the part of him that seemed to silently beg for you. Neither photos nor videos did him any justice, and you moaned around his dick as his fingers tangled in your hair. His breathing was heavy, snarls and growls emanating from above you the deeper you managed to push his enormous cock down your throat.

Hollowing your cheeks as you drag your lips and tongue up and off of him, your tongue pressing on the underside massaging lightly at his silver jewelry, something that made him practically pull your mouth off of him with a pop. A clear snarl escaped him when you looked up at him with lips wet and swollen, and you couldn’t help but grin like the devil at him . He snarled at how you looked up at him, lips wet and swollen, and you couldn't help but grin like the devil at him.

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

Pushing you back down into the bed, he helped you off with your shorts before carefully putting your damaged leg up on his shoulder, something he had seen on the internet. Looking down at you, you looked so small and innocent, compared to him. An angel; undressed, needy, wet. And all of that for him. His heart was a drum, dangerously close to escaping his chest.

He felt like such a creep, a pervert who just stared down at your naked form. Hands groping your thighs and giving each of them a delicious squeeze before caressing your abdomen. One part of him was scared that he would damage you, the other part of him, laying over your mound and throbbing in pure need, wanted nothing more than to imprint himself into you. He jolted out of his reverence as he felt your hands wrap around his length, slowly moving over his head, making it wet with precum before you said the words he wanted to hear;

"It's okay, Tommy… I want you.", he nodded and pulled back slightly, letting you help guide him home.

A whine and a haggard groan came from him as he felt you slowly wrap around him, and his head fell backward. Warm, wet, and tight. All he wanted at this moment was to keep pushing until all of him was hilted inside you , but a small whimper from you pulled him out of his trance and he was quick to pull out before you stopped him.

"No! It's okay!", Thomas looked down at you with worry in his eyes, but a few reassuring “okay"s and "it's fine"s managed to convince him, and slowly he pushed further in.

Thomas was soaring at this point. Your walls hugging him in all the right places, your moans and gasps sending shivers down his spine and exploding in his cock. A groan left him as he felt your walls clench when his tongue entered your mouth. Slowly, he started thrusting.

The first one had you gasping into his mouth. At the second, you broke the kiss. The third, a particularly loud moan left you, making him have to clamp his hand over your mouth again. When the fourth thrust hit, he saw your eyes roll back and you arching off the bed, and he took that as his sign to go to town.

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

You were a total mess. Your head was bleary, your eyes blurry with joyful tears. Your ass is moist from your own arousal that streamed down your thighs as Thomas' fucked into you as a man starved.

He had hurt first, his dick big enough to split you in two if you were unlucky. But as soon as the pain had subsided, you begged for more.

For "harder" and "faster", words that only spurred him on, his thrusts became deeper, hitting parts inside you you didn’t know could feel good. Making you a blubbering mess, his name tumbling out from behind his hand every time the lewd sound of his hips hitting your wet thighs reached your ears. So here you were, a hand tightly clamped over your mouth to keep you from alerting the family of your activity with tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

Suddenly, you felt even more pleasure as he started rubbing your clit with his other thumb. All you could do was look down at the mess he had made of you and up to his eyes.

Him, just as much of a mess as you, huffing and puffing, hair sticking to his forehead, chest coated in sweat, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed, face contorted in pleasure. The sight made your cunt clench around him, squeezing a wheezing sound from his throat.

His attention to your clit quickly brought the familiar feelings of your orgasm. Wiggling your upper teeth free you to bite down on his hand as you looked into his eyes, your own pleading for release. One hard press and a few circles with his thumb made you snap. One hand gripping the sheet until your knuckles turned white, the other clawing at his arm, you had to force yourself not to scream behind his hand as you came on his dick. His hips started moving in pure desperation, and you figured he was close. He leaned in, and you felt his lips and tongue brush against your neck before that deep, baritone voice of his came out in your ear again; "Haaahhh… fuck." How he managed to make one word feel so filthy, you had no idea. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. And again. And again . Wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand entangling in his hair and grabbing a fist full of his dark locks to pull at it to pull his face to yours, your action earning you a delicious sound from him. Tommy is an absolute mess, he’s trembling above you.

And you can’t help but smile at him.

“Are you close, baby?”, you whisper to his lips and he nods fervently as he desperately chases his release. Pulling his hair again, you expose his neck to you. The neck you’ve wanted to taste since you saw his face for the first time. Whimpers begin to tumble from him, adorable desperate sounds of pleasure escaping as you slowly drag your tongue over his neck.

But it’s when your teeth sink into him that he breaks down.

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

Thomas pushes himself as far as he can as his release crashes into him like a tidal way, pushing you further up the bed. His groaning voice loud but choked, doing his best to swallow the sounds he makes when his cock finally fills you. The pain from the bite shooting through his body and mixing with the euphoric feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He shivers as he feels your tongue lap over the bite mark. Somewhere inside of him, he hopes it won’t leave a mark, though right at this moment where he’s in the process of marking you as his, he doesn’t really care if it does leave a mark.

He’s shaking as he looks down at your equally exhausted form. He gives you a tired smile, an exhausted one, and leans his forehead against yours, your breathing a cold refreshing gust of air at his sweaty face. He could stay in this position his entire life. Pure bliss. But his muscles start complaining, and he hisses as he pulls himself out to collapse next to you, chuckling as you bounce slightly because of his weight dropping all at once.

Poking your cheek to get you to open your eyes, seeing as you’re well on your way to a night of deep sleep, he spells out a question;

‘U ok?’’

He lets out a sigh of relief as you nod tiredly. Even if he had just fucked every drop of energy out of both you and himself, he’s surprised to see you cuddle up into his sweaty chest. Unsure of what to do, he relaxes just a tiny bit as you laugh before taking his arms and wrapping them around yourself. It takes a while for Thomas to relax to the point of falling asleep, but as his brain is slowly registering that you’re not leaving him, and that you actually have fallen asleep in his arms, he lets sleep take him, with his face buried in your hair.

#CICU #Can I See You #modern!thomas #modern thomas fanfiction #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern au

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goldenlaquer · 4 years

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Hey, can I ask for some headcanons, please? For Gin, Toshi, Sougo and Kamui. About how they were in a fight, separated from their so and something happened like an exposion or whatever, anyway the main point is that they thought that their so have died but later they see her alive and relatively unharmed. So the headcanons of them when they thought they lost their so and when they see that she is ok. Sorry, this is so specific and long, I'm just a slut for some angst and I love your writings

Thank you for the support and sorry for the wait! I don’t know if I’m that much good at conveying angst but let’s bring on the feels!

Gintama Headcanons:

Hijikata Toushirou:

Hijikata stands on top of a pile of rubble, and surveys the destruction around him.

His hands don’t shake. His feet are firm against the ground. His shoulders are straight and rigid against the fleeting wind. Smoke escapes him in steady stream, and when he inhales in, the dust and fire of the air sticks to the walls of his lungs like sludge.

To the men who stop to look at their vice-commander with their ugly concerns plastered on their ugly mugs: He’s fine.

To the Gorilla who can’t stop asking him the question every ten minutes and that, he really should take a break or else at this rate, he’ll collapse: He’s fine.

To the brat who stubbornly stays by his side like spit-up gum on the sole of his shoe: He’s fine, damn it, so go do your job and leave him alone.

For once, Sougo doesn’t have anything clever to quip back at him. He doesn’t need to-- the silence between them speaks better than words. And Hijikata hates what it says, so he turns back to the grey landscape, eyes darting and sifting through the mangled and charred parts to see something, anything that is you.

Nothing.

He reaches for a cigarette, pulls it out of his pocket like second nature. The lighter is the trickier to work. The blasted thing refuses to flicker on. Oh, the cigarette falls down. Hijikata bends to pick it up. He tries again. The cigarette falls down. He stares at it. His shoe crushes it. He’s stomping down hard. Sougo is still silent, watching. Hijikata doesn’t care.

The facade of normalcy is gone. Here he is: Taking his frustrations out on a sad little cig, like it’s the cause of all his fucking problems, like it’s going to bring you back. Harsh pants come out of his mouth, and in another series, they’d sound like something akin to sobs, but his face is dry.

“Hijikata.” He ignores Sougo. The cigarette is reduced to paper and dry leaves scuffed against concrete. “Hijikata.” He doesn’t answer.

Okita, with an eye-roll, kicks Hijikata square in the back and knocks him off the pile.

Sougo, what the fuck? He. Is. Mourning. Hijikata has always known Sougo to be insensitive, but this is blatantly crossing several lines and he clearly doesn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with.

But if it’s a fight that bastard wants, Hijikata will give it to him. He leaps up from the ground, ready to hand Sougo an express ticket to hell, misty eyes narrowing in anger as he looks up

and the breath is knocked out of him in a way that years of chain-smoking had miraculously failed to do

Standing before him, white particles clinging to your clothes, hair, and eyebrows, is the damn most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The feet move faster than he can process, and by the time his arms are around you and he’s breathing in the scent he thought he’d lost forever

“Fuck.” Because that’s the only appropriate response he can say without his voice cracking. “Don’t do that again.”

Kamui:

Loss is not a new thing. It was in the labored rise and fall of his mother’s chest, the pallidness of her white skin. The feel of his sister’s small hands, fisting in his clothes and pleadingly tugging back, her blue eyes wide and wet. It was in the looming shape of his father’s retreating back.

But there were other, worthier things to focus on. The pain in his knuckles slamming against bone and muscle. The taut stretch of his lips as he licks his wounds, tasting metal and victory. The title of ‘Universe’s Strongest’ nearly within his grasp. He didn’t have time for the weak. Didn’t have time to be weak.

Loss is not new, and yet there is something about this loss. Now, Loss is a sentient being, latching to his throat and squeezing as he grapples through the mud.

Abuto’s face is too blank and too careful. His voice is low and calm and reasoning, and he is saying things, but Kamui doesn’t listen. The words ‘she’ and ‘gone’ don’t mix, they don’t make any sense, so why should he listen? He digs and digs and digs, not hearing, he can’t, his ears and eyes are filled with the same muddy brown that must also be filling yours. Kamui works even faster, his nails splintering against the rocks embedded in the wet ground.

Hair released from its braid, trussed and caked in dirt. Pupils dilated, black swallowing blue. His face abnormally slack as he claws in frenzy, in desperation at the ground like a wild animal.

There are few things in this world Kamui can’t fight. No matter his strength, one cannot simply beat Mother Nature into submission. But there is no excuse. If he cannot save one woman from something as stupid as dirt, then what is the point? What use is his strength? He didn’t leave that tiny, rainy planet, ignoring all the things left behind with it, to become this weakling who couldn’t even manage to keep you by his side like he promised.

He’s a young brat again, helplessness coloring every pore. A damsel in distress. Someone who can’t save, but needs saving. He is no different than the baldy. Unable to keep promises. Unable to protect. Unable to do anything. Was he always this fragile? Pathetic.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. The word is a punishing mantra in his mind.

Something crashes into him. It’s not near enough to make him pause in his digging, but the something is tugging on his clothes. Incoherent, muffled shouting in his ears. He doesn’t pay it any mind because mud keeps slipping back in place despite all his useless strength and you’re still trapped, waiting for him--

“KAMUI!”

He blinks in surprise, snapping from the heavy cloud covering his mind. He’s flat on the ground, staring up at you. How he got there, he doesn’t know, but you are here in front of him, covered head-to-toe in mud and crying.

He is silent, watching as you blubber concerns and curses. A curious hand reaches out to your face in wonder, carefully tracing the path that a salty tear had made down your cheek. The familiarity of your soft skin warms his numb body and a small smile emerges from his lips.

As you sit on top of him, crying not because you are scared but because he’s such a stupid idiot, he realizes that that he isn’t all alone just yet, that there’s one thing that refuses to leave him.

Okita Sougo:

It’s happening again. And it honestly makes him want to laugh.

He doesn’t believe in it, karma, but when you think that you’ve gotten used to the pain of losing someone you love, his rotten, black heart has to go and get ripped out for the second time as if he forgot, as if he needed reminding that there’s no way someone like him deserves something as good as happiness. There’s no other explanation to this shit luck other than that, for the accumulation of every filthy deed he’s done with his filthy hands and every fucking sin he has committed once and twice and will most definitely commit thrice, someone has to pay for it.

And because Karma is two bitches and a half, that someone wasn’t him.

There it is. The laughter finally comes out as he looks at the torn fabric in his clenched fist. It comes out harsh and hollow and, if you listened hard enough, choked, but who’s checking? Not him. Not Mitsuba. And certainly not you.

He reported it to the vice-commander himself, voice robotic, telling how he was walking front of you when it happened, how the enemy somehow managed to predict your movements and ambushed the both of you on a bridge, how he had been unable to react in time to stop the silver flash of a knife and how the world tilted, too fast and too slow, and that there was a piece of hanging rope that he managed to snag on to with one hand and when he blindly flashed out the other to grasp at you, reaching through free air and snatching at cloth, it ripped from his fingers, and you fell to the chasm below. Deep enough, Okita said as he looked straight into Hijikata’s eyes, that death would be quick and painless.

If nothing else could go right for him, then at least for this, he hoped, even fucking prayed, that it was painless.

Hijikata doesn’t react to the report with anything unnecessary, just a stiff upper lip and an “okay” before he walks off to stand somewhere far enough, yet close enough. For all their differences, Hijikata knows. He understands losing youthful love, and that the pity that comes with it is nothing more than steaming trash. In this way and other ways that he’d sooner eat shit than to admit aloud, Okita is grateful for him.

He stops mid mirthless chuckle to shove the hand holding what’s left of you up to his eyes, slanting his head downwards so his bangs cover what he doesn’t want the world to know what he’s somehow still capable of. Hijikata is tactfully looking away. Over the distance, Kondo is bellowing orders to his men who keep a wide berth from the spot where their 1st Division Captain stands. This is the only opportunity he can afford to be an eighteen year old again. Sougo swallows thickly, feeling the roughness of fabric dampen against his eyelids.

Acutely, he hears the sound of footsteps. It is slow and steady and he thinks that they belong Kondo at first but the weight of them is too light for a gorilla. Before he can process this information further, the steps halt for several long seconds before starting again, this time faster and more urgent, lurching in his direction. Hijikata mutters an astounded “shit” but for whatever reason doesn’t move to intercept. Okita really isn’t in the mood to deal with dumbasses but the sword by his side is already unsheathed and he’s aiming his red eyes to glare at whoever the fuck--

Arms wrap around his waist. A face burrows into his chest. His knees almost give out, but his name is Okita Sougo and he has already maxed out his whiny bitch points for the next decade. Instead, he drops his sword to cup the back of your very-much-alive head, caressing the wet silk of it before threading his trembling fingers through the strands to

sharply tug you from his chest and grasp your cheeks with one hand, squeezing your expression to that of a startled fish.

“Now,” Okita murmers, the smirk on his lips at odds with how fucking great it feels to see you again. “What should I do with you?”

Sakata Gintoki:

Before they say anything, he knows.

He has seen that type of expression too many times to ever forget the set jaw, the horrible attempt at stilling a trembling bottom lip, the unshed tears of eyes that can’t seem to stop roving, unable to face the recipient of bad news for more than half a second, and the pallidness of knuckles straining against skin, holding onto their clothes like a lifeline.

He knows this expression so well he can gaze down at Shinpachi and Kagura with well-placed apathy, perfectly appearing as if his lungs aren’t threatening to collapse on itself when he notices who is not there with them, and tell them in his same old way to stop sucking on their teeth and finish what they can’t seem to get out because he has an appointment at the pachinko parlor at four and if they don’t finish up this job by three-thirty he is going to dock their nonexistent pay by 80%. It hides the rising nausea and stone weight of the stomach well.

This time, however, his casual rudeness doesn’t make them react the way he wants them to, it only makes them fold into themselves even further.

The thing is, no matter how many times you see it and know better than to entertain it, there’s always this one glimmer of hope, so ridiculously strong that you’d gladly pray to anyone and everyone, even if you don’t really believe, because if anything is possible then it better be possible that this isn’t bad news, or that even if it is bad news then the worst of the pinched expression is just a by-product of eating food gone bad or the pain of an ingrown toenail, that it isn’t about someone dying or dead.

But life rarely goes like that, and Gintoki lives in an extra-shittier life compared to most people.

When you stumble across them, hair singed and smelling of gunpowder and smoke, there is something so thick and so wrong with the air, something that makes you stop from crying out in elation at seeing the people you love most. Shinpachi is fastidiously rubbing his eyes and Kagura has her face buried against Sadaharu’s fur and Gintoki

Gintoki looks alone. And you don’t think you have ever seen him look like that, so withdrawn into himself that even if he is surrounded by people, there’s nothing that can come close to him, nothing that can ease the dull bleakness of his eyes and the defeated hunch of his shoulders. He looks like a single thread worn too thin, on the verge of snapping. He looks like nothing matters anymore. Nothing.

You dislike it. You hate it. You hate it so much, to see this man turn into something so unfamiliar and terrifying and gut out. You don’t know this Gintoki. You want the other one back, the one who wouldn’t hesitate to smear dog shit and boogers on the back of your jacket and the one who doesn’t really mind it when you take a sip of his spoiled strawberry milk.

So when you shout out loudly, so loud that vibrates the space, that you’re here and alive and that you didn’t, couldn’t die because how could such a measly explosion off you when there were idiots waiting back home for you, to see Kagura and Shinpachi fly to you, screaming and whooping as they open their arms wide for your hug, snot running down their noses, and Gintoki snap his head up, disbelieving at first, yet searching your form with a speck of hope that brings life back to his dead eyes, and when he finds whatever he was searching for, he goes to you on steady feet, folding his arms around the group, gaze still drinking your form up as he leans across Shinpachi’s and Kagura’s heads to bump his forehead against yours, his breath sighing out something like relief-- it almost makes you cry, or maybe it does because you can feel something wet trailing down your face.

Gintoki is silent for the most part, because Kagura and Shinpachi are doing most of the talking for him, but when he does speak, it is to say:

“Damn, there goes the life insurance money.”

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama x reader #gintama imagine #sakata gintoki #kamui yato #hijikata toushirou #okita sougo #answered ask #asks closed

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Intricacy on Strings - pt. 10

Pretending. That was what it was. You and him pretending that nothing more than friendship ceased to exist.

Two months... Pretending.

He pretends. He pretends that he doesn't feel more than he should or see what he doesn't.

He loves you like flowers love the sun. He's the flower, you're his sun.

He pretends he doesn't see you looking at him in class. He pretends he doesn't care when in reality he wants to grab you off that chair and just take you away and lock both of you up in a cupboard, explode like a champagne.

He feels like he will... Soon.

"Good luck pretty boys." you wrapped your arms around their shoulders and lifted yourself up, taking a swing before landing on your feet.

George let out a laugh, Fred stayed tense.

"Cheering for your boyfriend today?" George asked, looking at your blue sweater.

"How dare you judge me like this, Georgie." you gasped, taking your hoodie off and revealinga Gryffindor shirt with a red-golden tie on it.

Fred didn't even look at you until George pointed it out. "Oi, where'd you get that tie from?"

Fred finally turned to look at you, eyes focusing on the red-golden tie around your neck. His tie.

And what was it again?

Pretending?

"Why?" he snarked at you, rolling his eyes far back his head.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him but you tried to brush it off, looking at his brother. "I'm a little petty thief." you wrinkled your nose at him and George snorted, ignoring his brother as well.

"Happy to know you know your priorities." George teased as you all walked together to the field, feeling slightly uncomfortable as Fred beside you kept his body tense, his face stern.

His heart was thumping in his chest, muffled sound around him only hearing bitses of your voice in the background. It was as if you pulled a string, a red string, the forbidden string. You pulled that string in him and he started to tear apart.

He started panting from anger, from frustration he couldn't help himself but feel everything inside of him bubbling on the surface.

"George, you go on. I need to talk to, (y/n) for a while." he stopped and both, you and George exchanged a perplexed, worried look.

You swallowed it. You swallowed the whole fear and anxiety, smiling brightly at him.

He wasn't the only one pretending. If you could count the days you cried over him and then cried because you were falling in love with a different man. You were crying because this was a change that was good but not really what you wanted because it felt so foreign. It didn't feel like home no matter how many times you tried to decive yourself.

Fred was home. Perry was just there and it hurt you to feel like that because somehow, you knew you deserved Perry but at the same time Perry wasn't Fred. You still loved him.....but it started to fade. It started to fade how much you love him because Perry was so easy to love. Perry was simple.

So you pretended that you love Perry more than you love Fred.

"Take it off." he breathed out through his teeth, gritting them afterwards as if steam was leaving his ears.

Confused, you grabbed the tie and pulled it closer to yourself.

Pretend, (y/n). Pretend. - you told yourself, placing the same forced smile.

"Missing it?" you shoved him playfully but he didn't budge but glared, glared as if he was going to explode.

It scared you... No, it petrified you to see him like this.

"Take. It. Off." he growled at you, taking a step forward.

You took a step back, holding onto that tie for dear life. "No." you croaked, feeling tears in your eyes and not really knowing why but understanding.

"Just take it off."

"Why?"

"I don't want you wearing my tie."

"Why not?"

"Becuase it's not yours."

"But I wanted to support both of you-"

"SUPPORT HIM!" the champagne finally poped and he could feel himself pouring. "SUPPORT YOUR PERFECT RAVENCLAW QUIDDITCH CAPTIAN BOYFRIEND! WEAR HIS TIE!"

You felt frightened by the tone of his voice, by the volume and the weakness it seemed to show.

"Why are you yelling at me?" you voice was small, quiet,... frightened.

It made him laugh and cry at the same time. He didn't know what was happening to him but he was here, remembering how you held him, kissed him, soothed him, hugged him, been there, been there for everything... and now you weren’t because there is another guy taking his place. He doesn’t have you anymore and it’s making him lose his mind into insanity.

And it’s his fault. He waited! He thought he had time when he didn’t. It’s too late and it’s making him frustrated because now the things he wanted to do with you, you are doing with another person. He wanted to love you properly. He wanted to give you the love he was holding back so long. He wanted to love you the way you were supposed to be loved and instead he is frightening you.

Tears streamed down his cheeks like waterfall.

It was the first time you saw him cry. It broke your heart.

“Because I love you, (y/n).” his voice broke, the tightness in his throat taking away half of its strenght. “I love you so much. I love you.” his eyes continued to provide salty tears, wide traces imprinting on his cheeks.

There it was. Everything you ever wanted to hear.

But somehow, you weren’t happy about it.

“It’s been you. It’s been you the whole time. You who I should have taken to the Ball, you who I can’t wait to see in the morning and spend the rest of my day with. It’s you who I want to kiss and hug and love and touch. It’s you. It’s always been you and it’s been torturing seeing someone I want to be with for the rest of life with somebody else.”

Your limbs went numb. Your brain went into a spiral of everything. You couldn’t even feel yourself hit the ground until he was picking you back up.

Everything. Every single word you wanted to hear from him and he finally said it... he said it and you couldn’t figure out why you weren’t happy about it.

“I should have told you that day after the match. I should have told you before he got to you.” he said and your head snapped up at him.

He lifted you up but as soon as your feet landed on the floor you shoved him away so hard, slamming him against the wall. “YOU- YOU- YOU-!” you stormed to him and started punching his chest. “YOU INCONCEIVABLE, DENSE- PREPOSTEROUS LITTLE FUCK1!!!” you continued to throw your fists into his chest but he caught them in his large hands and stopped you. You slapped him across the cheek quite hard and regretted it immediately but you were so furious at him. “YOU WAITED TWO BLOODY MONTHS!! I WAITED MONTHS AND MONTHS TO EVEN GET A HINT THAT YOU MIGHT LOVE ME BACK AND YOU’RE CONFESSING IT ALL TO ME TWO MONTHS INTO MY NEW RELATIONSHIP!!!!” you bellowed and pushed yourself away, facing him your back and huffing.

He stood there, stoic, staring at you with wide eyes as if something clicked inside of him.

“Love you back?” he repeated what you had said but you were already talking and fuming to yourself, pacing back and forward, running your hands down your face.

“(y/n), move on. He doesn’t love you. And he has the audacity to just say it, flat out.” you continued to pace up and down, wiping him out of the scene as your thoughts came rushing in and out of your head.”When?” you turned around, glaring and clenching your jaw.

“The button thing.” he couldn’t help himself but smile as he said that, realizing it himself.

You, however, felt your eye twitch. Oh, how you wanted to attack him right now. Hell, you were fist first storming to him right now.

His smile fell and his eyes widened. Before you fist could touch him first he moved away and wrapped his long arms around you, feeling you kicking and shouting.

“Calm down, gremlin.” he lifted you up, locking your arms in a tight embrace with one arm and slapping his other hand on your lips.

You wriggled in his arms, feeling the anger leave your body.

He squeezed you tight, gently tight- where he pressed his body against yours just for a second of time, embracing the moment.

You turned around with tears in your eyes. You couldn’t believe it. Your mind couldn’t process it.

His hands framed your head, cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears. He smiled, leaning his forehead on yours and brushing his nose against the bridge of your own. He closed his eyes shut, breathing evenly as his heart filled itself with love. “I love you.” he whispered, letting it known to you that he was prepared to tell you this phrase again and again. He brushed his upper lip agaisnt the tip of your nose. “I love you so much.” he continued to speak quietly, alluring you in with his voice and embracing you with the feeling of home.

Your hands ended wrapping themselves around his neck, your toes pushing themselves up so that your lips were less than an inch apart. He gazed down on you as you looked up into his chocolate brown, darker as the clouds covered the sun.

His hands, on your waist, pressed you closer to him, letting your upper body lean back a bit, eyes seductive, lips inviting.

No more pretending.

He is not going to wait anymore; leaning forward his nose touched the tip of yours, teasing your lips with a small touch- just to intense the intimacy between the two of you until he fully pressed himself onto you, his lips in a love lock with yours.

It spread like fire. From your lips to every inch of your body. Like poison burnt your skin, he burns your soul. Kisses, deep and lustful, differing from anything else you have experianced, they spun your head in circles.

Your hands pulled him down, then dug themselves into his dense hair. It was as if your sould wanted to consume him whole.

He smiled against your lips, taking a firmer grip of your hips and pulling you to close any bit of space that was left between the two of you.

He won’t let you go. Not anymore.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley

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bundleofyarrow · 3 years

Text

Bundle of Yarrow Chapter 7 is up!

Your adventure continues! Spending your last days in the Wild Area with Milo before you get to Motostoke. But so many feelings have gone unspoken. What will come out before you have to part ways? Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087343/chapters/72689874 or below the cut! Comments and feedback always welcome <3

West Lake Axewell

The first thing you notice is how incredibly quiet it was. If you were next to a body of water in Alola, it was almost certainly the ocean, rolling in from the distance, rhythmically crashing against the shore. As you look to the gigantic lake, its stillness shook you. Underneath the overcast sky it was almost eerie, with the only movement being the occasional water Pokemon breaking the surface. Your body wanted to shiver, but it’s wasn’t really that cold, just grey and silent. The breeze seemed to rustle the tall grass more than wild Pokemon.

“Quite the sight, huh?” Milo was looking out at the lake also as the both of you approached it. “One of the few flat areas in Galar, you can see straight across.”

He was right, though you can’t really make out much given the fading light and how cloudy it is. But you do see the walls of a large city, making you pause a bit. You forgot that civilization existed for a while, what with all the dangers of the Wild Area. Who lets kids, much less anyone without experience, just waltz in here?

“Is that…?”

“Yep, that there’s Motostoke! The city gates are pretty much on the opposite side of the lake from us.”

So close, yet so far. You let out a little sigh.

“You alright? Leg botherin’ ya?” The concern in his voice creates a funny feeling in your stomach.

You put out your leg and rotate your foot in the air. “I think it’s fine, it hasn’t gotten worse at least. It’s more that I haven’t done camping and hiking like this in my entire life. So to get so much of it all at once has been quite the experience.” To put it lightly.

“Definitely havin’ an adventure, aren’t ya?” He offers a smile, because of course his first instinct is to lighten the mood. And it’s nice, you enjoy it.

“You can say that again!”

Milo scans the path in front of you. “I know we’ve been goin’ at it all day, but if we can cross that bridge over there,” He points out to a large wooden bridge that spans the skinniest part of the lake. “and then set up camp, Motostoke is reachable tomorrow.” Milo looks back to you, still concerned. “What do ya think?”

Nodding, you shift the bag on your back to sit more comfortably. “Sounds like a plan! Thanks so much for being my guide Milo, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looks away, pink tufts of hair blocking his expression from view. “Oh it’s nothin’…” He mumbles out, among other indiscernible words.

The both of you maintain idle chit-chat along the way, mainly you pointing at a Pokemon you don’t recognize and Milo telling you what he knows about it. You get the sense that Milo is a bit of an introvert, and that silence without the pressure to talk is something that comforts him. He fumbles over his words often, but you find that charming. He seems preoccupied with trying to say the right thing, and the right thing tends to come naturally, except when you catch him off-guard. It’s hard not to enjoy watching him get flustered over little things.

As you draw closer to the bridge, you notice that the amount of tall grass in the area is increasing. There’s a clear path forward, but you feel a bit uneasy. Like someone, or something, was watching you. Rustling in the tall grass picked up the further along you went, and you instinctively grasped Milo’s arm. You had been walking without his support for a while now, so Milo jumped a bit in surprise.

“Milo, something is stalking us in the tall grass.”

“H-huh?” When you look over, his head is turned in the opposite direction, like he was avoiding something.

“Wait, what’s the matter? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m f-fine! Jus’ dandy!”

“Why won’t you look at me? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothin’! Don’t-”

“PAN!”

A small figure dashed out of the tall grass and right in the path of you and Milo. You actually recognized this one, it was a Pancham. She began to execute a series of martial arts moves, not attacking either of you but clearly it was a show of force. The Pancham ended with a dramatic and aggressive pose, shooting her most intimidating glare at you.

“CHAM!”

Moments pass in silence until you can’t handle it anymore.

You begin to giggle. “It’s adorable.”

The Pancham is clearly shocked at your reaction.

Milo smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s a cutie pie that’s for sure.”

Her head hangs in shame. It seems like the Pokemon really thought she really had the upper hand here.

You walk over and squat down in front of her. “Hey now, don’t be sad! Just because you’re adorable doesn’t mean you’re not also very cool and strong!”

“Pan…?” The Pokemon’s eyes looked up to you, glistening.

“You’re the most fearsome Fighting Pokemon I’ve met in Galar!” Granted, this is the first Fighting-type you’ve met since you arrived, but she didn’t need to know that.

Pancham’s paws went to her hips and she confidently posed with that leaf in her mouth. You slowly extended your hand, and as you didn’t feel like she meant any harm, pet her on the head. She couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle into your hand.

“Something tells me you’re in the mood to play, am I right?”

The Pokemon nods before turning to the side and shadowboxing some more.

“How about this: if you can guide us across this scary bridge,” You gesture to your next destination. “I’ll let you battle with my Pokemon while we set up camp. And I’m sure Milo’s would love to make some new friends too, right Milo?”

You look back to Milo, who is looking down to you with a smile. This smile felt different from his usual, though you couldn’t really pinpoint why.

“You betchya! I have a few achin’ to have some fun.”

“What do you say? Will you help us out? We could use a brave Pokemon like you.”

If the Pancham still had a bruised ego, that was yesterday and now is a brand new day. She turned around and marched towards the bridge, looking about for any dangers to quell.

You rose from your low position, but must have struck a weird angle doing so because your injured leg felt weak. Stumbling and giving out a quick yelp, you felt a sudden pair of hands on your torso.

“Easy there now.” Milo helped you stand. “Leg still actin’ up?”

His hands were both gentle and firm as they helped you balance, and you were definitely blushing feeling him so close.

“Th-thanks Milo.” The Butterfree inside you danced. “It’s not so bad. I’m sure some rest will do it good.”

Eventually he lets you go when it seemed you were stable, and guided you forward behind the Pancham with a light palm on your back. It impressed you how he acted this way so naturally. Not that you were a cold person who ignored others in peril. But it seemed his body just moved like a reflex whenever someone was in need.

“It’s amazing how well you handled that Pancham.” Milo said it more to himself that you, like he was musing about something. “If you don’t end up a trainer, I could see ya as a great Pokemon breeder.” You’ve never considered the possibility before. “We have a Daycare Center right by Turffield, you should visit it sometime!”

“Oh? Is Turffield where you’re from?”

“Born n’ raised!” He beams with pride. "I miss it each time I have to travel. Quite peaceful, and the folk are humble and kind. It may not be a big fancy city but, it's home.”

It isn't long until you all make it to the bridge. The Pancham makes an exaggerated scouting motion, as if trying to scope out any enemies. Satisfied with the safety of the bridge, she waves the two of you to follow her.

The bridge itself feels sturdy, which is a relief because it's quite long. You can see from here that Lake Axewell is full of powerful looking Pokemon, and you'd rather not meet any by falling in. Crossing the bridge went by rather uneventfully, mostly Milo sounding homesick through how he described Turffield to you, and Pancham turning back to look at you both, as if she really did feel responsible for ensuring your safety.

You realized this was the most Milo has talked without prompting since you both met, bubbling with enthusiasm when you asked him questions about his hometown. It’s almost like you finally found the thing that let down his walls a little bit. It was easy for Milo to come off as polite and well-mannered, but before now you had a creeping fear he was just being nice because that was the normal thing to do.

“Now you have to come n’ visit. All my Wooloo will love ya’.” But this made you feel a little better.

Once across the bridge, the colors of dusk were full in the sky. Thankfully it was easy enough to find a clearing nearby to set up camp. You let out your Pokemon to play with Pancham, only to have Wooloo and Yamper tackle to you the ground, giving you their excited and excessive versions of affection. Between your fits of giggles, you realize that your Pokemon probably felt your distress, but you left them in your bag and they were unable to get out.

“I missed you all too, I’m sorry it’s taken so long for you all to come out- ack, Yamper! Not in my mouth!” You can’t help but laugh as you sit up and hug your excited Pokemon. “And don’t forget to acquaint yourselves with Lotad!” The two scamper over to Vanillite and Lotad, who are chatting. You notice your Pancham guide acting a bit bashful to the side. “Now don’t be shy, everyone’s friendly! You all, make room for a new friend!” You gently push her towards your Pokemon, who let her join in.

The sound of opening Pokeballs draws your attention to your left, where you see three Pokemon floating around Milo. Two of them are the same species, though one seems incredibly stronger than the other. He’s gently petting them and whispering hellos.

“Go on, introduce yourselves.” They ride the breeze over to you, giggling and twirling around you. These must be native to Galar, or at least missing from Alola’s ecosystems, because you’ve never seen them before.

“This redhead here is Gossifleur,” Milo began, anticipating your question. Gossifleur spun as if on cue. “and these two elegant cotton balls are Eldegoss.” Both bowed towards you. The Gossifleur and one of the Eldegoss went over to join the other Pokemon, who were starting to play. “This one gave that Seismitoad a what-for when you were in trouble.” Made sense, he seemed way more experienced and skilled than any of the other Pokemon present.

You smiled and bowed as well. “I am in your debt. If you ever need me to sneak you treats past Milo, just give me the word.”

“H-hey now…” Milo put his hands to his hips as the Eldegoss twirled and giggled some more.

The two of you began to set up camp and the Pokemon romped and battled with each other. You were kind of relieved that your Pokemon could fight without direction, calling out orders in battle felt weird. If your Pokemon could fight more instinctively, that would would help out in future encounters.

First you helped Milo get his tent up, which his elder Eldegoss rested on top of the moment you finished. Then you looked around for sticks and dried up driftwood, since this area had less trees than the others you’ve camped at so far. You spot Milo squatting down at the coast of the lake and pulling up roots of some sort. Eventually you make it back to camp and begin stacking the wood, and Milo returns with what looks to be vegetables just washed in the lake.

“So for dinner, I’m thinkin’ I’ll-”

“Oh no no.” You interrupt, taking the roots from him. “You have been working so hard taking care of me. Let me do something for you.”

This catches Milo by surprise, which makes him a bit flustered. You realize that he does a lot so naturally that it must rattle him when something unexpected happens.

“But I don’t m-mind! You’re hurt ‘n all.”

“How about you start the fire, then check in on the Pokemon and make sure everyone’s playing nice?”

He blinks a few times before showing you a bit of an embarrassed smile. “M’kay, only if you promise to holler if you need help.”

“Promise.”

You borrow Milo’s paring knife while he takes out some flint for fire-making. Along with the roots you have mushrooms that you picked in the Dappled Grove and the berries that survived the trip from the Rolling Fields. You bring the root up to your nose and smell it, immediately jerking it away when you get a strong pungent, bitter smell.

“I can go find something else if you want-”

“Milo.”

He looks a little startled. “Y-yes?”

You see that the fire is growing and should be fine for cooking in due time. You point over to where the Pokemon are hanging out. “Go play.” Milo almost scrambles over to the group, and you smile a bit as they cheer and involve him into their activities. You can hear some giggling from behind you, likely his Eldegoss still perched on the tent.

Turning back to the ingredients in front of you, it’s likely the meal will have to be centered around the pungent root and mushrooms. The root will have to be peeled and well-grilled to begin tempering the bitterness, meaning you will likely grill the mushrooms as well. They would be okay together, but need a little more balancing… You sift through the berries in your bag until you find what you’re looking for: persim berries. Cooking this into the roux of the curry is bound will downplay the bitter elements of the root and allow the mushrooms to shine a bit more.

Grabbing a pot Milo brought with him, you head down to the lake. Milo looks like he’s about to say something to you, but the Pokemon tackle him for his attention. You fill it with water and return it to the fire, beginning prep work as it begins to boil. You put in the rice and eventually make the curry with persim paste. As all that cooks, you take a small break as everyone is making some noise and you see a bright light flash from the center of the group. Lotad was evolving, and you got to be the first to congratulate her as you hug your new Lombre. She seemed a lot more relaxed in this form, and looking around, it seemed like your Pokemon were training and tiring themselves out. You’ll have to check and see if they learned any new moves later.

Returning to the fire, you set up makeshift skewers so you can grill all the sliced mushrooms and root that you can. Once everything is done cooking you make plates for Milo and yourself by creating a bed of rice, scooping on the persim curry, and topping it all with the grilled root and mushrooms. Then you set out the rest for the Pokemon, calling everyone over to eat.

Milo and the Pokemon bound over enthusiastically to grab their helpings. Milo beams when you hand him his plate. In your periphery, you notice the Pancham acting shy again. “You didn’t come all this way just to look at others eat did you? Come, join your friends!” It seems like all she needed was permission because she bolted over immediately to eat with the rest of the Pokemon.“This is great!” Milo was shoveling in his dinner, he must have been hungrier than he let on. “I’ve never had such a well-considered meal while camping.”

You smiled at his compliment and took a bite yourself. The grilling helped bring out the sweet and savory elements while the curry had a balancing effect, to the point where you were actually enjoying the bitter profile of the pungent root. Not bad for making something out of completely foraged items!

If it wasn’t for everyone starting to quiet down because their mouths were full, you wouldn’t have heard the faint vibrating in your bag. You look over to Milo, who has his mouth full.

“I’m going to answer my phone, sorry if I take a while.”

He nods, clearly wanting to say something but instead focusing on chewing and swallowing his food as you slip towards your bag by the fire. You sit crossed-legged with your curry in your lap, and fish your phone from out of your pack. There’s a part of you that still wants to ignore it, but you imagine your tantrum has gone on long enough and it’s time to answer. You tentatively tap on your Rotom Phone and watch the video turned on.

It was Leon. This shocked you a bit since the number was from Sonia’s phone. He wasn’t looking at the phone but at something off camera, like he wasn’t really expecting you to pick up. Which, fair.

“Hi.”

You honestly have no idea what else to say.

There’s a couple seconds of pause as Leon’s eyes slowly move towards the screen and presumably to your face.

“Oh my god.” The way he says your name twists your heart with guilt. He looks a bit ragged, but as you look at his surroundings, you can see that he’s indoors somewhere. As he shifts to sit up, you can make out that he’s probably in a hotel room, flopped down in bed with the TV on in the background, some trainer’s battle statistics being read off. He’s in some casual clothes instead of his jersey, but still has on his trusty snapback. “You’re alive, thank Arceus. You’re alive.”

You close your eyes, already feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

“Leon, I-”“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry. This was all my fault, please forgive me. Please. Please, I’m sorry.”

The distress in his voice almost startled you. The sincere desperation on his face is clear and unfiltered. A tremor spills through the palm holding your phone.

“No Leon, no. It was me. I’m the idiot here. I need to be the one apologizing.” Your nose sniffles, and the way your senses prickle tell you that tears will soon be on their way. You probably look miserable, and locking eyes with Leon is just making you feel like you’ve been acting like trash these past few days. “I’m so horrified at my behavior, and how I’ve acted. You must have been so worried.”

“I was, I thought, it would be all my fault if something happened to you.” From the sound of his voice, it sounds like Leon is beating you to the crying. “You didn’t answer, not even to yell at me, or tell me to leave you alone, so I couldn’t stop thinking of the worst.” Now come the tears, he doesn’t even pretend to hide them. This only prompted your own to run down your cheeks. “I can be such a bonehead, and insensitive to others, because I’m wrapped up in my own shit. And if you got hurt because I was being a jerk, I just don’t know what I would have done.”

The both of you trade apologies like this for a few more minutes through quiet sobbing. You’re sure the others could sense your emotion but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over.

“Leon, I promise, I’m okay. I only have a small injury and it’s healing well.”“…What? What happened?”

You recount your encounter with the Seismitoad. Leon cursed, and his golden eyes locked onto you fiercely. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

That sounded rather extra, but for some reason, you didn’t mind. You tried to smile through the ugly crying.

“I was lucky that I was saved by a kind stranger camping out in the Dappled Grove. He’s escorting me to Motostoke, I think I could be there by tomorrow.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, though you’re not sure why it is.

“Do you… feel safe, you know, with him?” Leon looks dead serious.

“My chastity remains unspoiled, dear knight.”

Leon turns red but maintains his serious demeanor. “I hate that you’re still out there. Maybe if I leave now-”“No, Leon, don’t. I know you probably have important champion stuff to be doing. Don’t waste time on me because I’ve been acting like a brat.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. Well, at least, you’re not a waste of time to me.” He cracks a bit of a smirk for the first time this entire call. “Though yeah you’re a brat for all you’ve put me and Sonia through.”

“I deserve that.” Your hand rubs at your face, trying to clear away some of the tears. “I owe you both a big apology. Letting me camp with you all and then just running off like that.”

“Hey, all that matters is that you’re safe.”

Leon’s attention suddenly shifts away from the phone, and he beckons someone over. Sonia’s face squeezes into frame and she immediately starts crying, which makes you cry all over again too.

“We were so worried about you! God I was terrified thinking of you out there all by yourself.” She managed through her tears. “You’re grounded, under house arrest, in detention. I don’t want you missing ever again! This is what happens when I leave you with Leon.”

“H-hey, I was worried too!” The two bicker some, and you all begin to break down into soft giggles, sniffles, and hiccups.

“I promise not to do this ever again. If you all want to send me back to Postwick though, I don’t blame you, I deserve it.”

“Don’t say things like that. We promised to go on an adventure together remember?”

You smiled, remembering your time in Wedgehurst with Sonia.

“I-I want to come on the adventure too…” Leon was pouting.

“When I get to Motostoke, I owe you both apologies, and explanations.” You look down, dreading it but knowing it’s the right thing to do. “You both have been so kind, and are basically my anchor here.” A yawn escapes from your mouth. “I should be in Motostoke tomorrow, don’t worry about me if you both are busy with things.”

Sonia wrestles her phone from Leon’s grasp. “Just keep us updated, okay? We’re staying in the Budew Hotel, but if you make it in time, you can watch Hop and Gloria participate in the opening ceremony!”

Nodding, you tell yourself that tomorrow has to be a hustle so you can make it in time. “It’s a promise.”

You hear Leon mutter something off to the side which catches Sonia’s attention, making her snicker. “The Great Unbeatable Champion Leon has a request~” She deftly dodges a pillow being thrown at her from off-camera. “And really, me too, because I want him to leave my phone alone: can I pass along your number to Leon?”

It seems like not all of the of the calls and texts you got were from Sonia after all. You nod with a small smile. You’re glad that this seems mostly like water under the bridge, though you are still a bit embarrassed about how silly you’ve been acting.

Shifting a bit, you realize that you’ve barely touched your dinner. “Okay, I’m going to go. I can’t wait to see you two tomorrow!”

Leon nudged into the camera frame as they both gave their goodbyes, and soon the call was over. You couldn’t help but give one long exhale, trying to relieve all the tension you’ve been holding in your body. It wasn’t even seconds after you put your phone away that Wooloo, Yamper, and Pancham ran over and pressed into you.

“Aww you guys. Thank you.” You tried to hug them all at once, and saw Milo coming over, chuckling.

“Sorry, I tried to keep ‘em at bay to give you some space.” He extended his hand to help you up from the Pokemon pile that wiggled on top of you. His grip encircled yours, warm.

You picked up your plate of food and returned to the rest around the fire, sitting next to Milo. Your Wooloo nestled against your side as your other Pokemon began to huddle together for warmth and comfort.

“Apologies for taking so long, didn’t mean to ignore you.” You begin to eat your curry. “How’s dinner?”

“Amazin’, you have a good touch for cookin’! The Pokemon were very pleased.”

“And how about you?”

He blinks a few times. “I m-mean, of course I loved it…”It takes all your strength to not smirk or laugh, to not give away how you said that on purpose just to get a reaction from Milo. “I’m glad, I wanted you to feel how grateful I am that you’re as kind as you are.” You look over to him, and even though the only light is coming from the campfire, it’s not hard to see he’s blushing. “I’ve caused you trouble, and I just want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

Milo stammers out some words that you can’t really understand, but you just smile and continue eating as he works through his awkwardness. Guy has to learn to take a compliment, you know?

“Y-you’re welcome though!!” He eventually spits out, desperately scooping at his empty plate trying to seem like he was concentrating on eating still. You hear the telltale giggling of his Pokemon around him. “You guys, s-stop!”

Cracking a smile, you collect all the dinnerware and head down to the lake to wash everything. The moon is covered by clouds, but some of its light shimmers on the surface of the water. The conversation with Sonia and Leon replays through your mind as you wipe off the remnants of dinner. It was surprising that they didn’t tell you off or make you to go home to Postwick. It showed that you were ready to give up when others believed in you. And you needed to see this through, mainly for your own personal growth, but also to respect the time and energy other put into you.

Returning to camp, you come to an almost domestic scene of all your Pokemon and Pancham just huddled in one cute heap and Milo nearby petting Wooloo with one hand while he checks his phone with the other. Sensing your emotions, your Rotom Phone zips out of your pocket and snaps a picture. The camera shutter sound and your subsequent scolding of Rotom alerts Milo to your presence.

“Thanks for takin’ care of the dishes! I feel spoiled.”

“Good.” You smile, hoping Milo doesn’t bring up the fact that your Rotom creeped on him, and set the plates and such into his tent. “Though I bet you’re ready for me to get out of your hair by now I’m sure.”

“Not at all.” He checks the time on his phone. “But if we’re gonna make it to Motostoke before the openin’ ceremony, we should probably hit the hay soon and get up early.” He stretched and yawned, with Wooloo whining a little from the loss of contact.

The both of you rustle around preparing for bed, Milo inside his tent and you rolling out your sleeping bag by the campfire. You’re about to douse the fire when Milo calls for your attention, his head poking out from his tent.

“You’re sleepin’ outside? Aren’t you chilly out here?” He sounds concerned, which makes you feel something all over.

“I imagine you want your tent back to yourself. Plus I got this big pile of Pokemon to keep me warm.” All of your Pokemon are out except for Vanillite, who returned to their Pokeball after no one wanted to cuddle with below freezing body temperatures, with Pancham taking their place. However you would be lying if a reason you decided to stay outside was out of respect for Milo’s relationship with Nessa.

Milo’s brow is furrowed and it seems like there’s a battle going on in his head. “Okay, only if you’re sure…” He pauses. “I really don’t mind i-if y-you…” His voice trails off and you take it as him trying to be polite.

“Don’t worry, you deserve a night off from babysitting me. I can handle this.” …you think.

He eventually accepts your answer, not one to push, and eventually wishes you good night before slipping back inside his tent. You douse the fire and crawl into your sleeping bag, and the Pokemon promptly huddle into the various nooks your body makes sleeping on your side. Turns out having cuddly Pokemon has its practical benefits too. Your eyes were about to close when you heard your phone buzz.

Rotom apologized noting the timing, but you see a text from an unfamiliar Galarian number, and upon opening the message realize it’s Leon.

Hi its Leon! Just texting you so you have my number

You smile, starting to feel a sense of normalcy after all the events in the Wild Area.

thanks~ looking forward to reuniting tomorrow <3

Moving to slip your phone back into a bag pocket, you pause when it vibrates again. You turn the screen towards you and see Leon has already replied.

I can’t wait I don’t think I’ll be able to sit still until I see you with my own eyes

So much for ‘just’ texting you for saving his number. A part of you admits that you’re a little happy though.

definitely hustling over to Motostoke, planning on waking up early and everything! will you be busy doing things for the ceremony tomorrow?

Your eyes close for only a moment before you get another text from Leon.

Well yes I mean I am the Champion after all ;)

You snort at him capitalizing champion, stirring your Yamper from her sleep for a second before you pet her back into slumber.

Pardon me, your Highness. i come from a land without royalty

Pancham wiggles around in the space behind your knees before breathing out a satisfied sigh.

PLEASE don’t call me that lol sorry I keep forgetting you dont know much about sports

You roll your eyes a bit.

then do enlighten me, Mr. Unbeatable Champion Sir ;)

The screen lights up with an immediate “STOP” text from him, making you giggle. Wooloo bleats a soft noise of concern into your chest, and promptly goes back to sleep when nothing seems wrong.

Nooooo you’re killing me dooooont :( one thing I like about you is that you treat me like a normal human being not like the Champion

You’re not sure if you should read into that text or not.

But anyway I can sneak away whenever Charizard can show me to the city gates. So make sure to text me as you’re arriving and I can meet you!!!! :D

Looks like Charizard is going to be the one guiding you around Motostoke then.

sounds like a plan! see you tomorrow then~

Leon wishes you a good night, and you finally tuck Rotom into your bag. Closing your eyes, you can’t help but think of how normal that felt. Being out in the Wild Area has really pushed you out of your element, a scary place in a strange region. You’ve never really camped before and now you’ve just spent three days in the wilderness. And now that’s you’re recovering from a near-death experience, it’s time to leave the Wild Area for the rest of your days.

Just as you were about to drift off, you heard the unzipping of Milo’s tent, followed by footsteps and the shuffling of some material against fabric. Your eyes open and head turns as the Pokemon resting against your body shift in response to what they are sensing. It’s almost pitch black, but the light from a Rotom Phone shows someone is lying a sleeping bag down near you.

“…Milo…?”

His silhouette pauses before continuing to slide into his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

You turn your body so you’re completely facing him. The Pokemon grumble when they are disturbed, and now congregate in-between Milo and yourself, with Wooloo shamelessly pressing into Milo’s chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“It just didn’t feel right lettin’ you sleep out here all by yourself.”

You’re thankful for the cover of darkness, since you definitely have an embarrassed smile on your face.

“Oh, you don’t have to do this really, I got the Pokemon out here with me.”

“I can leave if it makes ya uncomfortable-”

“No!”

You say a little too quickly and loudly, enough to startle some of your Pokemon.

“I mean… I like that you’re here, and selfishly want you to stay, I just don’t want you inconveniencing yourself on my behalf even more than you already have… Arceus, I’m talking too much.”

You desperately wish you could read his expression through the dark, but you think you hear a light chuckle.

“I want to be here too. Sounds like everythin’s alright then.”

It feels like you should just fall asleep at that, but also, it seems like the right time to chat a little more.

“Looks like Wooloo’s happy. We might have to do joint custody at this rate.”

You can hear Wooloo’s wool being pet, and the Pokemon letting out a pleased sigh.

“He definitely would make all my other Wooloo jealous. I wonder if they’ll play well with him.”

“We’ll have to find out when I visit.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and you yawn a little.

“I’ll miss your company until then.”

Milo seems to shift around in his sleeping bag a bit in response to that.

“…r-really now? Sounds like you have good friends waitin’ for ya…”

You hum a bit as your eyes feel heavier. It’s true, you are about to re-enter the whirlwind that is Leon and Sonia. But there is something about this man in front of you that makes you feel a different way. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but that’s why you wish you could spend more time with him.

“Yeah but I want to spend more time with you.”

Your thoughts are getting a bit hazy and running into your words as physical and emotional exhaustion begin to overtake you.

“You make me… feel different…”

If Milo responded, you’ve fallen too deep into sleep to hear it.

#milo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield imagines #pokemon milo imagines #pokemon milo #pokemon swsh imagines #fanfiction #a bundle of yarrow #fic

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anthropwashere · 3 years

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deadfic: our indestructible days ch 1

More deadfic for the Good Intentions WIP Fest, though since the event’s over I’ll spare the poor mod yet more of my horseshit.

This was, in fact, the first fic I really tackled post 2017 BH watch! And boy does it show. I’m doing y’all a favor by editing it to hell and back before posting any of it, honest. Due to that however, I don’t know how many chapters there will be. At least 4, since that’s as far as I’ve gotten in the editing process. We shall see!

All you need to know for this one is: What if Kimblee didn’t stop Pride from possessing Ed on the Promised Day? :)

Title comes from Puscifer’s “Dear Brother.”

The air burns against his flaking skin, molten stone growing dark yet still radiating a dangerous heat. Everyone else has gone after Father, the rattle and scrape of transmuted stone fading. It's just the two of them now, the alchemist and the homunculus, and Pride has the upper hand.

“This container won’t last much longer,” he says matter-of-factly, leaping down to stand before the boy. In the dusty sunlight filtering in from above Edward Elric’s eyes shine, catlike and calculating. His breathing is ragged, spit between clenched teeth. He’s pinned by cords of unyielding shadow. If he struggles much harder, Pride might break something.

That thought demands brief consideration. It would be satisfying to take Edward apart bone by brittle bone, to take his pound of flesh for the damage incurred to his Philosopher’s Stone. The left arm would sever easily, if he but sharpened his shadows. Tempting, yes, but ultimately pointless.

“But still,” he continues thoughtfully, a new plan already fallen into place. “Like my father is, you are of Hohenheim's bloodline. We’re virtually brothers. Which means, Edward Elric, I can use your container. Your body belongs to me!”

It is an easy thing to invade the bloodstream, entering through a thin cut on the boy’s cheek. Pride fills every vein and artery with shadows until Edward’s heart is smothered, his blood sludge. He ignores the screams, the uptick in thrashing. This is tricky work, something only achieved twice before, and he hadn't seen either success firsthand. His Stone is too big for such a little cut. He spares a tendril of himself to stab the boy's chest, wrenching open a wound big enough to deposit his core directly against the thrashing heart within. Connective tissue regrows at a breakneck pace, sewing him irrevocably into a body a thousand times more complex than his original container.

With that taken care of Pride lashes out with a snap of white teeth, unfettering the strangled soul. The body still writhes, pain a thing of the flesh rather than the spirit, but there is less resistance after that. If it's lucky, the boy's soul will be absorbed into his Stone, its energy and knowledge assimilated, made useful. Then again it could simply burn up in the transference, an ember caught in a cold wind.

Either way, that which was called Edward Elric will no longer be a concern.

What a big fuss Wrath made of it, with his story of the man who became a homunculus who became King. A little pain suffered is nothing, when the alternative is death.

Edward’s screaming makes this all the sweeter.

Without its contents, his old container collapses to so much dust and an empty pile of clothing, and—

—ah.

There are memories, kept just beneath the surface of Edward’s dying panic. The mind is easy to parse when the soul is absent. Old night terrors, old horrors. Loneliness. What a childish thing to fear.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Waiting— dreading— the body’s rejection of him.

But it never comes. Barely a shudder of resistance, the only lash of alchemical reaction his Stone instinctively healing injuries the boy had incurred.

The silence after that's finished is a breathless, giddy surprise.

Pride tests his new container carefully, casting an unhappy glance at the automail arm he’s now saddled with. It’s an unpleasant weight, cold and heavy; the leg much the same. It'll take time he doesn't have to adjust to them. How pathetic, that humans must rely on machinery to recover from serious injury. Once he’s regained some of his strength he’ll have to do something about them.

Something shifts within him, a sensation not unlike vertigo stealing his breath. Pride hesitates, wobbling on unfamiliar limbs, but the feeling passes. He smiles. A strong bloodline indeed.

“Fight all you wish,” he says aloud. “I've won.”

Even his voice has changed. His true voice is marred, pitched deeper. Weighed down. He is weighed down by this new container. It's strange. This is all very strange. But he must adjust quickly, for the battle isn’t won yet.

He shakes unfamiliar blond hair from his new container’s eyes, looking up through the hole punched through the many underground floors beneath Central Command. Four thin stone pillars ascend through it, stretching all the way up to the parade grounds. Such a distance. Even the sacrifices shouldn't have been capable of stretching so much material so high without it collapsing. What did they do? What was that array they activated that allowed them to perform alchemy again?

The fight has shifted. He must return to the fray, now that he’s been renewed. Father would—

Father expects him to—

No.

Not yet. He’s not strong enough to rejoin that fight, yet. His Stone was damaged even more than they’d anticipated when he forced Mustang through the Gate.

Pride sniffs, tasting the air. There are humans nearby; more souls to consume. He licks his lips and sends his grinning shadows upward.

He is hungry.

Major General Armstrong kneels beside the body of Führer King Bradley, hating that she's been sideline for what is surely the most decisive battle Amestris has ever seen. Her men are up there, where that pale creature had ascended only minutes ago atop a pillar of molten stone. Bullets and mortars were near useless against the lesser homunculi; what could their Father be capable of?

Her pulse is still racing, a sour taste settled in her mouth. She knows acutely what it feels like to die, and the experience has left her feeling hollowed out in a way she's unsure of how to voice. She remembers a maelstrom of suffering, countless voices begging for release. It's not something she'd wish on a Drachman, let alone endure again. If not for the Elric brothers' father she'd still be trapped in that hell. They all would be.

Is it fear that still makes her heart pound, or cowardice?

Her lip curls. Fear is justified. Fear is the intelligent reaction. To fear something means you're paying attention. Cowardice, however....

She shakes her head. Four of the human sacrifices—Izumi Curtis, Alphonse Elric, Van Hohenheim, and Mustang—had been afraid, and yet still determined to stop that monster. Even blinded Mustang hadn't hesitated to fight on, utilizing the famed Hawk's Eye to direct his flame attacks. It's both begrudging and gratifying, to realize the man has a stronger spine than she'd thought.

The fifth, Fullmetal, is still below fighting Pride. There'd been sounds of combat, and then screaming, but it's gone quiet now. The distance and echo distorting the sounds had made it impossible to determine who had been doing the screaming. The lot of them on this level have been keeping a wary eye on the hole in the floor since then. They don't know what that particular homunculus is capable of and the only alchemist left here is the serial killer Scar, and he's in no shape to assist. The idiot boy had better not die while the battle's still on.

She eases to her feet, hissing pain despite her best efforts, and cats her sight on the blue sky above. A single blast of power had punched a hole in this underground labyrinth clear through to the surface. How can they defend against something like that?

Bah. Defeatist's talk. The alchemists will do all they can to do just that, and her men will support them. They're Briggs men. They'll do whatever it—

"What the hell?!"

"What is that?!"

She turns sharply toward where the few soldiers who'd insisted on staying behind as a protection detail are gathered. They've all drawn their weapons, aiming at the hole in the floor. Ribbons of—shadows—stretch up from below, splitting open to reveal red eyes and white jaws.

Damn! And here she'd thought Fullmetal had been left behind to fight the homunculus alone for good reason! Was the boy really so useless as to die now?

"PREPARE YOURSELVES!" She bellows, striding toward the lashing shadows. A glance is all she needs to know it would be futile to try and keep distance in a room as small as this. Better to be with her men. She may have lost the use of her sword arm but this is a fight she will not—cannot—leave for her men to fight alone. "Fire at Selim Bradley the moment he shows himself!"

The red eyes narrow. The white jaws grin. Grating laughter echoes off of the stone walls. "That container has been discarded, Major General," the mouths all say in the same mocking voice. "But are you really going to risk injuring this body?"

From out of the depths a figure rises, lifted up on tendrils of shadow to step lightly onto the rubble-strewn floor. Her men curse, guns dipping. Somewhere behind her Mr. Curtis and the frog chimera inhale sharply. She can't blame any of them.

The grinning boy with living shadows curling at his boots is Fullmetal.

"Edward," Izumi's husband says, hushed. The boy pays him no mind, eyes flat and cold as coins.

"It was wise of you to stay behind," Fullmetal—no, Pride—says, still smiling. The shadows stretch and curl, painting the room in streaks of black. "Your contributions to the war effort are greatly appreciated."

Too late, she understands what he means to do. "No! Don't you dare—!"

The shadows strike, and her men begin to scream.

"Edward Elric."

His name whispered out of the murk. A voice calling him awake. He can't pinpoint where it's coming from. Everything else is so loud. There are so many people nearby, all of them screaming, all of them begging to die. Everything is so red.

"Fullmetal."

He tries to put a name to the voice. He knows it. Doesn't he know it?

Fraying. He's being... stretched. Pulled apart. Losing his sense of self.

He's losing himself.

"Surely you're not going to roll over as easily as that, are you?"

He... he knows this voice.

A pinpoint of white, searing amongst all this writhing red. The shape of a man comes into focus. White clothes, long dark hair, the wide eyes of a madman, tattoos on his outstretched palms.

"K...Kim...blee...?"

The man smiles. "Ah, so you are still in there. Good, very good."

"Where... what is... this...?"

"We've both become a part of Pride's Philosopher's Stone now. Two souls clinging to our individuality amidst a howling mob of anguish." Kimblee rocks back on his heels, throwing out his hands. His face is a picture of bliss. "Isn't it exquisite?"

He looks away, out at the writhing, the screaming. Nothing but gaping mouths and dark eye sockets everywhere he looks, the barest suggestions of human shapes. Souls. How many died to make this Stone? "It's—loud. No. No, this. This isn't. This isn't what I...."

It's getting so hard to think.

Kimblee looks almost disappointed now. "Tell me, Edward Elric. Are you truly so weak as this? Unraveling at the first glimpse of something beyond your control?"

He looks down at himself. Two arms, two legs. No automail pulling insistently at his bones. Of course not. He's only a soul, nearly as red as the others twisting all around him. He's inside a Philosopher's Stone, which makes him only one more lost soul. Wisps of red peel from his limbs, chafed and scraped away by the chaos pushing and pulling at him from all sides. He's falling apart. Losing himself. Soon he'll be nothing but babbling energy, regenerative power for the homunculus he's become a part of. For... for....

"Pride."

Kimblee raises one curious eyebrow. "That's right."

"Where—Where is he?"

"A bit preoccupied eating to overhear this conversation, if that's your concern."

He—Edward, he's Ed, gotta stay focused, he can't slip again, his name is Edward—strains, struggling to remember what happened. How he came to be like this. He was.... There had been.... Pride. Selim had been badly—injured? damaged?—after forcing the Colonel through the Gate. His container was failing. He'd pinned Ed down—pain, it had hurt—and declared that Ed would be... that Ed's body would be....

Ed's just a soul now. He doesn't have a body, no skin to prickle and no breath to catch, but a chill runs through him all the same. "He. He took my body. He made me his new container. Didn't he?"

"That's right."

No matter where Ed looks it's all souls, no glimpse of what's going on outside this Stone. Ling—and Greed, for that matter—have always had a good idea of what was going on when the other one had been in control of Ling's body. How did they—

Hold on.

Ed looks back at Kimblee, who just smiles pleasantly back. Eating. Pride can't hear them right now because he's eating. The hell does that mean?

"I can't see," Ed snaps, shoving at a soul that's drifted uncomfortably close. His hand is paler, more defined than it was before. He's got a good grip on himself again. He really should've paid more attention when Ling talked about the meditation shit he did while Greed was refusing to share. "Ugh. Where is he? What's he doing, Kimblee?"

Kimblee chuckles and waves his hand. The tempest of screaming parts like a theater curtain; bright light spills in that leaves Ed blinking and shading his eyes. He goes to it anyway. He has to know what Kimblee meant—

His sight adjusts, and he's looking at a bloodbath.

There's red sprayed across the near wall, splashed along the floor, drips and splatters and scraps of tattered uniforms everywhere he looks. A single soldier is in view, firing wildly right at Ed only to have the bullets deflected by a shadow pitted with familiar eyes and bloodstained fangs. The gun in the soldier's hands clicks, the clip emptied, and the shadow cuts him down. Ed can hear the brutal crunch of bone, the muted spurt of spilled blood, the ragged tearing of meat. He hears someone laughing. His voice. His stolen voice multiplied weirdly through the shadow mouths as Selim's had been.

Ed hollers, twisting away, but Kimblee's white hands hold him fast. The man's voice roars out, ragged with terrible glee. "Don't avert your eyes! Don't look away! That's your body out there, cutting those men down. Take credit for the destruction your hands have wrought!"

"NO! NO! That's not—it's not me—get the fuck off—I don't want this!"

"Then what are you going to do about it?!"

"—no, no, I don't—I—w-what?"

Once Ed's stopped struggling Kimblee all but drops him, still grinning from ear to ear. "I thought about interfering, when Pride first tried to take your body for himself."

"What?"

"I'm perfectly content in here, but he decided to throw away his honor as a homunculus. So proud to be what he is, that very quality he was named for, but the moment he found himself in grave danger he sought to escape into the body of a human." Kimblee snarls. "He's pathetic. A disgrace."

Ed watches his body's left hand rise, pointing at—Major General Armstrong? Her face is a mask of blood, and the rest of her isn't much better. Sig's beside her, one arm slick and hanging heavily, the other supporting Scar who looks like he narrowly escaped a meat grinder. Behind them he can just glimpse Jerso in his frog form, lying so still it's impossible to tell if he's still breathing. The window or whatever out into the real world flickers as—fuck—as Pride looks at another soldier spring out from behind cover. He empties his clip in record time, unerringly aimed at Ed's chest. Do any of the bullets hit? Do they hurt? The soldier's cradling his rifle strangely, one hand clumsily wrapped in bloodstained cloth.

"Why?" Ed asks, weary. A shadow arcs out, bristling with teeth, and bites through the man. He goes down with a bizarrely muted scream and another spray of blood. "Why didn't you stop him? This—this wouldn't be happening if you'd stopped him!"

Kimblee regards him, eyes narrowed, face unreadable. "Führer Bradley is a homunculus," he says conversationally. "And Greed. His vessel is human as well, isn't it?"

Outside, sounds of crunching, splattering, chewing. Ed watches a clean white uniform stain almost black with gore. "Yeah? So what?"

"I started to think a little, that's what." Another little chuckle. Fuck, this guy really is crazy. He's enjoying this. "The homunculi make such a fuss out of being better than humans. More evolved, above our petty fears and desires. They're so proud to be the puppeteers of this country, the hands on our yokes as they've guided us to this Promised day."

Ed watches the shadows finish off the soldier, nothing but a smear of blood and a couple glistening pieces of meat left behind. The window flickers again as Pride turns his head to regard the last of the survivors.

"It's funny," Kimblee says. "For how much they talk, they so rarely deliver on their promises. So I ask you, Edward Elric. What are you going to do now?"

The General. Sig. Jerso. Scar. They're going to die. Pride's going to kill them. For all Ed knows they might think he agreed to let Pride take his body.

He looks at his hands. He's nearly himself again, or at least as nearly like himself as he can be without his body. He's got two arms here. Two legs too. An arm and a leg, and a body, and the whole damn country on top of it now. He's made way too many promises to fail here.

Ed sets his jaw and leaps out into the light.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #my writing #murder #cannibalism #body horror #you know what i'm about at this point lbr

21 notes · View notes

eugenesmorphine · 3 years

Note

Hi, could you write something about ack ack? Anything but fluff

Yours Truly // Andrew “Ack-Ack” Haldane Imagine

AN: I want to let you know that this is angst. It talks about death and some blood so this is your warning. I worked hard on this Imagine so I hope you all enjoy :)

Words: 5,149

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @punkgeekchic @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

Y/N hummed as she walked throughout the rainy, muddy land of Peleliu. She managed to snag a spare apple from chow. A rare occurrence and a new luxury amongst them all. And she managed to not only snag one, but one for her fellow officers. Maybe it wasn’t the best of her as a Lieutenant. Snagging some extra food beside giving it to her men. But she had gone without eating for a bit. Giving her meals to some privates who were less fortunate. So grabbing three apples for her and her two fellow officers in command wouldn’t be all too bad.

Crunching down on her apple as she approached Captain Haldane and Hillbilly Jones. Smiling at the men as she chewed down on the fruit. It didn’t taste like the ones she ate back in the states. But compared to the maggot filled rice they had been eating, it was a little slice of Heaven. “What is up, boys?” she asked softly. Pulling her weapon off from her shoulder and setting it onto her lap as she sat on a rock. Jones and Haldane turned and smiled softly at the girl. The two always viewed the female as a little sister almost. But, to Haldane, she seemed to mean a bit more than that.

When Lieutenant L/N first showed up as the first female Marine officer to see combat like no other, she was viewed immediately as a weaker target. In that time, women weren't viewed as strong supports for much. But Y/N was so different. She walked with her head held high. Her weapon tightly in her grasp. She took no shit from anyone. Y/N L/N was a woman of class, yet she knew how to lead these men. She was able to earn the Marine’s respect. It attracted Andrew Haldane. He respected her from the moment her boots hit the mud of Peleliu. He yearned to know more. And of course as they were in command. Like how Haldane and Jones grew close, the two accepted Y/N into the group. And that is where Haldane and Y/N blossomed.

“Hey, Lieutenant. What you got for us this time?” Andrew asked. Leaning against some sort of oil drum. Smiling at the female as his trusty Lieutenant Jones approached his side. Smiling at the female. Grinning back, she took her helmet off for a moment and set it to the side. Digging her hand into her Marine issued trousers and pulled out the two apples. They were just a normal green, Granny Smith apple. Slightly bruised, and not the biggest. Haldane’s and Jones’ eyes narrowed at the apples. They were sure they wouldn’t get one because they let the other have them. Their men came first. Always.

“I know rations and food has been more and more scarce recently. But I snagged these for us. Actually, the cook saved them for me. Said that we deserved them since he noticed we hadn’t been in line for chow yesterday or the day before. Nice boy, really. Said we needed to get our strength up for fighting the Japs!” she explained. Hopping off the rock she sat on. Slinging her weapon back over her shoulder. She never went anywhere without her rifle. Approaching the boys and placing the apples in each of their hands. Grabbing her partially eaten apple and taking a nice bite out of it. The juices dripped down her chin messily as she wiped them away with her sleeve. Causing a chuckle to be released from both her fellow officer’s lips.

“Thanks, L/N. I’d swear I’d die of starvation without you,” Hillbilly said softly as he rustled the woman’s hair. Sometimes a break from the war to just sit and joke was needed. It gave a sense of clarity. That maybe the war would end sometime. It was just a thought but man could they dream of it. Y/N grunted and pulled away.

“Aye, Hillbilly! I already look a mess enough with this mop of hair on my head. What I would do to wash it just once,” she chuckled. Giving the Lieutenant a playful punch on the shoulder. Andrew just watched. A small smile danced across his lips as he did so. She was gorgeous in his eyes.

The Captain had grown fond of the woman but just kept it to himself. Not even bringing it up to Jones. He knew war wasn’t a time for love and passion. No distractions were needed of him. But no matter what, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for the female Marine within combat. Needing to know she was safe. And when he realized his own doings he cursed to himself. He fell for a woman in the worst time ever. And the worst part was, he knew she felt the same.

The two had shared smokes. Had deep conversations on watch. And it wasn’t until she had kissed him once night when no one was around, that is when he knew. He remembered that shit eating grin on her face as she pulled away. Taking the smoke right out of his lips and placing it between hers. And when he asked why she did it, she just shrugged. “When you work in a field such as this, surrounded by men who always think down on you. You learn to take what you want. Be assertive, Show you are in charge,” her face steadied as she looked down for a moment. Looking back up at Andrew with a soft smile on her face. “And I guess I wanted you, sir,” she said. Not a day went by where Haldane didn’t think of that night. It was a night he’d never forget, nor ever share. That was their moment, and their moment only. It was going to stay that way.

“As much as I’d love to stay and eat apples all day with you two, we got a briefing for the next attack for tomorrow. We better get going if we want to make it on time,” Haldane said to the two. Biting into his apple and chewing slightly. The two other officers nodded and began to make their way to the briefing area. Andrew watched Y/N joked around with Hillbilly. The same smile rested on his lips. He hated the thoughts and future he wanted of that woman. She was like venom that flowed throughout his veins. An addiction. Haldane had a taste of her, and now he was left chasing after more. He kicked himself for it. But he just couldn’t help himself almost.

///

It was early in the morning when the Japanese’s mortars boomed and exploded throughout the muddy fields of battle. Y/N and Haldane sat in a small foxhole, their backs pressed up against the dry dirt and rocks of the airfield. Pinging a few Japanese when she could, strings of curses left her lips as she looked at her Captain. That same shit eating grin came to her lips. “Hey, sir! How about if we do survive this shithole, why don’t we get married back in the states?” she yelled over the sounds of bursting mortar shells and the gunshots of the Japanese Army whizzing right past them. Ack-Ack wanted to turn and yell at her. Tell her to think of the mission at hand. He turned sharply to look at her, his eyes falling onto hers. He couldn’t help but smile. Why was he smiling? He had no idea. It was like she had taken him into a trance. The war seemed to fade out of his ears as he gave her a nod.

“Of course, Lieutenant. You got yourself a deal,” he told her. His voice was smooth and calm. Little did he know, Y/N said it because she knew she wouldn’t make it all that long. In that moment they shared, Y/N turned to Ack-Ack, a look of calm spread across her face. She had her head on straight. Another quality that many didn’t have in an active war zone. It was almost like the screams of comrades being blown to pieces and shot to bits weren’t even there. Andrew needed to stand. Needed to lead his men. But yet he was nailed down by her smile. Her eyes darted and danced with traces of love.

“Andrew Haldane, I can happily say I am more than in love with you. If I am to die during this war and not be able to make it home to truly be yours. Just know, my heart stays with you. As it is where it wants to belong,” she said to him. Grabbing at the sides of his face and pressing her lips against his. The sweat and mud that dripped down their faces collided as she sat there like that for less than ten seconds. But it felt like an eternity that they never wanted to end.

When Y/N pulled away she straightened her back and stood up. Her head dipped won to avoid fire. With one last soft smile given towards the man she just admitted her love to. Andrew sat there for a second, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Y/N called out to her Marines and led the charge. She was a goddess that walked amongst the combat field. He stood and peered over the edge of the dune. It was almost like the bullets and the mortar blasts were afraid of her as she ran through the air field.

Grabbing his weapon. Andrew ran. His eyes stayed on Y/N the entire time. God he wanted to stop searching for her. Keeping his mind on the mission and the rest of the men. But he just couldn’t stop his feelings from taking over his mind. He hadn’t even realized Hillbilly running about three feet to the right of him. Dodging and weaving through the consistent fire from the enemy.

“Captain Haldane! The Japs are already being pushed back! We’ll take this place over no time, our armor is almost here and we’ll have it in the bag!” he yelled over the blasts. He took his eyes off of Y/N for a split second to turn and give a nod towards his second in command. But he wished he never did. His head turned back towards the female officer. And his eyes widened.

“Y/N!” he yelled. But there wasn’t anything else he could do. A mortar strike had hit the ground about two feet from her left leg. And with a loud percussion and the ground around her exploding, her body was thrown. And he watched in her horror as her left leg was torn completely from her upper thigh. “Holy shit.. Y/N!” his voice broke. He saw her body hit the ground. She landed flat on her back. Even from about twenty feet away, he could tell it just wasn’t good. Turning around to look at Hillbilly as he just saw one of his best friends and blown away by a damn mortar strike. The Lieutenant’s features were mortified. Sure men died every day and you couldn’t always expect that the next day was guaranteed. But when you create and share bonds with people, the pain is all too real.

Andrew froze at first to actually go and retrieve her. He would go to tell people that the reason for why he froze was because he needed to see if she was alive before he risked his life. To make sure it was even worth risking his life. But the real reason made him hang his head in shame almost. He was just too scared that he wouldn’t be prepared to see how she actually looked after a blow like that. From his years in the service, he knew after a strike like that, no one looked good. And Y/N wasn’t any exception sadly.

When Ack-Ack came to, all of the silenced sound of the battlefield came back as well. His ears rang as he made his way to Y/N. Hillbilly was tailing behind him briskly. Their boots hit the dry dirt roughly as they ran. Andrew of course reached the fallen woman first. Her helmet was god knows where, face splattered in her own blood. Her left leg was completely gone, nowhere in sight around them. Pieces of shrapnel digging in all over her body. It wasn’t a good sight. And Andrew knew deep down there probably wasn’t going to be a positive ending for her. War wasn’t about happy endings. It wasn’t some fairytale with princesses. It was real life. With real death. And real consequences from real problems. But Andrew knew he had to at least try? When in reality, he would curse to himself later as he realized he had wasted supplies. But he only did that to try to ignore the real pain he felt.

He stared down at the female. She was still breathing, but her chest rose only slightly and slowly. He knew she wasn’t doing too hot. Dipping down to scoop her up in the bridal style carry he tapped the sides of her face. “Come on, come on,” he mumbled. Turning towards Hillbilly, who was squatted down behind cover just watching them. Pressing his lips together he grunted as he tightened his grip on the woman’s arms. She was bleeding out, but he had nothing to even attempt to stop the bleeding from her leg, or the wounds that now show from her stomach. A piece of shrapnel had sliced deep into her skin. Blood seeping from her stomach and staining the cloth of her Marine uniform. “Jones! Make your way towards the front line. I need to find a Corpsman!” He yelled. Hillbilly just nodded and took off.

Andrew wasted no time. He ran. Screaming out for a Corpsman as loud as he could. Glancing down at Y/N every so often while he ran cover to cover. Her skin grew paler and paler as her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Then closed once again. Her breathing seemed to slow each and every second that flew by. Holding onto her tightly. The Captain muttered prayers beneath his breath, he never usually did as an adult. He would do it as a child when he was most worried or scared. But as he ran, and between calls for a Corpsman, he prayed.

After a while of moving cover to cover, a Corpsman jumped next to him. “Sir, set her down and I’ll take good care of her. You need to move forward with the rest of the men!” he yelled. His hand on his helmet as he kept his head below any of the gunshots. Andrew stared at him for a few moments before setting her down gently. Staring down at her as she grunted in pain. Running a hand through her hair softly before pressing his lips to her forehead. He didn’t know why he even did it. In front of the Corpsman too. His body just made him do it.

“Take care of her,” he told the young man. Who was already tying off the wound on her stomach. While placing a tourniquet onto her upper thigh in attempts to cut the bleeding off from her missing leg. Taking one final glance at the woman, he swore he saw her lips turn up into a smile just for a second. But he played it off as he was just imagining it. Giving the man a final nod before standing and making his way to the rallying point. Gulping slightly as he ran. Using all of his power to put into his legs for running. The images of Y/N flashing in his mind. He didn’t know why, but it wouldn’t stop. Her smile. Her laugh. Just yesterday when she was biting into her apple. It was crazy what could happen in such a short time. The feeling of her lips on his came back to his lips. Like a phantom feeling. His fingers coming to his own lips to graze over them. Huffing as he placed his hand back onto his weapon. Narrowing his eyes as he kept running. Knowing the faster they all moved forward. The more of the airfield they were taking. And that meant he could see Y/N and see if she was okay. But deep down. He already knew the answer. Yet he just ignored it and played in a false reality of hope and future dreams. The same false reality he told himself he would never get in. But yet, emotions are the devil and Andrew Haldane learned this first hand.

///

After what seemed for hours of constant fighting, the airfield was taken over by our Marines. Haldane panted as he jogged towards Hillbilly. Looking up at the tall Lieutenant. Wiping the sweat off his brow as he looked around. “Jones, where are the wounded. Have you seen Y/N?” he asked. Hillbilly Jones sat quiet. Pressing his lips into a thin line as he turned to look away.

“Ack-Ack, I..” he started. Haldane knew. But he just needed to see her. He gave a hard stare at Hillbilly and chewed on the skin of his bottom lip. To which Jones just nodded. “I’ll show you where she is. I just don’t think I can stay there with you. I can’t see her like that no more,” he said softly as he turned and began to make his way where groups of bodies lay. He didn’t blame his second hand man.. Y/N grew to be one of his best friends. Two peas in a pod. He just kept quiet as he made his way along behind Jones. His mind knew well enough that Y/N wasn’t going to be there to smile at him. But god, in his mind she was going to just be there. Looking over the bodies.

When the two officers in charge reached the bodies that were all in a line and laying on cots. A Chaplain and Corpsman walked amongst them. Removing the blankets that covered their faces and removed their dog tags. Yet when the Chaplain saw the officers, his face narrowed. He already knew why they were actually there and who they were there to see. Giving them a nod and standing. “Right this way,” was all he said as he made his way to a lone cot with a body that had the same dark green blanket that was the same as the others. See that's the problem Andrew Haldane had. She was just another Marine. So many died every single day, so this shouldn’t have meant as much as it did. But yet, he felt this ache within his chest that seemed to be the same one he felt when he was alone most nights while the rest of the men were asleep in their foxholes. The nights where he thought about the men he had lost under his lead. But, when Y/N began to talk to him when she showed up, it just seemed to melt away. He didn’t even notice it. And as the world seemed to move in slow motion as he approached that lone cot, that same feeling returned after all this time. His feet felt heavy as his final steps reached the point in which he stood besides the blanket. He looked down and saw the familiar sticky, red substance that had soaked into the blanket right above where the left knee began, and traces of where the midsection was. He knew. Andrew knew right then and there. He knew all this time. Just his mind wouldn’t accept it.

The Chaplain stood behind the Captain and Lieutenant. Watching as they stared down at the body. “Here,” he said, slipping one of the dog tags he had removed from her set into the Captain’s hand. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to leave them be. Haldane and Jones stayed silent. Waiting to find the courage to pull back the blanket. They knew they needed to. But they just couldn’t.

Andrew’s hand tightened around the dog tag within hand. His thumb running of the engravings of her name. Beneath the pad of his thumb he could feel each letter that wrote out her name. Over and over his thumb ran over the letters. The image of her smiling stayed within his brain as he looked at where her head would be beneath the sheet. Taking a deep breath, he felt the dark feeling in his chest grow more. It felt more as a sharp pain within his lungs and his heart. But he didn’t feel tears within his eyes though. Just a strange empty feeling.

Gathering his bearings and thoughts, he squatted down and slowly grabbed onto the edge of the sheet. Gently and slowly pulling it back. First it was her hair. Her H/C hair that rested there. A mess like when she would wake up after sleeping. It was rare for her to do so, but when she woke up with a serious case of bedhead, Hillbilly was always there to tease her. And Andrew was always there to chuckle. And she always smiled.

Pausing for a short moment, he just pulled the sheet down to at least her lower stomach. He heard Edward take a sharp inhale. His eyes narrowed as he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. It looked as if Y/N was sleeping. Her face was as peaceful and as gentle as ever. It struck him in a cord he never thought he would have. Gulping as he took a moment to look down and stare at his boots and the mud. Taking a deep breath as he looked back at her.

“I.. I can’t do this sir, I’ve seen enough,” was all Ed Jones said as he turned and began to briskly walk away. Ack-Ack could hear his boots squish against some of the wet and also dry dirt. Leaving him alone.

His eyes rested on her closed lids. Then looking at her lips. The ends curled up into a soft smile. She went peacefully. That’s all he could think about. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, Y/N.. I know you said you wanted to live out this war and get married,” he paused to let out a sad chuckle. The tears now began to prick at his eyes as he pressed his lips together. “I wish we could’ve gone against this war together.. I knew this was war, and I told myself in the beginning that I wouldn’t have fallen for you. Enough of the younger men had done that enough themselves. But.. not everything goes as planned clearly,” after those words, he noticed one of her hands was draped over her chest. Noticing a piece of paper crammed into the holdings of her fingers. He looked a little closer and he noticed ‘Ack’ on one the creased folds. He looked across both sides and looked back down at her. Gently picking her hand up and slipping the paper out of her grasp and placing the paper into his pocket while placing her hand down back down. He shut his eyes for a moment as he grabbed the end of the sheet and gave her one last look. A tear slipping down his cheek as he found himself smiling. Leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead and then pulling away. “I’ll see you again one day, Y/N,” he said. One hand holding her dog tag and the other using the sheet to gently pull over her face once more. At first he almost sat there longer. No reason to. But deep down he just didn’t want to leave her. But pushing his feelings aside he stood up. Taking one last glance down to her before standing to begin his trek back to his sleeping quarters. Turning to take the final look and then turning back, wiping his eye with the back of his finger as he trudged along. Continuing to run his thumb over the one dog tag. Feeling the eyes of the Marines on him as he walked. Though he just looked onward as he only focused on getting to his sleeping quarters.

Finally, Andrew reached his sleeping quarters. Dropping himself onto his little and uncomfortable cot. He thought back to the times where the female Lieutenant would knock and walk in. And they would spend the night talking about god-knows-what and anything that would pop into their minds. Andrew chuckled to himself at the memory as he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled at the note. It felt like another quick and shallow jab when he saw the small finger prints of blood that had been stained on the note. But he shook his head slightly and kept going. Biting his bottom lip slightly as he unfolded the letter and began to look at the writing. His fingers grazing over the letters before even reading them over. Shutting his eyes for a moment and taking another deep breath. Opening his eyes, he began to read:

“My Dearest Ack-Ack,

You’re probably reading this letter because I met my unfortunate end on the battlefield. I wrote this letter a while back when I decided that you would probably see this. It was written and placed in my pocket where it stayed everyday. And the reason you are reading this, if this isn’t Captain Andrew Haldane, give this letter to him. Please. He needs to see these words.

The reason you probably found this in my hand is because I got the strength to pull it out of my head and rested finally with it within my grasp. But enough of that. Andrew from the first day I met you, I found you so handsome. It started off like a teenage girl crush. It sounds stupid as hell, I know. But watching you put yourself before these men alongside Hillbilly, or Edward I should say. I looked up to you. And I will forever. But after our late night talks and that night I kissed you, I didn’t know what came over me. I had fallen head over heels for you, Sir. Man was it stupid to fall in love during a war. Especially when an outcome like this. But I am sorry, Andrew. I fell for you and I couldn’t live with you after this shithole. I would’ve followed you anywhere and I still will, please know that. Live for me. I will see you again, I know I will. Like I told you that night way back when: I get what I want. And I want you and you to come back to me. I will love you forever. I know in life I was too scared to tell you those three words, but I can say it here. I love you and I always will. My heart belonged to you the moment I first shook hands with you and I felt my name fall out of your mouth. My heart is yours, it will stay that way for the rest of the eternity. I will see you again. And we will be surrounded by love. But live for me. Don’t stop and be that amazing leader you are. Fight this war for me. Make it end. I love you Andrew Haldane. Forever and always.

Yours always,

Y/N L/N”

Tears dripped down his face as Andrew had to set down the paper onto the side of the cot. A few sobs climbed up his throat and fell out of his lips. Ack-Ack never thought he would see himself crying over a woman like this. Let alone just a Marine. But Y/N wasn’t just a Marine. She was his heart. She was his soul. And he was more than pissed at himself for realizing this only now. Placing his face in his hands as he cried. War left no room for love. Just hate and sadness. Yet he found love. And he definitely found the hate and the sadness.

///

It had been about a week since Y/N’s death. Her letter stayed within his pocket at all times. Almost like one would keep prayer beads or a cross. He reread her letter each and every night. The pad of Andrew’s thumb grazing over the engraving of her name, date of birth, and blood type as he read. And now he was running through the muddy lands of Peleliu, pinned down by a sniper. Deep down he knew what was going to happen to him in order to protect his men. Smiling at Edward one last time and turning his back. Digging his hand in his pocket and grabbing a new note he had written himself. A personal one that he held close to his heart as he began to run. It wasn’t long when the deafening shots of the sniper’s trigger finger sounded off and the bullets digging through his chest.

Andrew fell. Gasping out for air as he knew his date was to come. But his mind was clear and the pain had numbed. A few tears slipped down the sides of his face as a small smile came to his lips as he gripped the letter he wrote to his chest. He would leave his men, but he would die from bravery. As a leader. He lived. He lived his life proudly and bravely. His eyes shut as he succumbed to the tired feeling that grew over him. His smile was soft and his head was clear. The letter on his chest remained protected from the rain from his hand that covered it. It read:

“My dearest Y/N L/N,

This letter is to you. I made this shortly after I read the letter you wrote for me. I know you’ll never read this. Or maybe you will. But I did it. I led these men to the best I could. I kept my word as I always did. I’m sorry I couldn’t live as long as you probably wanted me too. But I get to see you soon. In whatever Heaven there is. We will see each other again. And like you always said and what I believed from you. You wanted to see me again after all of this, and you wanted that. I know I will see you again. There I can tell you those three words we couldn’t tell each other. I love you. I didn’t know what it was till you were gone and I didn’t want to believe the feelings while you were alive. But now I can. I love you. My heart is yours. Forever and always. I’ll see you again, my dear.

Yours truly,

Andrew Haldane”

#the pacific imagine #the pacific #hbo #HBO Series #hbo imagine #hbo war imagines #hbo war #Andrew Haldane #Ack-Ack #andrew haldane imagine #the pacific headcanon

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writingawaymylife · 4 years

Text

Dance Around - Jump Forward Part IV - Finale

A/N: This bloody part has been through five revisions, countless energy drinks, and hours of Metallica editing sessions, but I finally think I’ve gotten it to a quality that it deserves - especially since it’s technically the ending of DAJF. I’m really grateful to everyone that has read this so far, I really appreciate the patience and support - it has literally made me so happy. Seeing the comments and people getting excited for it... Oof, it’s really made me so, so excited to write again. I really hope this is everything you guys hoped for, and maybe even a little more. K, I’ll let you get to it before I get soft and shed tears (gross). Love you all!

Ship: Higgs/Reader

DAJF Masterlist

Warnings: Near death experience (Higgs), swearing, a bit of soft served ice cream at the end.

_______

Everything he had ever built for himself was falling apart. One crumbling piece by crumbling piece, slowly turning to dust until there was nothing left in the ruins but remains of the one thing he had fought so hard for. He didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Resentment? Betrayal? Fear. That one he knew without a shadow of a doubt.

He hadn’t felt this in a long, long while. Not since his last conversation with…

Higgs looked down into the sand his knees were slowly sinking into. Mind fading out and away from the voices of that fucking bastard Sam and that bitch of a woman Fragile. He felt sick. Too many emotions that didn’t fit underneath the terms “happy”, “proud”, and “accomplished”. Even when he had so much power, even when all the odds pointed his way, he would never accomplish anything in this pathetic life, would he?

He was bound to be the failure. The loser in the Endgame. He was nothing more than a tiny blip in the fabric of time and space. He was nothing.

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Each breath felt like he was sucking in nothing. For the first time in years, he felt his eyes burn. His eyes closed, head bowing even more as he tried to get some semblance of poise. He couldn’t do this, not now. Not with Fragile and Sam a mere few feet away from him. But the reality still crept into his mind and held his heart in a vice grip.

This was his end. On a Beach, surrounded by dead, stinking fish and at the end of a gun, pointed by none other than Fragile. It wasn’t what he wanted - no, what he wanted was to be by Amelie’s side. Watching the world crumble and burn before the end dragged him down with it. He wanted to end knowing that he had some impact on this world and the next, that he had done something that was right. But, when looking back, he should have realized that it wasn’t in the cards for him.

What did he really accomplish? What was it that he did that would mean anything in the end? The lives he had taken would have been for nothing. All that effort to weave this pathetic tale with Amelie to use Sam, would be for nothing. Throwing away his entire life for a cause would be for nothing. Pushing away the one person that had ever wanted to be with him for him would be for nothing.

How naive he was. An incompetent, powerless, obtuse man. He should have known.

He should have seen this coming from a God-damned mile away.

In the end, it was (Y/N) that seemed to appear the most in his mind. As they had for the past couple weeks. It hurt to think about them, shame and anger accumulating and overflowing in ways that had made him a near ticking time bomb.

What would have happened if he had stayed with (Y/N)? Taken that chance to fix the mess he had made. Even if it terrified him to admit whatever he felt towards them, he had a chance to form a connection that wasn’t based on power and manipulation. They were safe. A serrated knife that was never used against him, even when they were tempted. They were a haven that gave him much-needed respite from the crumbling world outside of that small bunker.

They had risked everything in knowing and befriending him. If anyone had found out about (Y/N)’s connection to him, they would have been in a world of danger, their life ripped away from them in a blink of an eye, and they wouldn’t have been able to do a single thing about it. Yet they let him stay, let him carve himself a place in their life, and take up residence there. Then as soon as the both of them had begun to really become something, he ran away. Tore open a wound and left it there, untreated and bleeding. He couldn’t stop thinking about the shaky breath they had sucked in, the fear in their body and eyes when he had pressed he had appeared behind them, had threatened them. For most people, he didn’t care. But, in a disgustingly cheesy way that had Higgs’ upper lip lifting in disgust, (Y/N) wasn’t most people.

Higgs didn’t regret many of his actions in life. What happened, happened and there was nothing anyone could ever do to fix that. But if there was one thing that would weigh on his shoulders as the void took him, it would be how easily he had thrown out his relationship with them.

It was the sound of a magazine locking into place that brought him back to reality. Death, casting her shadow over him, ready to pounce. This wasn’t how he wanted it to end.

Higgs looked up. Eyes catching Fragile’s who were cold and calculating. She looked so unremorseful, and he could see there was a part of her that took pride in this. In knowing that the last face he’d see would be hers before he was filled with led. The roles had reversed, and now she was the one with the power.

“So. This is it, isn’t it? The end of the line.” His voice was steely and rough, not a single sway as he kept his vocal cords in control. He pushed through the pain, sitting up straight as his aching muscles protested with pulls and stings. In the end, it wouldn’t matter, his pain would be gone in a few moments. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that he was going down with as much dignity as he could have.

“I’m proud of you, for comin’ all this way for revenge. It seems that in the end we really did have something’ in common, didn’t we?” The butt of the gun was shoved into his face with just enough force to leave him light-headed and on the ground. Blood was filling up his mouth yet again, copper taste overriding his senses as he spit onto the sand below him. His chuckle sounded weak, even to his ears, but he forced the shaky, sore smile onto his face. A liquid, thick and warm and most definitely blood, was seeping from his forehead.

“You never know when to shut up, do you?” Her voice, just like her face, was flat. Any spark of emotion he had seen before was gone, there was nothing there. No hatred, no anger. Only cold, hard apathy.

He slowly got back onto his knees, digging his shoulder into the ground to help push him up, and fighting the grunt of pain that slipped from his lips. “Oh Honey, what else would you expect?”

The gun was turned in her hands. Stock pressed into her shoulder, and the barrel pointed in his face. Her head tilted, eyes narrowing just the slightest as she spoke. “Will those be your last words?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy and terrifying as he realized that this really was the end. ‘There’s no avoiding the inevitable’, as he always said, and, in the end, he knew that the idea would always extend to his death as well.

But he was never one for going with passive compliance. If he was going down, he would make sure he left a stain she would never be able to scrub off.

He sighed, shaky and thick, as he shook his head and looked up at her with narrowed eyes. A smile, sickly sweet and just as poisonous, crept onto his face.

“I hope ‘ya know that my blood will always be on your hands.”

Fragile seemed shocked, eyes widening slightly as she looked over his face. For the first time in their brief conversation, he saw hesitation.

He rolled his eyes, trying to feign as much boredom as he could as he looked up towards the sky.

“Well?” He started, voice casual and disinterested. “Get it on with.”

The seconds ticked by, and, as he lowered his head and looked over at her, he could see the trepidation in her face. Eyes narrowed and jaw working, body shifting just slightly as if she was fighting with herself.

He wondered, for a brief moment, if she was going to let him live.

The gun, which had lowered just the slightest, was aimed back at him before he could really give the thought much attention. Whatever it was she had been fighting against, she had stifled. Fragiles finger was on the trigger. His eyes moved back to the cloudy sky. He sucked in his last breath.

“Stop!”

Time seemed to freeze when the word broke the tense atmosphere. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long, thick with fear, relief, and desperation, had everything within him freezing just like the atmosphere.

No.

His brain stopped. Heart skipping a beat. The breath left his lungs. He felt frozen, just like the atmosphere. Scared to even look in the direction of the voice.

That couldn’t be them. They had told him they hadn’t Jumped in years. Hell, they said that they would never jump again!

There was no possible way this could be happening.

“Oh. Fuck.”

He couldn’t handle it any longer as the words, now dripped with more terror than the first word, forced him to look over his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” His voice sounded ragged and breathy, lungs crying out for air as stopped working, and he caught eyes with the last person he had ever expected to see.

(Y/N)’s eyes made contact with his, and he swears he sees a look of relief and concern wash over their face as they look him over. Shoulders slumping with the slightest release of tension as they gave him this soft, reassuring smile. It took only a few seconds for him to see just how exhausted they were, bags under eyes and thighs shaking with the need to rest

“Higgs.” Their voice was rough and drained, lungs heaving as their hands slipped from their place by their head and they turned to look at him.

“Do not move.” (Y/N) frozen, eyes widening as they moved from his to Fragile’s.

“Don’t shoot!” Their hands were up. Breath coming out in short, barely controlled and quavering every few seconds, and body as stiff as a board as they turned their body so they were facing hers. “I don’t want to hurt you or anyone, that wasn’t why I came here, I have no intention of doing so.” Their eyes moved between Fragile’s and her gun, voice just slightly higher than usual. “Please, there’s… no need for that.”

Any fear he had felt for himself shifted with a sharp and freezing knife in his chest, trailing up his spine and forcing him to fight the reaction to tackle Fragile. He sucked in a breath sharply, brain working a mile a minute as he tried to comprehend what was happening, and desperately trying to calm his breathing and manage the terror at the idea of them getting hurt.

They shouldn’t have been here. Not after their last conversation, not after what he had said, and how he had threatened them. Why would they be here?

His eyes darted in the direction he had heard Sam and Amelie head in, and relief flooded him when he realized that they were too far away to have seen or heard the commotion. He could only catch a glimpse of Sam from behind a whale, though he hadn’t caught on to what was happening.

He hoped the fuck would stay that way.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Fragile demanded, taking a small step towards (Y/N) as her finger slowly inching towards the trigger.

Higgs felt powerless, eyes moving between the two as he tried to find a way to get the gun pointed anywhere else. He grunted as he tried desperately the get out of the rope wrapped around his wrists, a low growl in his throat as they cut into his skin. Fragile glanced over at him, but nonetheless kept the gun aimed at (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked just as scared and shocked as Fragile and he himself was, body shaking with adrenaline and fear as they tried to keep themselves from making any sudden moves. If they so much as took one step that Fragile didn’t like, all three of them knew that there would be a bullet in their skull.

He was so powerless.

Binds felt tighter than they ever were in this moment, digging into his wrists as he tried to tear them off or get his hands out of them. This wasn’t what he wanted. He could deal with himself dying, he knew that was going to happen, whether it was for or against his plans. But the mere concept of them getting hurt sent a spike of rage through him that had him nearly seeing red. No. No matter how many bodies he saw or created, the brutal image of them, on the ground, dying, was one that shook him to his core. He didn’t want to see that. Not now, not later, not ever.

Fuck, why did they have to be so reckless?

“I don’t think it would be the greatest moment to share who I am-” They stopped when Fragile glared, an intimidating step and gun being pointed with more force than before. He hoped he knew Fragile enough to know she wouldn’t hurt them, but in this moment, when she was so ready to go against her set of morals to kill him, he wondered if she would let anything get in her way. “and I swear that the only thing that I want to do is get him out of here. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Higgs’ eyes widened. Out of anything he expected to come out of their mouth, that was most certainly not that. He didn’t need to be saved. He wasn’t saveable, he was a doomed man who was already reaching the end of his ticking clock. His life wasn’t worth risking theirs for. Not now. Not ever!

“(Y/N),-” The serrated edge in his voice was enough to them to look over at him, but he didn’t have enough time to finish before Fragile cut him off.

“I can’t let you do that.” Fragile had taken another few steps forward now, eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge them out. He wanted to scream, panic overriding his system as the image of them, dead and bleeding out on the sand kept repeating over and over in his head.

“Get the hell out of here!” He hissed, tugging hard enough to feel something pull tightly in his shoulder. He let out a groan, deep and low in his throat as he closed his eyes and managed his breath.

“Did you not just hear me?” Their voice, a pitch higher and faster, ripped him from the throbbing in his shoulder enough to look over at their distressed and angered expression. “I’m not leaving without you. I’m trying to save you, dumbass!” He bowed his head, mumbling a string of expletives and insults as he let out a clipped and sardonic chuckle. Even with the situation, (Y/N) had still found a way to insult him. He could practically feel (Y/N) glare before he looked back up to see it in full effect.

“He isn’t yours to save.”

They looked back towards Fragile. “But he’s yours to punish?” (Y/N) took a step forward as well, hands lowering slightly as they tried to work with Fragile. “I know he has done some horrific things, and he has hurt far more than he was healed. But that doesn’t give you or I or anyone other than Death the right to take his life away. He still has some hope, he can still be good. I still have hope. I have faith in knowing that he could be so much better than he ever was. Please. Do you really want his blood on your hands? What would that do?” They sucked in a deep breath, voice breaking in fear as they moved closer to him.

“What if you’re wrong?” Fragile’s voice was softer than it had been in the tense past five minutes, though it still held a serrated edge. Her head tilted and turned just enough to look at him.

“Than I’m an idiot?” They kept their eyes on her. “Then he will be…” Their jaw clenched and they winced. “My responsibility. Whatever that entails. Just… please. Please don’t do this.”

The air felt suffocating. Thick and buzzing with more than just Chiral Matter and death. The beat of his heart, fast and heavy, filling his ears with the blood rushing sound as he kept his eyes on (Y/N).

They needed to get out of here. This was so stupid.

“Take him. Before I change my mind.”

His eyes widened and he looked over at Fragile, eyes connecting with hers as she let the gun slip from its hold and rest against her hip. Fragile stood there for a moment, staring at (Y/N) who stayed where they were standing, before she walked around him, eyes moving from (Y/N)’s to his, as she leaned down and picked up his Chiral Mask and her bag. The look in her eyes when she stood back to her full height, was one he would never forget.

She turned and walked away, towards Sam and Amelie.

No. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

(Y/N) was in front of him in seconds, knees pressing into the sand and thighs brushing against his as they cupped his cheeks. It took everything to take his eyes away from Fragile’s back and turn to look over at (Y/N), afraid that once he did everything would disappear. Their eyes, that beautiful inviting colour that pulled him in and left him breathless. Clear as day and just less than a foot away from his. Their thumb, gentle and with more emotion than he thought possible in the action, brushed gently against his cheekbone.

His shoulders slouched, and eyes moving across their face as his breathing came out in short, light huffs. He couldn’t stop searching their face, looking for anything, a flaw, and warping, to prove that he had just finally completely, purely, lost it.

“Hey.” Their voice was so delicate at that moment. The briefest of whispers as they looked over his face.

The warmth from their palms seeped into his skin, and, as the realization truly soaked in that they were here, for the first time in so long, he let himself melt into the touch. A laugh, thick and heavy, left his lips as he looked into their eyes, searching for the answer for their stupid decision.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” His voice was rough and thick, wavering slightly as he raised his brows.

They let out a laugh, one that had his lips perking up into a soft smile as they shook their head. And tears, fresh and confusing him with the happiness they held, spilled from (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Home.

He liked the idea of that.

“Okay.”

#higgs x reader #higgs monaghan x reader #higgs monaghan

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ginger-nightmist · 4 years

Text

18) Panglossian

Y’all this one is CRUNCHY and maybe consider that a forewarning in that I’mma tag this as:

Exarch/F!WoL, one sided

So forewarned is forearmed if that’s not your preference.

It had all seemed to go as well as he could ever have dreamed, although he had, of course. We are all prone to impossible optimism in our heads. Still, amongst his priorities, he had achieved them all.

She had survived.

Norvandt had survived.

Lyna had survived.

The Crystarium had survived.

Impossibly, he has survived as well.

After all that, it seemed like he may as well believe the most impossible things could happen. Amongst the celebrations, G’raha realizes that she has slipped off and away from the others. Not a surprise, both that she would and that she could; most of the people here would think first of the other Warrior of Darkness, who wielded that power literally, who swept away sin eaters with mighty power and a fearless gaze. Oh, they knew that Kohanya was one as well, but her role to their eyes was smaller, supportive, magic not even particularly flashy.

Because none of them could recognize her slowly growing bloated and crackling with light, until she was hanging against being a monster by the slimmest nail, scraped towards it ilm by ilm, beautiful as the blade her existence became, held to their necks. She seemed to prefer it that way, too, which he struggled to understand. When he had first known her, she had no fear of being seen as a hero. The chronicles he had found from Ishgard’s ruins certainly painted her as one, tales of facing down dragons even greater than those the Allagans controlled. The records and tales had shifted their focus after that, but he had been sure, so sure. Yet when she came here, she preferred to fade away, stand back in other’s eyes. He still didn’t know why, when she still steps up, rarely questioning, to whatever challenge they put to her.

But he distracts himself. This is his territory, his home, and he can feel the traces of her aether, largely returned to normal, laying over the ground, luring him on like honeysuckle and spice on a hot summer breeze.

He finds her outside on one of the upper balconies, leaning against the railing, black cherry eyes on the inky interstellar medium, the brilliant sparkle of start in a range of pale hues. Out here in the dark, her hair is again almost as dark, the few lingering mismatched streaks disguised. As are the aberrations on her skin, with her high necked gown and long sleeves, covered from neck to toe. Grinning brilliantly, he moves to lean beside her, hand resting just so it brushes against the other miqo’te’s as he greets her, “You have achieved something truly miraculous. A hero unmatched in our history.”

Kohanya’s eyes turn to him, and they are colder than he’d expected, and weary. No pride or joy at her success. “I only did what I had to to be able to go home, G’raha, you should understand that notion.” There is a low hiss to her voice, especially at his name, and the Exarch gazes back, as wounded as if his own eyes truly were of blood.

Uncertain, he reaches to take her hand in his still of mortal flesh and bone, interlace fingers tightly. “Kohanya? Of course, I wanted to go home someday, but I wanted to preserve you far more. There was no home without you.”

Something cracks in her features and for the smallest moment he believes she is about to confess she returns his feelings and all will be as perfect as he could ever have dreamed. Then sorrow descends across her like a widow’s veil, darkening. “G’raha. You were my friend, not my beloved. We never spoke of such things. I did not believe you had felt much more, given how easily you left to sleep forever.”

His ears flick back as he swears he hears a distant sound, like a glass dropped onto a stone floor. “I didn’t think we had to! You… We… That night together!” The halcyon memory that had sustained him, had replayed over and over in his head a thousand thousand times a day, until the colors were truer than life, the sounds deeper, until the sense of it and her had been charged into the fundamental atoms of his self, flesh or crystal. How could he possibly have misremembered it?

Kohanya’s eyelids dropping, covering her for a long moment. “G’raha… No. Yes, we had sex, because you were my friend and I thought you wanted to. Then when it ended, you acted like you felt guilty and miserable for what happened.” She laughs, low and bitter. “Twelve! I wasn’t even sure you would still want to be my friend, I must have been so bad!”

“Kohanya. My love, no, no, you were wonderful, I—” G’raha pulls her hand his chest, clutching it to his heart, as if through word and force of body he can convince her to understand how her memory, her history is wrong. “I felt bad for seducing you, knowing what I might have to do, to leave you.”

She tugs at her hand, as if she wants to take it away, and he lets go as if burnt. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty, although I am not sure I would call it a seduction. We were friends. I was trying to make my friend happy.” She takes a step back, and he expression is the terrible gentleness of the divine. “I am not in love with you and I never have been. You don’t really love me either. You don’t even know who I am now.”

More shards of glass, ground underfoot, wailing, and his ears are flat on his hair, his eyes wide. “I thought — Surely —” He stills and a series of horrifying realizations occurs. Maybe he had created something more than what was really there in memory. Maybe he truly had asked too much. Maybe wanting everything and her heart too was a step too far. “No. I am sorry for my misunderstanding. I will give you your space.”

He turns, crisply, and walks away, ignoring the soft sigh behind him, that is as much sorrow and regret as exhaustion. Or so he wants, even now, to believe.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv writing #Kohanya #Exarch

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harringtonheartache · 5 years

Text

Daybreak | Part Five

Part Six

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part five of this fic. Trauma unburiable and comfort unfamiliar.

Word Count: 2,200 +

Warning(s): Mild cussing, PTSD/trauma

A/N: Yay chapter five! Thank you to anyone who is reading (-:

While he had previously been roped into driving only Dustin to the arcade, Steve had now upgraded his chauffeur position and become responsible for driving all four kids back to their respective houses. Nine still sat shotgun - her spot was reserved at this point - and this time around she was left void of questions from the kid in the back. The boys (squished into three seats despite their headcount of a higher number) talked with one another at a slightly above reasonable volume.

“If I had like, one more quarter, I totally would have beaten your high-score,” Dustin spoke.

“No you wouldn’t have,” Lucas responded, the look on his face communicating just as much self-righteousness as his tone.

“Okay, one of you out,” Steve said as he stopped the car in front of a house.

“One of us? Whose house are we at?” Mike questioned him, the darkness of the sky leaving it hard to see exactly where they were through the back windows of Steve’s car.

“Technically Lucas’s, but as long as one of you gets out, I don’t care who I leave here,” he said.

Lucas, hearing his destination announced, ignored Steve’s attitude. He still had Dustin to argue with. “You wouldn’t have beaten my score,” he said. He ducked out of the car. “And you never will!” He said with a slick smile and a louder voice, shutting the door before Dustin could respond. His mouth hung open for a second, as his chance of shooting back was taken away from him at the closing of the car door.

With every stop, the noise from the back got lesser and lesser. Will was the last to be dropped off (although he could have sworn his house came before Mike’s), and he gave a polite farewell to Steve and Nine. He was the only kid of the four who verbally thanked them, although they were all grateful despite their lack of expressing it upfront. “No problem, Will,” Steve said as Will climbed out of the back seat. “It was nice to meet you, Nina” he told Nine. She had almost forgotten she had a second name. “You too,” she said to him.

Once Will had gotten about halfway up his driveway (Steve always watched to make sure they got inside okay), she spoke again. “I think he’s my favorite”.

“What, not me?” Steve said to her, his eyes scrunching in a false dissatisfaction.

“Of the kids,” she clarified.

“Ohh,” He rolled his eyes, not aggressively, but rather to signify that he understood, or that he just got it. “Okay,” he said, throwing his head with a dramatic nature, his hair (messy but somehow still immaculate) bouncing as he did so. Nine chuckled at this, and it was only after she did so that he dropped the act and cracked a smile too.

—

By the time the two arrived back at Steve’s house, the sun had completely set. He decided that entry through the backdoor was the safest bet, as it was less likely to alert the attention of his parents than it’s alternative. He guided Nine with his own movement. “This way,” he told her as they circled the house to his backyard. The night was quiet, their feet making soft strides through the grass. It was dark since the absence of the sun, but she could still make out his tall figure in front of her as for the serene moonlight that illuminated her view. Once they had made it to the concrete of the back porch, a new light showcased his silhouette: the ones that lit the pool.

She paid it significant mind, uncertain and slightly curious of the body of water’s purpose, but chose not to ask Steve for answers. She was sure that he wasn’t fond of explaining things that seemed nothing but ordinary to him. They walked the curve of patio around the water’s edge, himself leading the way, three small steps up to the backdoor. “Shit, did I really leave the house key in-” Steve broke the quiet nature of the atmosphere, but only slightly as he said this in a whisper. He felt his pant pockets up and down, patting the fabric to feel for metal underneath. “I don’t know why I don’t have the house key on the same ring as the one for my car,” he continued with his soft-spoken ramblings. “Shit, okay I gotta go back,” he told her, spinning on the heels of his feet to face her with an apologetic yet lighthearted look on his face. It was humorous. Nine was standing below those three steps, as she hadn’t climbed them yet. She raised her eyebrows slightly, but only communicated a look with an understanding and untroubled essence.

He took up the lead again, back to the car to retrieve the key that his misorganization placed there. She followed him, not because she was required too or even asked, but because she hadn’t even considered waiting there for him instead. Taking a few steps backward to give him room, she intended to follow him right back to the car. “Sorry,” he threw her a quick apology, although she didn’t think that he really needed to.

She stepped without quite looking where she was going. The back half of her foot was met without ground, and the lack of balance threw her body backwards into the cold of pool water. Without much time to realize her mistake, a small yelp could be heard for but a second before she was submerged underwater. Steve heard it though, and turned swiftly to watch her disappear under the surface. The first splash in the deep end was followed by a second. He had jumped in willingly, and now directed himself to where he had watched Nine fall. His pool was deep. The lower end of it sunk to eleven feet to allow diving from the board above. Gravity’s victim kicked with no particular swimming stride at the bottom of those eleven feet, water filling her lungs as she couldn’t help but scream. The feeling of hands, strong but struggling against her movements, made her want to scream louder. As she was unable to put up a true fight, they gripped around her center, underneath her breasts but above her stomach. Arms tightly around her, she was pulled upward, and she inhaled sharply when her head broke the surface of the water. “Hey, hey I got you,” she was told. Her breathing was erratic, interspersed with coughs combating the water she had swallowed. “You’re okay, I got you”. With the voice’s second sentence of reassurance, her mind was able to fully realize who it was that had her within their hold. She stopped thrashing. Steve swam gently without lessening his grip, pulling her with him in the direction of the pool stairs. Her hands found the arm that wrapped itself around her upper half now, and she clutched onto it. ‘I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he said again.

Steve could now touch the bottom of the pool, and Nine probably could too, but he still did not let go of her. Once reaching the stairs, he turned her around to help her to dry ground. Once she was met with the familiar feeling of concrete beneath her feet, she sunk, her body too weak from it’s unintentional swim to stand. Her left leg bent in front of her, as if she were sitting cross legged, but her right bent slightly further out rather than stacking on top, left foot to the side of her right thigh. Her hands, flat against the pavement in front of her, gave her support as she leaned forward somewhat. Steve, removed from the water as well, trotted over to a poolside chair to gather a towel. “Can- can I touch you?” he asked her when he returned with it in hand. Perhaps a silly question to someone whom he had just hauled from a pool, but one he made sure to ask. Breathless, she nodded. He wrapped the towel around her back, tucking it over her shoulders. His left hand did not leave her when he was done though, as he placed it lightly against her back.

He now sat next to her, his own wet clothes leaving a pool of water next to the one Nine’s body produced. She closed her eyes, struggling against unwanted thoughts that filled her head like it’s own eleven-foot swimming pool. “You’re safe now, I promise,” he spoke. A promise he could now guarantee. His hand circled against her back soothingly.

—

Returned to the true safety of his bedroom, Steve now shuffled through his closet for dry clothes to offer Nine. This time he fished out a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He turned around to hand them to her, taking notice of how intensely she was still shaking. “Hey, do you want to take a hot shower? Then you can change into these clothes,” he said. Her hands still gripped the pool towel he had given her outside. “I can wait just outside the door, no one will bother you,” he told her. She agreed. He walked her to the hallway bathroom, letting her inside and placing the clothes on the closed toilet seat. He folded them neatly, as his mother had done with the blanket he used for his bed on the floor. “You can use whatever you want in there,” he said, referencing the various soaps and shampoos that lined the hollowed segments of his shower. “Okay,” she told him. “Thank you,” she added, looking into his eyes completely. It was a sincere thank-you, one that held the weight of more than just gratitude for the granted use of the shampoos. “Yeah,” he responded softly, holding eye-contact with her beyond his response. He ducked his head as he stepped out of the bathroom, carefully shutting the door. Keeping his vow, he stood with his back against it as he waited for her.

Her hair now smelled like Steve’s, and her body was dressed in a large sweatshirt that almost completely covered the shorts she was also given. The hood tucked nicely against her neck, her and Steve retreated to his room. “Do you feel better?” he asked once they were inside. “Yes,” she said, a small smile following her words. It was a genuine expression, but it still had a thread of sorrow sewn somewhere within it. “That's good,” he said.

—

Sitting up with great speed, Nine gasped louder than she would have preferred as she violently pulled herself from sleep. After taking into consideration her surroundings, she decided to be grateful she hadn’t screamed instead. Sat slightly off-centered on Steve’s bed, she took panicked inhales and exhales, trying to remove herself from her brain’s idea of a dream. “Are you okay?” a voice in the darkness startled her a little bit more. Gazing over the bed’s end, she saw Steve, who sat up too, gazing right back at her. “Yeah,” she responded. “Just,” a pause, “a bad dream,” she finished. “Oh,” his voice spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned. He had actually been awake for a few minutes, and the idea of conversation comforted him as he hoped it would her as well. Her breathe calmed, chest rising and falling with less rage. There was a pause before she spoke again; she was contemplating her own speech. “Back at the lab.. They would lock me in these big tanks of water. In my dream I was back there. They wouldn’t let me out.” A nightmare Steve had surely never endured himself. He sat silently for a moment, and Nine worried she had taken an invitation to discussion he had not truly intended for her to take. “Is that why it scared you so much? Falling into the pool?” he asked, connecting the day’s events with her confession of trauma. His voice was soft, perhaps as soft as it had been earlier when he had reassured her that she was safe. “Yes,” she said quietly. “My mind just brought be back to those tanks”.

Silence fell as it had before, Steve’s inexperience battling with his kind and consoling nature. “I’m sorry,” he spoke again, not wanting to leave her too long without a response. “I,” he paused once more, contemplating words. “I can’t exactly relate to, or even imagine that feeling. That’s terrifying.” He shook his head in disbelief and sincere empathy.

No one spoke for another twenty seconds or so, but the silence was comfortable. A steady calmness settled over Nine just knowing that he was awake and sitting with her. “I won’t let them take you back,” Steve’s voice found itself in the room again. Nine had been focused on her hands as she provided her segment of the conversation, but with this assurance, she looked up to meet his eye in the darkened room. A smile graced her face, but not to reassure Steve this time. Since she had first staggered into Steve’s car, with every moment leading up to now, a feeling of true security had been increasing inside of her. It was with his last sentence this sensation of safety derived from being within Steve’s presence was finalized. He smiled back at her from the floor, that same calmness reaching him as well.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tag list: @ggclarissa @hyp-oh-critical @orchideax @we-are-band-sexuals @cpt-lamby @l0ve-0f-my-life @girlyisthatweirdkid @walmartrotisseriechicken

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

A Story You Won’t Believe (Geralt x fem!witcher, Part 5.)

Series description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part Summary: Your arrival to villages of Borin and Corin were more or less accepted by the folk living there. Yet with uncovering the mystery risen up around Mahakam mountains, there were more questions than aswer.

A/N: Why did I fell so hard so the Witcher politics? It was almost not mentioned in the series at all, but I am all about Temeria this and Redania that.

Tagging: @osgon-azure @davnwillcome @missdictatorme @nemodoren

Word count: 1.9K

Master list: H E R E

Talking with the survivors was the worst part of your journey, you would most likely say. You had to wake up the pain inside these people, which wasn’t making you happy at all. You had to keep the whole emotionless mascarade on your face while they were crying their eyes out. All the things they told you and Geralt over the next three days were practically identical - something about the size of a sty was crossing the villages, rampaging them with footsteps shaking the land, each of them being as loud as a thunder.

No wonder why you wanted to drink your ass off that night. Soon, you were supposed to leave for Corin to ask the refugees there, but you just felt as your heart sunk deeper and deeper. Mostly, when the contractors wanted you to slay some nekkers, foglets, or vampires, it was okay - but this was a giant. And not just one giant. There were more of them.

How in the world were you supposed to slay these fuckers? Two witchers against a whole tribe? You didn't stand a chance. At least you hoped that Jaskier will escape and that he'll make your funeral nice. Whoever said that witchers and witchresses can’t feel emotions was wrong. You were scared to death and that was why you were drinking a fourth ale.

“Is there someone who can play Gwent? Huh?” - You yelled on the whole inn, raising your deck in the air. - “I’m one of the last witchresses of the Kaer Morhen and whoever will pay my next drink will get to listen to my stories all fucking night long.” - Then you dragged Jaskier by his jacket so he was standing next to you. - “And I have this jester with me who is known as the bard Jaskier. He can play you some royal banger if you wish him to.”

To Geralt’s surprise, few men got up and brought you beer and ale. They were taking turns in playing Gwent with you while you told them the craziest stories you had. There was the Nightmare of the Mire West, Golden mist on the coast of Temeria, the Fake Witcher of Lyria... You had a lot of stories. The drunker you got, the more fun you were telling them with a burst of man-like laughter, having some wrinkles on your forehead. Curse words were falling out of your lips. It was rare to see someone like you behave so... Human.

No matter which story you were telling, you were still concentrated on playing Gwent, knowing what your opponents are about to do. You couldn’t understand a shit the dwarves and gnomes were telling you, yet you laughed like crazy at their words which certainly made them contained.

“Oy, really, ’ere, not too far is a camp of some Temerians.” - One of the human men told you, which made you giggle again. As you drank more and more, it was hard to exactly tell which one of the three men was speaking to you. Understanding the language was a completely next level shit for at that moment. You were just glad that you had enough food, alcohol, and someone to play cards with.

“Not too strange when we are in Temeria, good lord. And to your information, I won the round, didn't eye?” - You rose your eyebrows and put another card on the table, looking at the sober gnome who was counting the points. He nodded back at you so you knew that you're still winning. His small hands prepared the table for another round while other gnome started to mix the cards. Both of them made sure you or the man sitting in front of you weren't cheating.

“No, lady, these Temerians are the ones who ran away from the castle. Or that’s what I’ve heard. Sometimes we see ’em sneaking up in the woods, sometimes ya can hear a horse driving by at night.” - The man told you again and you took a frustrated breath when the dwarf put the nekker card on the table, putting another three of them on the table since this was the skill the card had. You hand banged the table, making the pints on it shake.

Geralt watched you turn the match around, still thinking about the Temerians. He heard that some of them had run away - but not because they wanted to betray King Foltest. They were sent to spy on the Mahakam to inspect the situation and to try to put an end to all of the horrors. Could his old friend, Vernon Roche, be there, probably leading the spy group?

“Another row for everyone, good man!” - You yelled at the innkeeper, punching Jaskier’s shoulder to make him play the lute. Normally, you had better manners than Geralt - but when you got drunk, you were worse than a sailor, punching around you, cursing, being overall pain in the ass. Jaskier didn't say a word, his palm just gently massaged his shoulder before he played the first chords.

“And now, I will tell you the story of how my friend Geralt visited the great Cintral ball.” - You yelled with your hands above your head, smiling. Everyone cheered and so you started telling the story.

It was a while after midnight when the fight came around. The fights weren't the aggressive, provoked ones - the inns had usually a tournament and a list of fighters that usually came there to fight. The best one usually won the prize.

"Oy! I want to fight too!" - You cried, standing up with supporting your weight by Geralt's shoulder. The white-haired man rose the pint, grinning into its bottom as he watched walking you to the corner.

"Ye a woman, and I ain't about to hurt you. Ye shall go continue drinking for now." - A dwarf answered you and you shifted your weight as you tried not to spin around. You leaned one of your palms into the wall, supporting yourself as you watched the men around you.

"Geralt tell 'em that I can't fight!" - You yelled through the whole inn, making everyone turn at the white-haired witcher. Jaskier also concentrated on the dialogue there since the comment itself was highly captivating.

"I saw her cutting a head off of a werewolf which she killed just minutes prior. No offense gentlemen, you'd shit yourself and ran as soon as you'd hear it." - Geralt praised you without a single problem, making a toast to you. Your finger pointed at him as you nodded.

"See? Now stop fucking with me and let me fight." - A drunk exhale came out of you again when you put your hair off your face, yet the men laughed again. They pointed at your clothes and so you did just what they wanted you to do. With two quick moves, the chest piece fell on the ground, followed by your gloves and shirt. After taking off all the clothes you weren't supposed to have on you, you kicked in the direction of Geralt's table. Only bandages were now covering your chest as you stood in front of the huge and tall fisherman.

Geralt nor Jaskier hadn't seen what was hiding underneath the chest piece - long, deep scars, bruises, and cuts; which were way worse than Geralt ever had. Some of the wounds weren't even properly healed until this very day. No matter if you'd be speaking of the old ones or new ones, some of them still appeared to be open, or at least fragile. You still had the wound from the Nightmare of the Mire West next to your stomach. It was badly sewed and the scar was puffy and completely reddened around. It was a miracle that you hadn't got an infection. Your face was perfect, your arms were also without a scar... But your torso... That sight was horrendous, making most of the men shut up and watch you.

You started the fight without anyone excepting you to. Your fist was blatantly thrown into the tall man's face, making him step away. You didn't exactly hit the bull's eye, but you didn't miss either. In that courageous drunkard state, you hadn't even the need to cover your face, you just stood there and grinned at the punched man. It could be seen that you're drunk as fuck, but you still moved out of the way elegantly when the man wanted to punch you back.

At that moment, you kicked his stomach with your knee, catching his forearm before he could hit you, still keeping him bowed. It would be easy to just luxate his shoulder completely. You felt the gristles and bones play under your touch, tensing and relaxing with the muscles. Numbly, you could hear the beat of his heart and his breathing. He wasnt screaming, no, but this particular position was hurting him. You got to know that since the pulse inside his veins was off the charts.

After realizing that it's not fair to win with such an advantage, you let go to let him take a breath in, pushing him away like a little girl. Without you expecting the fisherman to, he punched your face.

Your nose cracked directly on to the top, making blood drip on your upper lip and your teeth. The men never saw anything as scary as that - a witchress with blood dripping from her nose, with white hair; bruised, scarred body and glowing golden eyes.

"That's all you can do?" - You asked before punching him into the stomach and giving him an elbow into his spine. After that, he fell flat on his back, coughing blood as well. He didn't lose his consciousness, but it was obvious that you won this round.

Everyone watched you standing above that man before you looked at the innkeeper. - "Well, you have a list here, don't you? Who's next?" - You looked around clapping your hands while the other two men helped the fisherman away.

You beat six various men until they couldn't pick themselves off the ground, still having only your nose cracked. To put it nicely, you were a monster when you got drunk - suddenly, the hidden aggression and rage needed to leave your body at once. It didn't matter how many men you had to fight, you wouldn't stop until you'd win the prize, which happened.

To end it quickly, you had ended up around two in the morning when you fell asleep on the table, having the Gwent cards waved into your hair and blood all over your face. Your armor was somehow put on your body, your swords were put next to you on the bench along with your pouch.

When it has woken you up, you first thought that you’re dreaming. The pints on the table were shaking and loud sounds were coming from behind the walls. Your head hurt like living fuck, you wanted to curse, you barely stood up on your own feet. You understood that you’re not dreaming when you heard screaming and smelled fire.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #the world of the witcher #andrzej sapkowski #bard jaskier #dandelion #vernon roche #i love my bois #geralt of rivia x reader #Geralt of rivia x female! Witchress

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