#despite everyone else having gone home because it takes too much effort to gather my things and walk to my car and im afraid of falling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-katsuki · 3 years

Text

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you.

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye.

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty.

No one believed you. And who would?

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him.

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year.

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them.

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions.

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front.

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?”

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing.

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out.

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you.

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy.

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter.

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt.

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.”

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze.

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place.

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep.

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently.

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.”

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache.

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested.

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name.

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.”

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.”

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock.

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too.

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves.

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.”

Oh, he gets it now.

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again.

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.”

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb?

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?”

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life.

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head.

“You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm.

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!”

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima.

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better.

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?”

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through.

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder.

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you.

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut.

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course.

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind.

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons?

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same.

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.”

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?”

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you.

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help.

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head.

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-”

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.”

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge.

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down.

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again.

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?”

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss.

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class.

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you.

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock.

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him.

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.”

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal.

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying.

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips.

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth.

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.”

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat.

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal.

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs.

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.”

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh.

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all.

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds.

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.”

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you.

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.”

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief.

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin.

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically.

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.”

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face.

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows.

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt.

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl.

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips.

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.”

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs.

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet.

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours.

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust.

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.”

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull.

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks.

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy.

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly.

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.”

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together.

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this?

“Say it.”

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now.

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.”

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed.

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.”

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it.

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt.

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy.

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up.

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.”

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long.

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth.

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy.

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist!

4K notes · View notes

vampiregirl1797 · 3 years

Text

The Starlight Stone

GIF not mine.

Rhysand x Reader

Word Count: 4,898

Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.

Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.

Masterlist Here :)

Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.

I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.

He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.

‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.

‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.

‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.

‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.

He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’

I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’

Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’

I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.

‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.

‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’

‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.

‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.

I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.

‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’

Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.

Six Months Later

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’

His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’

I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.

I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.

‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.

I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’

She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’

I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’

She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’

I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’

‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’

‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.

‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’

‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’

She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.

For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.

It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’

It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’

‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’

‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’

She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’

I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’

‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.

‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.

‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.

I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.

The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.

‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’

He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’

I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.

I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.

‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.

‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’

I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’

‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.

‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’

I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.

‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’

He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.

I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.

Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.

Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.

I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.

I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.

After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.

My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.

‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?

His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.

‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.

‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.

‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.

He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’

‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.

His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.

‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.

I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.

One Year Later

‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.

‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.

‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.

‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.

‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.

‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.

We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.

Home. This was home.

#ACOTAR #ACOMAF #ACOWAR #ACOSF #Rhysand x Reader

220 notes · View notes

sturchling · 3 years

Note

Adrien salt where Adrien tries to date a girl he thinks is Ladybug, but she's already dating someone and honestly doesn't like Adrien since he keeps pulling the poor little rich boy act. Adrien doesn't give up and it gets him in trouble.

Adrien was practically vibrating with excitement. Today was the day. Today was the day he would ask his lady out on a date as civilians. He had been working for weeks to determine who her civilian identity was. Adrien was sure that would prove to his lady that his affections were genuine. It had taken several weeks, but he was sure he had figured it out.

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

He had spent weeks pouring over security camera footage surrounding akuma attacks, and any students in the city that had unexplained absences or were frequently late. At first he didn’t see anything, and began to feel like it was pointless. Then Adrien noticed the same girl showed up on different security cameras around the city, near where Ladybug had just disappeared to detransform.

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

At first Adrien thought it had to be a coincidence, this girl didn’t look like Ladybug. Sure, her hair and eyes were the same color, but her hair was much longer. And she was more tan then Ladybug. But the more times she appeared on camera, the more Adrien was sure. After all, his miraculous makes his eyes completely green, who is to say the miraculous couldn’t shorten his lady’s hair and make her more pale. This had to be her. Adrien was sure. Plagg kept trying to talk him out of it, but Adrien was sure that Plagg was just trying to keep the secret. But it wouldn’t matter soon, once Adrien and his lady were dating, they would deal with whatever consequences came from knowing each other’s identities. He was sure their love could overcome anything.

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

After a little more research, he found that the girl from the security cameras attended his school, and even used to be in Mrs. Bustier’s class before she transferred to Mrs. Mendeleiev’s class. Now it all made sense why Ladybug’s kwami had been at his school, Ladybug herself went to his school. That even explained why the kwami had been in Mrs. Mendeleiev’s classroom, because that is Ladybug’s classroom. Everything made perfect sense now. This girl had to be Ladybug, it was the only thing that made sense.

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

The only problem now was during his research, Adrien found out that this girl, who he learned is named Chantelle, is already dating someone. Of course Ladybug had told Adrien that she was already in love with someone else. But Adrien believed that she had said that to try and keep them from knowing each other outside the mask. Once Chantelle knew the lengths he had gone to prove his love, and that he already knew her civilian identity, she would leave her boyfriend and then they could finally be together.

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

Sure in his plan, despite Plagg’s best efforts to convince him otherwise, Adrien left for school, excited to profess his love to his lady. He got to school early, hoping to find his lady alone. He got lucky and found her in the library, reading. He walked up behind her, and said, “Good morning my lady.” Chantelle whipped around to face him, looking confused. “What did you say?” Adrien smirked, “I said, good morning my lady.” Chantelle rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. “I am not your lady. I’m not your anything.” Adrien hesitated a moment, before reassuring himself that his lady was just playing hard to get, and wanted to pretend at still have a secret identity. If that is what she wanted, he would play along.

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

Adrien switched gears, putting away his Chat persona for now. He and his lady could discuss their identities another time. All that mattered is that he made her his girlfriend. “I just wanted to tell you that I like you a lot and would love to take you out sometime.” Chantelle stood up, gathering her things since the late bell had just rung. She was just going to reject him as nice as she could and then leave. “Look, your Adrien right? While I am flattered, like I said, I’m taken. And while I’m flattered, I don’t feel the same way. All I ever see or hear you do is mope about how your father doesn’t treat you well. And while I feel bad for you, I don’t like this poor little rich boy act you do. So, sorry, but I don’t like you the same way. I have to go, I’m late for class.” Chantelle leaves the library in a rush, and Adrien is left standing there wondering what had gone wrong.

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

By the end of the day, Adrien was frustrated. He understood her wanting to keep identities a secret, and had even played along. But she still rejected him. Surely she could feel that they were destined to be together. Why didn’t she react to his confession the way she was supposed to? She must have thought that Adrien wasn’t serious. That he was just being Chat and playing around. But Adrien would show her she was wrong. He would prove his love. No matter what it took, she would be his.

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

The next several weeks, Adrien would constantly try to contact Chantelle. He had found out her phone number, and her email. He texted and emailed her constantly. And he still tried to talk to her during school. But Chantelle continued to play hard to get and wouldn’t give him the time of day. She even had the nerve to start running from him when she saw him coming. She had even started having her friends escort her to and from school. Like she was afraid of him. But Adrien knew it was all part of the game, and she was making him prove he loved her.

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

Adrien started to become angry. As much as he enjoyed this little game, he wished his lady would just stop with the nonsense and admit she loved him too. So he decided to prove his love as best he could. He had found out Chantelle’s home address by following her friends when they went to pick her up one morning. Adrien decided to send her a dozen roses. When Chantelle went out that morning and saw the flowers, she initially hoped they were from her boyfriend, trying to cheer her up. But deep down she knew they weren’t. The note on the flowers simply said, I hope these flowers prove how much I love you. I will never give up on you my lady. - Adrien. Chantelle was horrified that Adrien had found out where she lived. She slammed the door shut, and locked it with shaking hands. She started to panic at the realization that Adrien was truly stalking her and wouldn’t stop. Then an eerie calmness washed over her and a soothing voice introduced itself as Hawkmoth.

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

Adrien arrived at the akuma fight slightly late, but was happy to see his lady. Surely after his gift this morning, she would be willing to speak with him after the battle. The akuma was a girl scared of a stalker. They quickly deakumatized her and Adrien was shocked to see Chantelle sitting there. Ladybug offered to help her with the stalker and Chantelle instantly burst into tears and explained the whole situation to Ladybug. Marinette was shocked to hear what Adrien had been doing to this girl, it didn’t seem like him at all. But this girl was obviously scared, so she knew something had happened. And when Chantelle mentioned that Adrien kept calling her my lady, Marinette felt the pit in her stomach grow as she realized that Adrien and Chat Noir were one and the same. She turned to face her partner, who was still staring at Chantelle in shock.

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

Adrien was standing in shock, just staring at Chantelle. She isn’t Ladybug? She had to be! It was the only thing that made sense. Adrien was so shocked, he didn’t notice Ladybug approach him and remove his ring. The transformation dropped, revealing himself to everyone watching. He turned to Ladybug, “Why did you take my ring!?” Ladybug glared at him, speaking in a cold tone. “After what you did to her, you don’t deserve this ring.” Adrien desperately tried to plead his case. “Please, I thought she was you! I was just trying to prove my love. I didn’t mean to betray you!” Ladybug’s glare somehow became colder. “That isn’t the issue. The issue is you have been stalking this girl for weeks and terrifying her. Someone who does that isn’t worthy of a miraculous.” Ladybug signaled to officer Roger, who had been observing the scene for a while and heard everything, for him to come over. Officer Roger placed Adrien under arrest for stalking and took him down to the station. The whole way to the car, Adrien pleaded with Ladybug to reconsider and to help him, but she just turned away from him. As Adrien sat in the police car, he wondered how things could have gone so wrong.

#ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml salt #ml salt fic #ml salt fanfic #adrien salt #stalker adrien #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt #miraculous salt fic #miraculous salt fanfic

690 notes · View notes

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Both of You

Tony x Reader based on this request!

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word Count: 1803

a/n: This one makes me feel warm inside. We're just pretending Pepper does not exist because any mention of killing her off is too sad for me to deal with right now. Tony deserves happiness. Featuring The Best Day by Taylor Swift.

Also, I'm currently working on a Reid request, two Steve fics, and an idea I had for Bucky, but somehow this one was the one that got me motivated.

Masterlist

You were relaxing, aka being forced to recover from a gunshot wound before going on any more missions, on the couch in the living room for the third night in a row. To say you were absolutely bored would be underselling it.

You spent the past few days alone roaming the compound because everyone else was out on missions. Typically this would mean hanging out with Morgan, but Happy's been monopolizing her time.

You were just about to start another movie when your phone started ringing.

"Where are you?" The voice was desperate.

"Nice to hear from you Happy. How are you, today?" You sassed him back.

"Y/N, I'm serious." His tone put you on high alert.

"I'm in the main living room, what happened?" You sat up from the couch, ready to come to him at a moments notice.

"I'm in the elevator, I'll explain in a minute." He hung up before you could ask any follow up questions.

You were up and standing at the elevator in no time, anxiously awaiting Happy's arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the elevator carrying a sleeping Morgan in his arms. He walked past you to set her on the couch before explaining.

"May had a bit of an emergency, I need to go pick her up. She's fine, just a little shaken up. Can you watch Morgan?" You could see the lingering fear in his eyes.

"Of course. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do!" You spoke in a fast whisper, getting the words out quickly but quietly to account for Happy already boarding the elevator and Morgan still asleep in the living room.

"I'll call you if anything else happens."

And with that he was gone.

You made your way back into the living room while trying to decide if you should bring Morgan back up to her bed. She would sleep better there, but you might wake her up on the way.

You were just about to pick her up when she let out a strangled sob.

"Morgan?" She still appeared to be asleep, but her face showed fear. "Morgan, honey, wake up."

You spoke gently while running a hand soothingly through her hair. Despite your best efforts, she woke with a start. Her little fingers balled into fists, tears pooling in her eyes before you could say anything.

"Morgan, it's okay! You're okay. I'm here." You gathered her in your arms to rock her back and forth. "You're okay. Everything's okay."

You continued rocking her back and forth while whispering words of affirmation until her crying stopped.

"I- I want my- my dad." She hiccuped.

"Oh sweetheart, he's not home right now." It broke your heart to disappoint her. "Do you wanna tell me when you dreamed about?"

She nodded slowly, but clung to your arms.

"I had a bad dream." You could tell she was till scared. "There was a monster and he took Peter away!" She was getting worked up again.

"Peter's fine, baby. Do you want me to call him?" You spoke softly while reaching into your pocket for your phone.

She nodded solemnly. "With video, please."

"Of course, honey."

It didn't take long for you to facetime Peter. You could only hope that he would answer on the first try. While it rung, you angled the phone against a candle on the table to include you and Morgan in the frame.

"Hi Ms. Y/N- oh! Hi Morgan!" Peter's cheerful voice rung through the living room.

"Hi Pete!" Morgan's voice matched Peter's cheerfulness, but you could still tell she was shaken up.

"See, baby. Peter's okay." You gently prodded her mind to accept that the dream was just that, a dream.

"Petey, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so scared." She ignored your comment, but you could tell the call was helping her.

"Oh Morgan, did you have another nightmare? I'm sorry! You can always call me whenever you need to. I promise." He did well to cheer up the young girl.

You sat back against the couch, just listening to Morgan and Peter conversing for the next hour or so.

"Alright, I think we've got to try to go back to bed now. Say goodbye to Peter."

Morgan pouted, but didn't put up much of a fight.

"Bye Petey! I love you!" She called happily, the nightmare all but forgotten.

"Bye Morgan, I love you too. Bye, Ms. Y/N!" Peter called out.

"Bye, Peter." You smiled as you hung up the phone. "Let's get you up to bed."

"Nooo!" She whined. "Can I just lay down here with you?"

You knew you were a goner the minute she started pouting. With a sigh, you easily gave in to her demands. "Yes, but you still have to sleep."

"Yay! Can you sing to me?" She laid down on the couch, putting her head in your lap.

"Sure, sweetheart. What song?" You began running your hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"The one about being 5 and having a good day!"

You let out a small chuckle at her description, but you knew the song she meant.

"I'm five years old, it's getting cold. I've got my big coat on. I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, and run and run."

As soon as you started singing, she closed her eyes and stopped moving around. You didn't really believe her, but she's always said your voice makes her feel calm inside.

"Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now, the sky is gold. I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home."

You were so intently focused on Morgan, that you didn't hear the elevator doors opening and closing just down the hall.

*In the elevator*

"Someone's singing?" Steve phrased it as a question, but he knew he could hear it as the elevator moved up a few floors.

"Who?" Tony, although uninterested, asked.

"I hear it too!" Bucky chimed in, feeling weirdly at peace just from hearing the melody.

Everyone else in the elevator strained their ears to hear the voice, but came up empty until the elevator doors opened.

Slowly, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Nat, Sam, and Wanda piled out of the elevator.

"I don't know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you're not scared of anything at all."

"Y/N..." Tony whispered, so as not to disturb you.

"Why would she be singing?" Wanda questioned. You always refuse to sing karaoke with them, so it doesn't make sense to her that you would be singing to yourself in the middle of the compound.

Suddenly, a much younger voice joined in on the song.

"Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today."

"Hey, missy. You promised me you'd try to sleep. That means no singing, just listening." Tony felt his smile grow as you playfully scolded his daughter.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'll be quiet." Morgan promised.

The group of Avengers listened as you began singing again. They slowly made their way toward the living room, moving silently so you wouldn't hear them and stop singing.

"There is a video I found from back when I was three. You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you're talking to me."

Tony was just far enough past the doorway to peak over the edge of the couch. The sight of Morgan curled up in your lap made his heart flutter.

"It's the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs. And Daddy's smart and you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world."

The entire group of Earth's mightiest heroes wore matching expressions of complete and utter adoration watching you sing to Morgan.

Tony silently gestured for the rest of the group to leave, ultimately staring them down until they did so. He watched as you sang the rest of the song, stroking her hair until she fell into a restful sleep.

"I didn't know if you knew, so I'm taking this chance to say: that I had the best day with you today."

You hummed a bit to ensure Morgan was asleep before you stopped singing entirely.

Tony realized you were going to pick her up, so he softly cleared his throat to gain your attention as he walked around the couch.

The soft smile on his face warmed your heart.

"Hi Tony." You greeted him as he picked up his daughter. "She'll be glad you're home." You decided to leave out the heartbreaking detail of her tears and broken cries for her father.

"Where's Happy?" He questioned lightly.

"C'mon, I'll tell you on the way." You grabbed Morgan's stuffed Iron Man from the couch and started toward the elevator.

"Happy had to go pick up May. He said she was fine, but it was some sort of emergency." You spoke quietly so as not to disturb Morgan.

"Thank you for watching her." Tony couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face at the thought of you and Morgan being so close. "Even if you kept her up way past her bedtime." He added playfully.

"She was actually asleep when Happy brought her down. He was probably going to take her with him if he couldn't find me." You felt yourself start to smile just from looking at Morgan in Tony's arms.

"What happened?" Your smile fell at the memory of Morgan's tear stained face.

"She had a nightmare. Something about a monster hurting Peter." You couldn't stop your eyes from welling up at the memory of how scared and upset Morgan was. "She's okay now though. We talked to Peter for a while on facetime. Well, Morgan talked to Peter. I just rocked her back and forth so she'd stop crying."

"My poor baby." He pressed a kiss to Morgan's forehead, lingering close to her. "Thank you for helping her with that."

"Of course, Tony. She's a brilliant little girl. You're doing a great job raising her."

You let out a small chuckle when you suddenly realized neither of you pushed the button for the residential floor.

Tony laughed as well when you leaned forward to push the button.

You walked with him to Morgan's room, helping to tuck her and her stuffed toy into bed. Just as you gently closed the door, Tony cleared his throat again.

"Y/N, I really mean it. Thank you for being there for her. It means a lot to me." Tony's face show a rare vulnerable side as he spoke. "You mean a lot to me."

"Oh, Tony. You mean a lot to me too." You glanced back at Morgan's bedroom. "Both of you."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #morgan stark x reader #morgan stark x you #morgan stark x y/n #morgan stark fic #tony stark fic

274 notes · View notes

koutarouthighs · 3 years

Text

『 champagne bubbles 』

S U M M A R Y ― drunken words expose sober thoughts, and what do these boys have to say when their heart is too soaked in liquor to dull their filter?

post type ➺ headcanons fandom ➺ haikyuu!! characters ➺ tsukishima ⧾ kageyama ⧾ atsumu genre ➺ fluff; slight nsfw (sensual themes) tags ➺ established relationship; alcohol; language; pda; lotsa touchy drunk boys; word count ➺ 2.2k+ request ➺ [YES/NO] ; anonymous requested “could you maybe write drunk!tsukki being really sweet to his gf? like calling her pretty and being super sweet?” ↳ request status: *.·:·.✧ O P E N ✧.·:·.*

✕ tsukki doesn’t really like to get drunk, because he’s more of a spectator. he enjoys watching everyone else lose their wits so he can poke fun at them for it, sarcastically asking them a dozen questions just to video their answers to bring it up when they’re sober. ✕ but, with kuroo betting tsukki that he can drink him under the table, his obstinate personality has no option other than to meet his old friend’s challenge. what he doesn’t know is that kuroo never planned to win, not even from the start. ✕ when you see tsukki later, you’re confused with his wobbling frame and garbled words. his eyes seem to cross behind his glasses, and when he approaches you, he’s got his arm around your shoulders in a flash. you’ve never seen him be so publicly affectionate, especially not in front of a group full of his old friends who knew him once as an antagonistic rival. ✕ tsukishima compliments your appearance, your voice, your dress. he talks about how lucky he is to have you and you swear you see his reddened eyes begin to blear with tears. ✕ his hands cannot find a part of you he does not wish to explore further, always seeking but never finding solace. and finally he cups your cheeks and sloppily kisses your mouth, and you are so frozen in your stead that you do not have half a mind to kiss him back.

more below the cut ↯

⧾

“you’re just so pretty,” his voice drawls, eyes blinking slowly as he uses the arm not slung around your body to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. the slightest of pouts tugs on his lips and you want to push yourself up on your toes to kiss him, but you know how he feels about public affection.

a small laugh makes your chest blossom and tsukishima tugs you closer, your body engulfed by his lanky yet thick arms. his bicep flexes as he runs his index and thumb against either side of your neck, “you are! i know i don’t tell you enough, but you are. you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“kei,” you murmur as he drops his head to your shoulder, planting a quick kiss to your exposed collarbone. kuroo and akaashi widen their eyes at the sight, and you try to weave your fingers through tsukishima’s hair to get his attention, “kei, are you drunk?”

“yep!” kuroo’s voice is unmistakable, even from where he and akaashi, and now bokuto, are sitting in the kitchen, swiveling in their barstool seats, giggling to themselves. you narrow your eyes and hope that the glare you cut them is enough to not let them sucker him into anything like this again, knowing how much he will hate finding out about this when he’s sober.

“we can go home,” you murmur in promise against his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling back on your heels. tsukishima kisses the top of your head and wraps you back up again, tucking your head beneath his chin. he sighs, and you feel his chest deflate, “no, i like going out with you. i know i say i hate it, but i like that you want the world to know that you’re mine.”

you tilt your head back, raising a brow, “tsukki, i’m not ashamed of you. never have been.”

“no, i know,” he almost sounds stone cold sober for a second, and you blink to try and make sure you can reconcile what you’re hearing with what you’re seeing. “i just hope you know that i’m not ashamed of you. you’re kickass, and i can’t believe you let me call you mine.”

“of course,” and you feel your own voice growing heady without the influence of whiskey, “i love you.”

tsukishima, drunk or not, reaches down to frame your face with his hands and as if in slow motion, purses his mouth until you feel the bow of his lips meet your own. you flex your feet so you’re up on your toes, face heated at the sudden display of affection, disregard to who might see. his palms are expansive and warm, floating from your neck to your shoulders, down your arms until he finds the curve of your hips. his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt and he sighs, parting his mouth from yours, “tell sober me to appreciate you more. he’s kind of an asshole.”

“yeah,” you lick your lips and read the hunger in his eyes, matching it with a fire in your own, “i’ll make sure to tell him in the morning.”

✕ kageyama believes that alcohol dulls the senses and takes his mind off of what is truly important - the next match. so, it’s kind of difficult to get him to indulge in a drink from time to time. but hinata always manages to spur him on, citing his days in brazil have made him the better consumer, and kageyama just can’t let that redhead best him at anything. ✕ you wish you had the effort to try and deter him from it, but watching kageyama turn loose and enjoy his time with his friends is so elating in it of itself that you don’t have the heart to try and drag him to a glass of water. ✕ your face goes red when kageyama puts down his fourth glass of rum and coke and turns his attention to you. eyes sheathed by half-hooded lids, lower lip consumed in the cage of his canine tooth as he sucks the slow drip of whatever drink did not make it to his tongue. ✕ the praise he dotes on you when he slots himself into the couch next to you is not unwelcome, and yet foreign and uncomfortable all the same. tobio is not unknown to shower you in kindness when you are alone, and when he can gather his words and his spirits, but now, in front of his friends and rivals from high school, it all feels a little out of place. ✕ his hand rests curiously high on your thigh, the other arm around your back to hold you close. he kisses your cheek and then your neck, warm breath smelling of the sweet concoction he’s downed one too many of in your absence.

⧾

“tobi,” you whimper when his thumb drifts against the seam of your jeans, manicured nails digging into the plush of your thigh, “a-are you drunk?”

“so what if i am?” his curt response is quick, just like always. you suppose even when drunk, he’s not completely unlike himself. your gaze meets his darkened irises, pupils dilating as he tries to focus on any one feature of your face. his tone softens as he looks at you a little while longer, “god, you’re beautiful.”

your expression must show how taken aback you are, because tobio’s nose scrunches and he looks like he’s eaten something sour, “have i never told you that before?”

“n-no, you have,” you shake your head to bring your wits about you, “it’s just weird to hear it in front of all your friends.”

kageyama shakes his head and straightens his spine, palm falling down to your shoulders to massage at the blade of your back, “well, it’s the truth. in front of my friends or at home. y-you’re pretty.”

you can’t help but laugh at his wavering voice, another wave of drunkenness bringing out a shy side of him that you’re used to seeing from time to time. you lean across the space between your bodies and press a kiss to his cheek, “you’re adorable, tobi. especially when you’re drunk.”

“d-do you need anything?” he asks, the palm on your thigh finding your hand to squeeze your knuckles between his own, “water? another drink?”

you nod, brushing dark hair back from his face to his ear so you can see his sapphire irises in full, “i could use some water, if you’re getting up. but you don’t have to get me anything, babe.”

tobio is standing to his feet as soon as you finish your sentence, eyes wide and hands still clutching at you, despite the distance, “of course!” and he is gone before you have another moment to draw him back in. biting your lip, you watch as he scrambles about the kitchen, but your attention is drawn away by the other girls sitting on the couch opposite of you.

when kageyama returns, his arms are full, and his mouth is moving as if it were attached to a motor, “i got you two bottles of water and they had a can of that seltzer you like in the fridge so i got that too, and then i know where hinata hides the chocolate so i grabbed you a few pieces and then there’s also an apple in case you get hungry.”

you want to laugh, you desperately want to let your giggles escape, but you tamper them down to take the various items teeming in tobio’s hands. you reach up to cup his cheek, “you really do think of everything, don’t you, kags?”

“for you,” his voice sounds faraway, ethereal, “i’d do anything for you.”

✕ most nights after a long week of training, or a tournament with msby, atsumu spends time with bokuto and hinata and sakusa, and even osamu tags along, and they buy up tumugi, sake, and vodka until they can’t see themselves home. atsumu has the dd or a cab bring him home, and you can always tell by the way his steps stutter over the rug that he’s too far gone to even know you’re home. ✕ atsumu is a clumsy, most of the time loud, drunk. he forgets how lumbering his body is, how much he weighs, and how his head might hit the overhanging light in the living room if he’s not too careful. ✕ as soon as he spots you, curled up on the couch, his whole being softens. he licks his lips and calls your name, eyes shining when you finally make eye contact. he’ll call out for you again, asking for his girl. ✕ atsumu’s hands are insatiable as he fumbles over the top of you from where you lay, tucking his head into your neck and caging you in with his limbs. he likes the reminder of how big he is, how he can encompass your space with minimum effort. he seeks skin on skin contact while he can’t see straight, preferring to close his eyes and just feel you. ✕ he’ll mutter things into your soft skin and slip his hands underneath your shirt, but it’s nothing you haven’t heard already, only accented with giggles and blown raspberries along your body.

⧾

“don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“so what?!” he nips at your jaw, “what are you, my mother?!”

“that would make this a very strange position, wouldn’t it?” you snort, scratching your nails up the base of his back to his shoulders, his shirt riding up inch by inch. atsumu groans, dropping his head to your chest, circling his arms around your waist until he’s clinging onto you for dear life. he sighs and you try your hardest not to shiver at the feel of his warm breath over your bare skin.

he grunts, shifting his legs to get more comfortable, “osamu bet he could do three shots faster than me, and you know i’m the better twin, and i had to prove it, so i did it. and... and now’m here.”

another laugh makes its way out of your throat and you squeeze his shoulders, “that competition is going to get you in trouble one day. you can’t win everything.”

“i don’t gotta win everything,” atsumu licks his lips and takes a breath, craning his neck so he can look you in the eyes, “i already got you, don’t i?” you’re blushing but that doesn’t stop him, not when he’s on a drunken roll like this, “i mean, that’s about the best thing i ever coulda won.”

you twirl a finger in his hair to keep your hands busy, rolling your lips together as he rambles. atsumu pushes himself up further on your body so you’re eye-to-eye, the tip of his nose brushing up your cheek as he gets situated, “cause even when i lose a match, i still get to come home to you.”

the threatening heat of tears makes your eyes throb and you close them to get some relief. atsumu kisses both of your eyelids and then your nose, and your face scrunches at the overwhelming smell of vodka on his lips, but you don’t care, not when he’s being so kind and genuine. he cups your face with a palm, heady and calloused, and then kisses your cheek until your skin relaxes. he chuckles, “i mean it, sweetheart.”

“i know you do, ‘sumu,” your voice is thick and you clear your throat just after you speak. you finally peek your eyes open to look at him, and you almost wished you hadn’t. his umber irises melt into dark pupils, a warmth there that you cannot place, cannot describe. his skin is rosy, kissed by alcohol and emotion, and you just want to drown in him.

he noses your cheek and then captures your lips, soft kisses volleyed back and forth between the two of you as your hands roam and find supple skin and dense bone. lines blur between evening and morning, and words slur between the both of you.

and every time, as one breath ends and another begins, atsumu makes sure to show you that his words ring true, and his greatest win was always you.

478 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Somebody Else

Draco Malfoy x Reader, Ron Weasley

Summary: When Draco shows up on your doorstep, he finds you’ve already found somebody else.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: breakups, angst, mentions of anxiety, bit of fluff

A/N: This is the first fic of my 1975 collection! Lyrics are bolded and italicized, as well as flashbacks. I hope you enjoy!

So I heard you found somebody else

And at first I thought it was a lie

The cracked pavement beneath Draco’s feet had been wet from the steady rain coming down that day, the cold droplets splashing in every direction under his hurried footfalls as he continued on down the sidewalk of the small town. Your small town.

His hands had been stuffed hastily into the pockets of his jacket, fists clenching and releasing in a relentless pattern of nervous habit having gone unseen to just everyone else around him. His mind was stuck on every single possibility that could happen in a matter of minutes, replaying in a loop. He thought of everything he might say, everything he wants to say—everything he might do, everything he wants to do.

The weather seemed to have matched his mood perfectly; cold and rainy, gloomy and dark though he still held a shred of hope within his chest that this wasn’t just a hopeless effort as he’d heard it would be. As he’d been told that it would be. The thought of you having moved on with someone else was one of a nightmare, something that made his stomach churn and twist in knots if he allowed himself to linger on the subject for even just a second. He supposes it wouldn’t be entirely unexpected if you had, he just hoped that you hadn’t, and he knows it’s selfish to think.

But now, as he walks along in a place amongst unfamiliar faces, he begins to worry more and more. His nerves begin to spark and his mind begins to wander to that very night that he’d surely never forget. The night he regrets more than most anything, wishing he hadn’t said the very things he’d said, wishing he could take each and every single one back. But he can’t.

The Hogwarts library had been rather dark that night, the constant clouds outside sweeping over the moon having stolen its light every other moment as the wind continued to blow strongly. Worry had been pooling in your stomach as you sat with Draco at a table tucked amongst tightly packed shelves in the heart of the library. You could tell it must not have been anything good.

“Draco?” You ask softly, placing a hand in his arm.

He tenses beneath your touch, the conflict he’d held within himself only worsening at the soft action. He looks at you, his fingers splaying overtop your wrist as he envelopes it for a moment, only a moment before he pulls your hand away from him gently. The look on your face nearly tore him to shreds when he’d done so, and he couldn’t help but to let the tips of his fingers linger on your skin for a few seconds more as if it’d make things better. He doesn’t want to let go, he never wants to let you go. But he has to.

His heart pounds heavily, so much so he found it impossible that you couldn’t hear it in the quiet of the library. Draco is quite sure he’d never been so nervous, never been so distraught in his life up until that very moment in time.

His hand trembled when he pulled his hand away, and he swallowed thickly. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

The words were quiet, near whispers as he said them aloud, his quivering voice betraying any sense of confidence he’d tried to maintain with you. Your brows furrow immediately as the words fall from his lips and your mouth falls open slightly, closing once more as you try and process just what he’d said. You didn’t understand it, not really. He had been fine all week, had been fine the previous day for that matter. You were utterly confused and you hated the way the hurt had begun to pool in your stomach as you sat with him, the feeling heavy and inescapable.

“What?” That’s all you can manage to say as you think over his words, of what his reasoning could possibly be.

“It’s for your own good,” he states, averting his gaze from you otherwise he just might crumble. He watched as the crease between your brows deepens in your displeasure. “It’s safer this way.”

“Safer?” You repeat quickly, your gaze narrowed at him. “From who, your father?”

His jaw tenses at your change in tone, and he dreads the way your voice is on the very edge of failing you should you continue to speak. At the way you move away from him a fraction, unnoticeable to most but having felt as though it was worlds apart to him. Your eyes began to sting with the burn of your tears pressing just behind your eyes, and your heart had been racing in your chest as you sat in the hardwood chair.

It felt as though the room was beginning to spin, as if the temperature had increased several degrees despite the cold draft seeping in through the old windows. A part of you had wished this would be some sort of foolish joke, that it wasn’t real. But you could tell by the look on his face, conflicted and flushed, that it wasn’t fake. Could tell by the very way he could barely meet your eyes.

“You don’t understand, Y/n—”

“Make me understand.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, you hadn’t meant to speak so quickly, but you wanted desperately to know just what had been so bothersome that he’d felt he couldn’t even give you a reason for breaking up with you. You deserved that much—with the way your heart had been cracking with every silent moment passing, with the way it felt as though the breath was stolen from your lungs. You deserved a simple explanation.

He looked away from you then, his inner turmoil becoming far too obvious for his own good. He couldn’t tell you, couldn’t tell you just what kind of ultimatum his father had cast upon him without so much as a second thought about it. Lucius Malfoy could be terribly cruel if it meant he could gain from it, no matter if it’d hurt his only son. Hurt feelings and the thought of young love were of no importance to him, and if he wanted his way, he was sure to get it. It wasn’t something Draco could ignore, and it was something he found himself wanting to keep a secret forever.

He didn’t want to tell you of the night before the first day of seventh year. He knew about you, of course he did. Draco wasn’t as careful as he should have been running around the gardens with you in the late hours of the night. He wasn’t careful because he was foolishly in love, and when he was with you his mind paid no heed to the consequences of being with you on the grounds of the manor. He hadn’t seen that his father had caught sight of the two of you hand in hand by a crumbling stone statue.

All he knew was that his father had appeared in the doorway of his bedroom that night as he’d packed his belongings for his final school year. Draco could tell by the look on his face that he knew, could tell by the very sneer he held when he spoke so vaguely of you yet so specific of just who he’d been talking about. It was clear his father hadn’t approved of you, for you were openly and adamantly against everything Lucius had strived so desperately to be. He knew of it and he knew his son was in love with you, and that had been a problem for him, one he made very well known as he spoke to Draco that night although the blonde didn’t need an explanation to know just how he’d felt about it.

So, as Draco sat there with you, he found he hadn’t wanted to tell you just why he couldn’t be with you. Couldn’t tell you just how rudely his father had spoken of you that very night before his mother had ceased the conversation. It was a conversation he felt best kept to himself and never to be spoken of again. He spent two months longer with you sneaking around in the shadows of corridors in hours far too late at night, two months longer than he should have because he just couldn’t part from you. But now he knows he can’t keep doing so for your sake.

“Draco,” you repeat, your voice wavering as you took a deep breath and pulled him from his thoughts.

He brings himself to lift his gaze and look at you, at the single tear that’d spilled over your cheek and the others that threatened to follow. He brings his hand to settle on your cheek, his thumb swiping over it and brushing away the tears in a featherlight touch. You grabbed his hand softly before you could find yourself leaning into his palm, pulling it away and releasing it before you found yourself unable to let go.

“Tell me, Draco.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes welling once more as his lip quivered under the weight of his tears.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, voice just above a whisper. He was too worried to defy his fathers wishes, too fearful of what would happen to you. “I can’t.”

You look away from him as your heart sinks, nodding your head as you take another breath and let your eyes fall closed for a moment. You sat there for a few fleeting seconds, quiet and somber before you gathered yourself, looking at him once more.

“I—I should go now,” you manage to say, rising from your chair as he finds himself at a loss for what to say.

It remains that way as you brush past him, only letting your tears fall once your back was to the blonde. He had reached his hand out to you when you’d already been too far, standing to his feet as he watched after you, watching as you rushed down an aisle of tattered and dusty books before leaving him to stand there by himself. Leaving him having no knowledge of just why he’d broken your heart.

He shook his head to try and rid himself of the unpleasant thought that stuck in his mind, running a hand through his hair before letting it fall back to his side once more. The coldness of the wind had helped to keep him in the current moment as he walked along the sidewalk of the small neighborhood. It was rather welcoming, actually, no two homes having been even remotely the same though bursts of color from various flowers seemed to be quite universal. He supposes he could have just apparated, supposes it would have been faster. But he found even having walked was not a great enough distance to prepare himself for this. He felt not even traveling across the country would give him enough time to think about it.

His heart began to race as he approached the familiar looking home, a small cottage tucked away within trees and unkempt bushes of flowers. A for sale sign had been stuck on the edge of the front yard, a sticker with bold red words reading ‘sold’ having been stamped across it. Panic had surged through him as he saw the warm lighting filter outside through the chilled window panes. You were home, someone was home; he could no longer use that as an excuse to turn around and leave, to back out and try again some other day.

Draco’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches for the wooden gate, opening the tarnished metal latch with hesitancy as he looks up the crooked stone path. His mind is going a mile a minute as he stands before the home, seemingly having forgotten any and all the things he’d thought about saying for days, weeks, months on end. He was so overwhelmed with this, that, and the next thing he barely registered that he’d crossed the threshold of the fence. The gate clicks behind him and his fists begin to clench and let go once more as he exhales a shaky breath.

It wasn’t until he had made it just halfway up the small walkway that he’d seen. It wasn’t until he saw you that his heart skipped a beat. He supposes it should have been a relief to see he’d gotten the right address, to see you after nearly ten years apart since he last spoke to you in that library. But it could only have been so much.

He stood still in the rain, stopped in his tracks as it’s drizzling shower icy and cold as it pelted down upon him relentlessly and soaked through his clothes. It wasn’t the inclement weather that bothered him in that moment. It wasn’t the wind whipping around him. It was the way his heart ached and squeezed uncomfortably in his chest as his gaze fell upon the fogged window.

For there you were, radiant and glowing amongst the dreary and darkening weather. There you were dancing contently within the arms of somebody else, in the arms of the redhead he’s grown up with, and you were safe and sound and as happy as you should be. As happy as he could hope you’d be.

I hate to think about you with somebody else

He watched with dread as you danced together, as you twirled and you fell back into his arms with a laughter he knew would break him if he heard it once more. The moment before him was one he once shared with you in the shadowed and vacant gardens of his parents estate amongst flowers and twinkling stars. A moment he felt he should have cherished more than he did then, one permanently remaining as a memory. They were memories that would come to taunt him for the rest of his life as long as his mind will allow it. He knew they would.

He saw the way you looked at him, eyes bright and smile beaming as if he’d been the only one in the world. A gaze that held the utmost of love, a smile that was just as soft and telling of your feelings. He knows because you used to look at him that way, you used to smile at him that way. And he knows by that very thing that you truly love him, you are utterly in love with him.

Before him he sees a home, one emanating absolute warmth and love and everything you had desired to have since you were seventeen years old. You could never shut up about it once you’d started talking of it; it was everything you wanted and more. It was everything you’d dreamed of as he stood there and watched from the sidelines.

It feels as though the very breath had been stolen from his lungs, as though his heart stilled in his chest. He supposes he should be angry, he is angry, but he gets it. He supposes he should be jealous, and he is, but he knows. He can tell by the very way you look at him, by the way Ron looks at you. And it was the very same way he looked at you. He knows you’ve found the one, your other half, and no matter how much he wished it’d been him he knows he couldn’t give you what you deserve.

Our love has gone cold

You’re intertwinin’ your soul with somebody else

He knew then that it was foolish to come there, it was a wasted effort as everyone had said. He knew then that there was nothing left. He knew that very night, in that library, he’d made one of his biggest mistakes in letting you go. He sees the unpacked boxes and the sold sign in the yard, he sees the little yellow car and the happy couple before him. You’ve found your love, your best friend. Someone who will love you and give you the safety he knew he couldn’t.

So, he looks at you one more time. At your smile and the happiness radiating off your every feature. He looks at you once more and turns on his heel, rain pounding heavily against his shoulders as he walks away from the little stone cottage, tears pressing behind his eyes and his fists tightening within his pockets. Amongst his sorrows, he finds himself relieved. He may have felt as though the ginger boy was his enemy for the better part of his childhood, but he knows he’s not. He knows he’s quite the opposite, he’s taking care of the love of his life after all. As much as that may hurt, as much as that may tear him apart.

As much as he hates to see you with somebody else, knows you’re better off.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @lunalovecroft @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lilypad-55449

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco fic #ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley one shot

124 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH9

This is the first new chapter! Every last bit of it has never been read before (except by me and my betas)! What nefarious schemes will Adrien and Chloe try? Find out below!

Previous First Next AO3

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

Chapter 9: Emperor’s New Clothes

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Adrien asked as Chloe adjusted her wig. He peeked over the railing to the courtyard below with a frown. All of their classmates were gathered, enjoying their break—completely unsuspecting of what was about to commence.

“Of course it’ll work. These people are idiots who will believe anything.” Chloe snapped her compact shut and tossed it into her purse. “If they had any sort of intelligence, they would have seen right through Lila by now.”

“Yeah, but what if they-” Chloe pressed a finger to his lips.

“Just leave this to me, Adrikins. Being mean isn’t exactly your area of expertise.” She patted his cheek. “Little Miss Lie-la is about to be exposed. Now get into position!”

Adrien swallowed hard before climbing down the stairs to stand by the science lab door. Even though he agreed to help Chloe get back at Lila, he wasn’t entirely ready to deal with the guilt that came with it. Lila was a menace, and her lies needed to stop—that much Adrien could agree with, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his skin crawl.

To justify going through with it, he reminded himself why he’d agreed to help in the first place. Marinette didn’t deserve to be pushed away from her friends, and freeing them from Lila’s grasp would help her move on. This was for Marinette, and on those terms only, he could accept it.

“Hello, everyone! It’s me, your favorite superheroine, Ladybug!” Chloe called into the courtyard as she descended the stairs, and every head turned to face her.

“Is that Ladybug?”

“It is Ladybug!”

“Is there an akuma?”

Adrien hung back with a wince as a crowd gathered around her. This was for Marinette. Lila needed to be stopped. He agreed to this.

“Yo, Ladybug, what are you doing here?” Nino asked.

Chloe placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood being a super amazing superheroine and protecting Paris from akumas, and I thought I’d stop in and visit my bff. So where exactly is Lila Rossi?” Chloe pressed a hand over her eyes and scanned the courtyard.

“She’s over here!” Alya waved. Despite Lila’s best efforts to shrink behind Alya, her new bestie wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to talk to Ladybug.

“Ah, there you are, my bff. It’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other. You remember? That time I saved your life, and we became instant bffs?” Chloe crossed her fingers. “You haven’t returned my calls, so I was starting to get worried.”

“Lila’s been out of the country until recently, and she’s been super busy catching up on school ever since she got back,” Alya explained. She patted Lila’s shoulder with a beam, and Lila offered a sheepish grin in return.

“Uh, yeah…” Lila’s face blanched.

They had her cornered. This was actually working! Maybe Adrien wouldn’t have to get involved after all.

“Oh, right, you went to Achu to visit Prince Ali. Funny though, I talked to Prince Ali yesterday—his assistant wanted to make sure that Paris was safe for his upcoming visit, so naturally they called me—I asked him how your visit went, and he didn’t remember inviting you to come to his palace.” Chloe cupped her cheek in one hand. “How weird is that?”

“Wait, what?” Everyone turned to look at Lila who stiffened, and a smirk curled on Chloe’s lips.

“But you were gone for over a month, Lila. I thought you said Prince Ali invited you to come stay with him,” Rose said. She hugged her scrapbook full of Prince Ali magazine clippings to her chest.

“He did!”

“But Ladybug just said he didn’t.” Alix crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, she must be mistaken,” Lila said. “I’m your friend. Why would I lie to you?”

“Ladybug is a superhero. She’d never lie to us either.”

“What’s the truth then?”

“Yeah, Lila, tell us the truth.” Chloe egged. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to hear it from someone else? I’ve got a pretty killer witness. Adrikins, be a dear and come over here.”

Adrien hesitated, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t go through with this. Even though Lila deserved it, he couldn’t bring himself to call her out like this in front of everyone. There had to be another way.

“Wait a second, Adrikins?” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we have to wonder who’s telling the truth, do we, Chloe?”

“What? I’m not Chloe! She has way better hair than I, Ladybug, do. Plus she’s way funnier, prettier, smarter, and hey!” She spun around as Kim ripped off her wig.

“Ugh, we should have known,” Alya said. “You’re just upset because Lila beat you for class rep. Honestly, Chloe, grow up!”

“Yeah, Chloe, this is super lame.”

“Why do you always gotta pick on people?”

“You just can’t stand that someone’s getting more attention than you.”

Chloe shot Adrien a cutting glare as if to say, “Get out here and do your part,” but Adrien shot her an apologetic wince before ducking into the science lab.

“What are you doing? You can still stop that girl,” Plagg said when Adrien pulled his shirt aside.

“I panicked. I don’t want it to go down like this,” Adrien said. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I just can’t do it.”

“So you’re just going to let her keep using everyone?” Plagg asked.

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Transform me!”

“Nice try, Chloe, but Lila won fair and square,” Nino said when Chat Noir landed in the courtyard.

Chloe blew a piece of hair from her face grumpily. “You all are so stupid if you actually believe anything she says. Even Dupain-Cheng realized she was a liar. I don’t want to be your class representative anyway. You’re all so lame.”

“The only liar here is you, Ladybug,” Alix said, and Kim waved her black wig over her head tauntingly.

“Lila is a liar! Ask Adrien. He can tell you!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed an angry red.

“Dude, leave Adrien alone.” Nino groaned, shaking his head. “Just admit you’re jealous, so we can all go home.”

“I’m really sorry if I’ve upset you, Chloe. If you want, I can talk to Mlle. Bustier about letting you be the class rep instead if it means so much to you. I don’t want us to fight,” Lila said humbly.

“Liar!” Chloe stomped her foot.

“I’m not lying! I promise,” Lila said. She held up her right hand for emphasis.

“Oh really?” Every head turned around as Chat Noir laid his staff across his shoulders.

“Yo, it’s Chat Noir! Like for real this time!”

“What are you doing here, Chat Noir?” Alya pulled out her phone to record.

“I heard that m’lady was making a house call, so I thought I’d come by and make sure everything was in order.” He cast a smirk in Chloe’s direction. “But it looks like someone just wanted to play dress-up.”

Goading Chloe probably wasn’t his smartest move, seeing as she was absolutely going to kill Adrien for chickening out, but he needed everyone on his side. Taking cheap shots at Chloe was always an instant crowd-pleaser.

“So, since you’re so honest, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?” he asked Lila. “Now would be a good time to get anything that your friends don’t know about you off your chest.”

She didn’t seem deterred by his presence at all, eyes glinting with amusement. Chat Noir bristled, grip tightening on his staff. Lila held no remorse for any of her actions, and she’d cling to her lies until the very end. Chat Noir bit his tongue hard as she turned to everyone else and plastered on a pout.

“There is something I want to tell all of you…” She clasped her hands over her heart. “I’ve been hesitant because I know you all have mixed feelings, but I think Marinette is behind all of this.”

“What?” Chat Noir and Chloe said in unison.

“Why do you say that, Lila?” Alya asked.

“Well, the other day on my way home I saw Chloe going to Marinette’s house, and now she’s here calling me a liar just like Marinette used to do,” Lila said, letting her face fall into her hands. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve to be treated this way.”

Everyone crowded closer to her offering their sympathy as alligator tears rolled down her cheeks, and a host of cutting glares aimed at Chloe. They should have planned for something like this. Lila always bent the truth to suit herself.

Rage boiled in Chat’s core, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to tackle Lila to the ground. How could anyone be so despicable?

“Hang on,” he said firmly, forcing his shoulders to relax. “I’ve met Marinette a few times, and she doesn’t seem like that type of girl.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s true either, Lila,” Alix spoke up. “I mean, Chloe and Marinette hate each other. Chloe would rather die than set foot in her house.”

Alya pursed her lips and turned to Chloe. “Is it true? Did you go to Marinette’s house?”

Chloe averted her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to see Dupain-Cheng at her tiny, disgusting hovel, but…she refused to help me—stupid little goody-two-shoes,” Chloe said. She met Alya’s gaze head-on and squared her jaw. “But with friends like you, I’m starting to see why she left. She was nothing but nice to you losers, and yet you’d so easily believe that she’d help me get back at someone. You’re all so pathetic.”

“The only pathetic one here is you, Chloe. Lila’s never done anything. None of us have! We’re sick and tired of putting up with your crud,” Nathaniel said, and several classmates echoed their agreement.

“Whatever. I don’t want to be your class representative anyway if you’re all too stupid to tell the difference between a diamond and a lump of coal.” Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder, hips swaying as she stalked to the locker room.

Chat Noir almost chased after her, but his staff beeped with a message from Ladybug. There was an akuma across town. Chloe was going to have to wait.

♪♫♪ Broken Pieces Shine ♪♫♪

Marinette chewed her pencil, tilting her head to examine her designs from different angles. Clara’s deadline was still several weeks away, but she already had tons of ideas. Would Clara like a tasteful pantsuit or a flowing gown? Which one said ‘award-winner?’ Maybe if she added a sash or changed up the neckline…

The lunchroom bustled several simultaneous conversations, condensed into a uniform hum in Marinette’s ears while she worked. She was vaguely aware of her friends at the table with her, but when Macy leaned in to get a closer look at what she was working on, she still jumped.

“Ooo, are those for you-know-who?” she asked.

“Shh!” Marinette covered her sketchbook and glanced around to ensure no one had overheard. “Yes, but they’re not final. I’m just playing around with some ideas.”

“I like them,” Macy said. “Look at this one, Eliott. Eliott?”

He was unusually quiet that day, but Marinette had been too enthralled in her own work to notice. His nose was buried in a booklet, seemingly as engrossed in it as Marinette had been with her designs. He only looked up when Macy stuck her hand in front of his face.

“What?” He blinked.

“Marinette is designing top-secret things, and she needs opinions,” Macy said.

“Can’t you ask Martin?” he asked.

Macy gave him an incredulous look. “Martin left 10 minutes ago to go work with his group on their science project. Weren’t you listening?” She scolded. Though in Eliott’s defense, Marinette hadn’t noticed either.

“Oh, sorry. Guess I was distracted.” He closed the cover but marked the page with his finger. “So what do you need?”

Macy shook her head, taking a bite of her cake. “You two are such space cadets today.”

“What are you studying, Eliott?” Marinette asked. She tilted her head to get a better look at the cover.

“I’m in a community play, and we have rehearsal tonight,” he said nonchalantly.

“Wow, that’s so awesome! What part did you get?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special…” Eliott sat back with a smirk and shrugged.

“He’s being modest. He’s playing one of the leads, and he’s super excited about it. He memorized his lines in like 3 days, but he always reads over the script again before rehearsals.” Macy finished her cake and stood up. “I’m gonna get another drink. Help Marinette with her designs!”

“Fine, but can you get me a slice of that cake, please?” Eliott requested. He pressed his palms together with a smile. Macy rolled her eyes but headed for the dessert stand anyway.

“So, you got a lead role. What play are you guys doing?” Marinette asked, and Eliott tossed her the script.

Miraculous! The Battle of Heroes’ Day

“Oh, so it’s about Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Marinette said with as much casualty as she could muster. “Wait, if you’re playing a lead role then that means…”

“You guessed it, m’lady.” He winked.

Marinette bit back a laugh. The director definitely cast the right person. Put Eliott in a blond wig, and even she’d believe he was Chat Noir.

“That’s so awesome! When is it opening? I’d love to come watch.” She passed back the script, and he found his page again.

“Not for a couple more weeks, but if you want, I can see about getting you into one of our dress rehearsals soon,” he offered.

“Really? Yeah, I’d love to.”

Macy returned with Eliott’s slice of cake, but not before Gabrielle locked on target. “Did you save any cake for the rest of us? No wonder your uniform looks so tight these days.”

When Macy froze, Marinette turned to Gabrielle with a glare. “She got it for Eliott because some people don’t spend all of their time thinking about themselves.”

“I think about other people all the time,” Gabrielle said with a wicked grin. “I’ve actually been feeling sorry for Macy after Simon rejected her three weeks ago. If only she were prettier, then maybe Eliott would be more than just a friend.”

“Eliott and I aren’t like that.” Macy shot back.

“Clearly,” Gabrielle said with a grunt. “Tell me, Eliott. Have you ever thought about dating Macy?”

“Well, no, but-”

Gabrielle threw her head back with a laugh, and Macy’s cheeks flushed a deep red. She stormed from the cafeteria, tears bubbling in her eyes. Gabrielle watched her go with a triumphant smirk that made Marinette’s blood boil.

“You should go after her,” Marinette said to Eliott.

“Trust me, she doesn’t want to see me after that.” He shrugged and returned to his script.

“How can you say that? She’s your best friend, and best friends should always be there for each other no matter what!” Marinette slammed her palm on the table, but when Eliott refused to look at her, her jaw clenched. “You’re wrong. I think you’re the exact person Macy wants to see right now.” She didn’t wait for his reply before gathering her sketchbook and chasing after Macy.

The halls were empty and quiet, the chorus of chatter from the cafeteria fading as Marinette raced down the stairs. Macy was nowhere in sight, and Marinette didn’t know where to begin looking for her. After a week, Marinette was still learning her way around—not to mention still learning her new friends.

If it were Alya, Marinette knew exactly where to look, which treat from the bakery would always cheer her up, and as a last resort, where she was ticklish. She didn’t have those ins with Macy yet.

Eliott would know.

Eliott… How could he sit by while his friend was upset? Didn’t he care about her at all? If they really were best friends, then why didn’t he stand up for her and believe her when she said she was hurt? It was so obvious that Gabrielle just wanted attention. How could he let her come between them? Why did he let her walk away? Shouldn’t he chase after his best friend and make sure she was okay? Isn’t that what friends were supposed to do?

Marinette leaned against a row of lockers, shoulders heaving and tears stinging her eyes. Wasn’t she a good friend? Didn’t she always take care of everyone? So why would they turn their backs on her? How could they leave her all alone?

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s blazer.

Marinette sat on the floor with a sigh, resting her head against the lockers. “It just gets so hard,” she whispered. “Always being there for everyone. Being the one to fix everything for everyone. Sometimes I just wonder… who will be there to fix me when I need it?”

“You’ve got me,” Tikki said. She floated up to nuzzle Marinette’s cheek. “And your parents, Master Fu, Adrien.”

Marinette smiled at that, petting Tikki’s bulbous head with one finger. “Thanks, Tikki. I needed a friend.”

Screams echoed up the hall, and Marinette jumped to her feet. Shaking off the last of her doubts, she slapped her cheeks and took a deep breath. She wasn’t alone, and she would make sure her friends never were either.

“That sounded like it came from the cafeteria. I think it’s safe to say we know where Macy is,” Marinette said. “Transform me!”

Terrified teens with crooked teeth and unibrows rushed past as Ladybug entered the cafeteria. All around the room, her classmates cowered from the akuma zeroing in on Gabrielle in the center. Macy had become the perfect porcelain doll carrying a mirror in her hands—no doubt where the akuma was hiding.

Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Gabrielle’s shoulders and tugged her to safety, even if she deserved whatever punishment Macy was about to give her. “Get somewhere safe,” she ordered.

“Duh,” Gabrielle said. Ever the gracious one.

“You’re welcome.” Ladybug rolled her eyes as Gabrielle raced off.

With Gabrielle out of the way, the akuma settled for Thomas. She held her mirror in front of him, and his handsome face broke out in angry red zits. The misshapen students fleeing the cafeteria all made sense. Gabrielle told Macy she wasn’t attractive, so now she was making everyone else look the part instead.

“You shouldn’t have let her get away, Ladybug. I think everyone here would like to know what she’s ashamed of,” the akuma said.

While that much might have been true, Ladybug wasn’t in the business of agreeing with one of Hawkmoth’s villains. “Revenge is never the answer, Macy. You’re better than this. Let me help you.”

“I’m not Macy anymore. My name is Mirror-Mirror!” she shouted. Her glassy eyes bore all of her pain, the real Macy screaming inside. “If you want to help me, then give me your Miraculous!”

Ladybug dodged her strike, flipping backward onto a table. Mirror-Mirror wasted no time charging in again and again, the destructive force of her anguish taking its toll on the cafeteria. It was impossible to get a hit in edgewise without seeing herself in the mirror, and Chat Noir hadn’t turned up yet.

“Kitty, I’m battling an akuma, and I really need your help! Where are you?” Ladybug spoke into her yoyo phone. Looks like she’d have to navigate this one on her own. “Lucky Charm!”

A slingshot seemed straight forward enough, but what could she use as ammo? Nothing stood out, and in her moment of distraction, she barely dodged a flying table. Her lucky charm skittered across the floor as she stumbled into her landing, and Mirror-Mirror closed in.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, what darkest fears hide in us all?”

“No!” Ladybug tried to shield her face, but it was too late. Her eyes locked with her reflection, and she sank to her knees, all of the fight leaving her body.

What was happening? Everyone else got pimples or big feet, so why couldn’t she move? If Macy’s mirror made everyone unattractive, then why? Why did she feel so…helpless?

What darkest fears hide in us all?

Of course! Her mirror didn’t just make people unattractive. It turned them into the thing they’re most ashamed of—the parts of themselves they hid from the world. And what was Ladybug ashamed of? Failing? Perhaps. Having her identity exposed? Probably.

But as Mirror-Mirror reached for her earrings, their eyes locked, and she saw what she truly feared. The mirror didn’t take her powers. It took her will to fight. More than anything she wanted to save Macy. To save Alya. Her friends. Everyone. But her legs refused to move.

Ladybug’s greatest fear wasn’t losing. It was being powerless to help the people she loved most.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered, head falling.

Mirror-Mirror’s fingers closed around her earrings, but before she could remove them, Chat Noir’s staff struck her side, sending her flying into the wall.

“Ladybug!” He rushed to her side. “Sorry it took so long, m’lady. Are you alright?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Chat Noir cast a nervous glance at Mirror-Mirror as she stood up. “Come on. We’ve gotta move.”

“I can’t,” Ladybug repeated.

“Are you hurt?” Chat Noir bent one of her knees. “M’lady? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t save her, Chat Noir.”

He searched her expression before scooping her up and leaping out of the way of another attack. He set her down gently and brandished his staff. Would he leave her one day too? What if she couldn’t protect him either?

No. That was ridiculous. Chat Noir would always have her back.

You thought Alya would have your back too. Look how that turned out.

That was different. Lila was manipulating her.

Who’s to say a villain couldn’t do the same to Chat Noir? He could turn his back on you.

He wouldn’t.

But he could.

Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut, pushing against the darkness clouding her mind. Ever since she became Ladybug, she’d always relied on her head to get through tough situations. Now even her own thoughts were working against her. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Macy needed her help. She needed to save her friends.

Mirror-Mirror kicked Chat Noir in the gut, spreading him on his back. His staff rolled into Ladybug’s feet as Mirror-Mirror closed in. She needed to help him, but her legs wouldn’t budge. Her lucky charm was only a few yards away. If she moved now, she could reach it before Mirror-Mirror changed Chat Noir too.

But what was the point? Even if she did reach it in time, she still hadn’t figured out what to do with it. This battle was over.

“Hey, Macy!” Eliott stood in the doorway, shoulders squared and head high. His hands were balled into tight fists to hide how they shook as he approached.

Ladybug assumed he ran away after getting zapped just like everyone else, but he looked completely normal. She hadn’t seen him since she left to find Macy, so he should have been in the cafeteria when Mirror-Mirror first attacked. Had he gone to look for Macy after all?

Mirror-Mirror abandoned Chat Noir, freeing him to rush to Ladybug’s side. He retrieved her lucky charm on the way and placed it in her hands. “Come on, Ladybug. Think.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you earlier,” Eliott said, and when she raised her mirror, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Go ahead if it will make you feel better, but it’s not going to do you any good.”

When Eliott remained unchanged, she lowered the mirror with a growl. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Because I’m already the thing I’m most ashamed of,” Eliott said. “I was a bad friend to you, and that hurts me more than anything else ever could. Marinette was right. Friends should never turn their backs on one another, and that’s why I’m never going to abandon you again.”

“LB.” Chat Noir placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here. What do you need?”

Eliott hadn’t abandoned Macy, and Chat Noir wasn’t abandoning her. Not all friendships were destined to fail. So long as she held onto her faith in the people she loved, everything would be alright.

Ladybug turned the slingshot over in her hands. If she combined it with Chat Noir’s staff… She loaded the slingshot and aimed for the pillar diagonally across from them. The staff ricocheted off the wall, soaring right into the mirror. The glass shattered, and a black butterfly fluttered out.

Chat Noir pulled her to her feet, and she captured the akuma with one swipe of her yoyo. She took a deep breath as Miraculous Ladybug returned everything to normal, the last traces of her insecurities fading. When Chat Noir offered her a fist, she stretched up to hug his neck instead—he didn’t complain.

As Hawkmoth’s magic faded, Macy collapsed forward into Eliott’s arms. “What happened?” she groaned.

“You were akumatized, but I’ve got you,” he said gently.

Students filed back into the cafeteria, cheering for another victory over Hawkmoth. Gabrielle stood at the back of the crowd, arms crossed over her chest, and Eliott eyed her with a frown.

“I know I should have stood up for you, but Gabrielle didn’t let me finish,” he said. “You’re not just a friend to me, Macy. You’re my family, so of course I’ve never thought of you that way.” When Gabrielle rolled her eyes, he continued, “I think this has shown us that we all have things about ourselves that we don’t like, and just because I’ve never seen you that way doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re really beautiful, Mace.”

Macy hugged his neck, prompting more cheers from their classmates. Ladybug and Chat Noir used the noise as cover to slip silently out the door.

♪♫♪ Stall Me ♪♫♪

The day was over when Adrien made it back to school. Most of the students had already gone home, and he believed Chloe had too until he rounded the corner to his locker. He was going to have to face her eventually, though he hoped to delay it a while longer.

She didn’t say anything, but he knew that look all too well. Arms crossed, hip cocked, lips pursed. It was the same look she gave her butler when he took too long to bring her sushi, and Adrien lowered his head like a puppy awaiting a scolding.

“Chloe, I-”

“Oh, now you want to speak.” She quirked a brow.

“I’m sorry!”

“What happened?” She demanded. “I needed your help, and you didn’t have my back. We could have exposed her!”

He averted his gaze. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?”

“It just didn’t feel right. I panicked.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Next time I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Next time? No one in this school is going to believe anything we say about her now because you chickened out!” She jabbed his chest with her finger. “I hope your conscience is happy. You made me look ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Maybe I should leave like Dupain-Cheng.”

“Chloe-”

“No! No more excuses. If you really want to stop Lila, then call me when you’re actually ready to do something,” Chloe said. With a flip of her ponytail, she shoved past him.

Adrien leaned against his locker with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Mirror-Mirror didn’t have to show him what he was ashamed of—he already knew. He was a coward, and now everything was ruined.

#mdcsp #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #my writing

114 notes · View notes

sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

What if...? Part 8

Yeah, so we ended up with 9 parts (plus possibly an epilogue, depending on how long 9 turns out) instead of 4... or 5... or 7/8... As I said; I’ve given up restraining this story as you lovely, lovely enablers kept throwing encouraging fuel to the writing fire and muse molotovs at me. The comments and reblogs are cat nip to a writer and I am a weak, weak soul who can only say; thank you so much <3

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8

Davarax has to be tired and Dulsissia can see places on his underarmor that is scorched and torn, which tells her he probably has new scars to join his old ones, but he ignores it all in favour of catching up with what has happened in the children’s lives.

Paz doesn’t seem to mind the others bombarding him with questions too, especially about the helmet, he’s grown even taller and seem to have gained some muscle, but Dulsissia feels a tiny twinge in her heart at that he also seem more quiet and subdued than before.

Maybe it is just the side-effect of having spent over a year with his father that close? Maybe things will become more normal now that Paz is back with the other children? Dulsissia hopes so. But she wouldn’t place any credits on it.

It’s surprisingly difficult to let go of them when the time comes, so Dulsissia aims the words to herself as much as the children when she explains that Davarax and Paz need to rest for a bit. And, yeah, get cleaned up. But how about they have a welcome home meal later?

It’s a bittersweet event. Dulsissia wants to kick herself when she watches Paz sit by the table and be unable to eat anything. His t-visor rests occasionally on the food, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Needing to distract herself from the sight, Dulsissia turns to Barthor. “Can you hand me the water, baby?”

Sighing as if greatly put upon, Barthor reaches out and hands her the water pitcher. “You know, I’m going to be the next to get the helmet. I’m not a baby, so maybe not refer to me as one?”

A completely irrational burst of anger flares up inside her and Dulsissia snaps her fingers at him. “Hey.” She snaps her fingers at the rest of them, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’m going to make something perfectly clear here and now. You? You are all my babies. All of you. I don’t care how old you are, how many helmets you put on, whatever right or wrong you do, whether you’re fifty and have babies of your own, even grandbabies, I don’t care; I’m going to call you my babies. Deal with it.”

Barthor flushes a deep red, Din blinks wide-eyed, Raga shrugs and Corin merely keeps eating as he resigned himself to his fate years ago. Paz… She has no idea how he responds. He looks at her, but the helmet hides his expression and he remains silent.

“I assume that includes me as well then?” Davarax drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Since you said ‘all of you’? Nice. I’m going to be the first baby ever with stubbles.”

That has the children laughing and Dulsissia to be the one blushing. She gathers herself and looks directly into his t-visor. “I guess so. Baby.”

The children laugh even more, but Davarax picks up on the suggestive tone of her voice and she can almost see him choke on his smugness. Hah.

At the end of the evening, Dulsissia makes sure to bundle up some of the food in a box that she hands to Paz by the door. “Here you go. I added some sweets too. Don’t tell the others.”

Paz huffs a faint laugh. He’s clearly spent time with Davarax too, by the sound of it. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Paz moves forward, slides his arms around her waist and hugs her close.

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia instantly leans down to wrap her own arms around him. “Welcome home, baby.” She whispers and her heart aches when she feels a faint shiver go through him.

And when the boy doesn’t let go, keeps holding on to her, a little too tight, Dulsissia has to fight the urge to try to pick Paz up and carry him like she’ll do to the smaller children.

Eventually Paz does let go, steps away and reaches out a hand, which Raga is quick to take and the children start to flood out of the room, until it is only Corin left, who starts cleaning off the table, and Dulsissia who walks over to the door to say good night to Davarax.

Leaning against the door frame, he reaches out and tucks a lock her hair behind her ear. “I really did miss you.” His voice so very soft and gentle.

Dulsissia struggles to look up at his t-visor, smiling. “Good.” She tugs lightly at the fabric just above his breastplate. “Because I missed you too. Are you okay? I saw the damage to your clothes.”

“Yeah, just minor injuries. Had to clean up a little rabble, but with Dez going through them like a hammerhead corvette, they weren’t a problem for long.”

Long enough for Davarax to be injured. Does Paz have scars too now? Dulsissia feels another rush of gratitude that they’d made it home. “You’re going to stay for a while now, right?”

“Absolutely.” Davarax’ gloved fingers come up to touch her lips for the briefest of seconds, then his hand move over to cup her face and he leans down so they can ever so gently touch foreheads, a modest touch in front of Corin’s suspicious eyes. “Good night, Dulcy.” He straightens and looks over at Corin. “Good night, Corin.”

“Good night,” Corin replies, “I’m glad you’re home again.”

“Me too.” Davarax replies, takes a final glance at Dulsissia and then walks back to his own room.

Knowing he’s right across the hall and yet also aware of how he needs to rest more than… anything else leaves Dulsissia squirming in her bed all night and very grumpy in the morning.

Her bad mood doesn’t get to last long. She and Corin have barely eaten breakfast before there is a knock on her door and she finds an uncharacteristically energetic Davarax.

“If you have something planned today, cancel it.” He blurts out.

Blinking wide-eyed, Dulsissia then raises an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Davarax turns to leave, but pauses and looks back at her. “And maybe tomorrow too. Yeah, cancel tomorrow too.”

He’s gone before she can ask any questions so she sends her son a quizzical look.

Corin looks equally puzzled and can merely shrug in response.

It’s about two hours later that Davarax appears again. He’s got a bag hanging on his right shoulder and the other children with bags of their own behind him. “We’re heading out.”

Curious, Corin wanders over to where Dulsissia is standing in the doorway and she automatically yanks him close so not get infected by whatever insanity has struck Davarax. “Out? Who? Where?”

“You, me, the kids.” Davarax gestures.

Dulsissia shakes her head, confused and increasingly worried. “But… it’s not allowed. Is it?”

“Not usually, no.” Davarax admits, gesturing her to come with them. “But I, uh, asked nicely.”

“We did it once before.” Raga pipes up, all smiles and excitement. “It was awesome!”

To her surprise, Dulsissia sees even Din is almost bouncing with happy energy. She looks over at her son, who is increasingly affected by the insanity despite her best efforts. He is grinning up at her with a hopeful look on his little face.

“Please, mommy? Please?”

“We’ll look after you two.” Paz declares.

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who tilts his head a little and says; “Trust me?”

Sighing, she shrugs. “Okay.”

It’s unnerving to to leave the Covert with the kids in tow. Heading into Nevarro by herself is scary enough, which means Dulsissia is ready to fire her blaster at her own shadow if it so much as looks at the children wrong.

Davarax leads them out of the city, he seems relaxed and confident enough, and Dulsissia actually feels a hint of fondness when she sees the less-than-shiny ship that had brought her and her son to safety.

Din actually runs ahead and Davarax presses the button on his vambrace to lower the ramp for the boy. And of course, where Din goes, Corin follows.

“I don’t get his fascination with that ship.” Barthor drawls, before casting a quick glance up at Davarax. “No offence.”

Davarax hums. “You’re riding in the back for that one, kiddo.”

“Oh, come on!” Barthor whines and Raga cackles at his misfortune before she jumps up on Paz’ back and he carries her on board the ship.

The surprises continue when the Razor Crest do not set course for space but heads west and keeps going west. Dulsissia peeks out the transparisteel, trying to tell herself not to be worried that Davarax is letting Din fly the ship more or less by himself and is fascinated by how the volcanic landscape turns more and more green and lush. Soon there are rivers and trees and even animal life.

It’s beautiful.

“Do you see it?” Davarax asks, standing next to to the pilot seat, one hand on Din’s shoulder and one hand on Corin’s shoulder as he stands next to the Mandalorian; mute with awe.

“I see it.” Din replies, flicking some switches and pressing some buttons. “Going in for landing.”

Davarax turns his head and shouts to the ones in the cargo area: “Buckle in, womp rats! We’re about to land!”

In her usual seat, Dulsissia flinches a little at the loudness but waves off Davarax’ sheepish apology.

She’s curious now. What is this place?

The landing is bumpy and a little scary, she can see Davarax about to intervene, but Din does manage to set the ship down without killing them all.

Outside the ship, they step into the gentle sunlight and the smell of damp soil and Dulsissia is amazed. She’s never seen such lush greenery. This is very different from the sterile enviroment of Seswenna, where everything is controlled and dictated by humans and what they deem to be in fashion, the polluted city she and Corin had met Davarax in or the dust-covered Nevarro.

Davarax picks up his bag and hers before gingerly nudging her with his shoulder, “Come.” and walks off.

She follows.

They come to a halt in a clearing and Davarax starts setting up what looks to be a camp site. He sets the children to different chores and only gives an absent sigh when he kneels next to what will probably become a fire place. “Paz, can you make sure,” Raga runs by him and climbs up the trunk of a nearby tree, “she doesn’t do that…”

Paz shrugs. “She’ll be fine. She got this.”

Davarax hums, not convinced but not visibly surprised by the incident or the response.

A little lost, Dulsissia stands at the outskirts of the site. She tries to hold on to Corin, but that only lasts for a couple of minutes before Corin frees himself to run after the others who take off with determination to finish their chore first. Watching in mild distress, she isn’t sure what to do with herself.

“Having you ever camped outside before?” Davarax asks.

Dulsissia shakes her head. The thought is a bit terrifying, but then she remembers that this last year she has been doing countless things she’s never done before. She can do this too. Taking a breath, she steps forward. “How can I help?”

The hours rush by. Davarax seems to be able to predict whatever madness they get up to, but Dulsissia struggles to keep up with the children exploring everything from tiny bugs to the massive creatures flying overhead, arguing, wrestling and climbing and generally getting incredibly dirty. Yet, she hasn’t heard them laugh so much in… ever?

“We should try to round up the rampant blurrgs and head back to the camp site.” Davarax says some time during mid-day. “We need to feed them before they try to eat each other…”

Dulsissia makes a thoughtful hum. Paz is somewhat clean, but Din and Barthor look like part mud-horns, while both Raga and Corin are more mud than child at the moment. “Yes, but… there is one thing we should do first.”

Davarax looks over at her. “What?”

She grins.

Fifteen minutes later, she wades into the river, still trying to tie up her hair, and proves to the others that stripping down to your underwear and going into the water isn’t going to kill them. Dulsissia learned to swim at a very young age, but she’d never been allowed to bring Corin out to teach him, and it sounds like the Covert children haven’t seen much of rivers and oceans at all.

The river here isn’t too deep, about waist height on her, and the temperature is cool but not cold.

Corin is the first to enter, following his mother like an obedient baby-porg, and once he is in; Din has to follow despite being clearly anxious of the liquid death trap. Raga will not be the accused of cowardice, so she stomps in next and grabs an anxious hold of Din. Barthor hesitates for a long time, but eventually he’s too curious to resist and joins them as well and then the splashing begins.

Davarax and Paz are the only ones who do not enter the water at all, despite the laughter and the splashing and encouragements from the others. Dulsissia suspects Davarax stays on land to keep Paz company.

After almost one hour, she wades back up on land, still laughing at a rather successful splash attack on both Corin and Din as they were trying to gang up on her. “Davarax?” While Paz is sitting cross-legged on the riverbank, Davarax is standing partially turned away and staring at the forest.

Instantly worried, Dulsissia inches over to him. “What’s wrong? Is there something out there?”

“No. No, nothing wrong. Everything is fine.”

Things are clearly not fine. He’s really tense and refuses to stop staring at the forest. “Then why-”

“Listen, if the kids weren’t here, I would be looking at you. Trust me, I would be looking. I would be looking so much. I would not stop looking. But they are here and… so I can’t. Okay?”

Oh.

Stupidly flattered, Dulsissia reaches out and gives him an apologetic pat on the arm. “I’ll get dressed.”

Davarax replies with a tense nod.

After they eat, Dulsissia is in the middle of trying to land a raspberry on the shrieking and flailing Barthor’s neck after he called her old when Davarax orders them up on their feet and to huddle together. He lifts his vambrace and declares it is time for a new holo-picture considering that their family has grown.

It’s a wonderful idea, it only saddens Dulsissia a bit when Davarax seems surprised when she insist on him being in the holo as well. Against all rules, he sets the vambrace on the ground and it scans them all together.

Dulsissia’s big challenge comes when dark has settled and the exhausted children are piled up together next to the camp fire, so deep into sleep that a Star Destroyer couldn’t wake them up. She tries to arrange her blanket on the ground, gingerly removing stick after nasty stick and pointy rock that is determined to poke her everywhere, but sleeping on the ground is not going to be easy.

“Having trouble?” Davarax asks, sounding amused. He’s sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree with his legs stretched out in front of himself, absently whittling away at a small twig.

“A bit.” Dulsissia admits with a sigh and gets up on her knees to stare down at her blanket.

“Hey…” Davarax calls for her to look his way and he sheaths the blade before tossing the twig away and nodding her over. “Come here?”

Smiling a little, Dulsissia gathers up her blanket and makes her way over. She settles next to him and as he lifts his arm to fit her under it, Dulsissia arranges the blanket to cover their legs.

Davarax does his laughter-huff. “I don’t need-”

“Shush. We’re sharing.” Dulsissia states, tucking their legs in before leaning back against him. She’s childishly pleased to feel his arm around her.

The ground is still hard, Davarax’ armor even more so, and still she can hear herself make a satisfied sigh just from being close to him again and being worn out from the day. She feels… happy. Content. “Today was nice. Really nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Davarax says in a solemn voice, quietly, for her ears. “My only comfort while being away was the fact that my kids were in good hands.” He sighs. “Usually when I get back, they... One time I had to spend three hours persuading Din to come out from his hiding place. Do you know this is the first time I’ve come back to smiles instead of tears?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a moment, determined not ruin the moment with her tears, and she takes his hand between hers. “It’s like you said; they are good kids. They are. I’m just sad not everyone can see that.” She lifts his hand and presses her lips to the glove. “And I’m so very happy they have you.”

“Us.” Davarax pulls her a little closer. “They have us.”

It takes a couple of days for him to catch up on his other obligations to the Covert and only then does Davarax tell Dulsissia to appear thirty minutes before the children, just like that very first time.

“Okay, show me what Decco has taught you.” Davarax says as he walks into the training room in front of her. “Impress me, Dulcy.”

She doesn’t really think. She just acts, assuming he’s prepared. So when her foot shoves hard at the back of his knee, made easy due to her walking behind him, and Davarax goes sprawling with a squawk; Dulsissia is horrified and drops to her knees next to him. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Davarax rolls over on his back and sighs. “Nothing hurt but my pride.” He then actually laughs a little. “Next time I will clarify to wait until we have actually started the lesson.”

Dulsissia awkwardly tucks her hair behind her ear and tries a smile. “At least I managed to knock you down this time.”

“You knocked me off my feet the second you ran to protect your son instead of just fleeing when I shot those men in the alleyway.” Davarax replies in a fond voice. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since.”

Dulsissia’s heart does a flip. It hasn’t done that while he was gone. It feels nice. And a light touch makes her look down and she sees how he is reaching out two fingers on the hand next to her to brush them lightly back and forth across her knee. The contact feels even nicer. She remembers...

She looks down at the floor and her face burns. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t have to train today? Maybe we could… hide in your room for a bit? Do you want that?”

“No.” Davarax replies.

The embarrassment triples and a sting of humiliation hurts bad. She’d just assumed… Her mistake.

Davarax hoists himself up on his left elbow and his right hand comes up to cup the side of her face. “I need more. Less than thirty minutes? It’s not enough. It’s nowhere enough for me. I can’t. I’m sorry, Dulcy, but I need more. I need hours. I need to love you, hold you, savour you...”

His voice is raw with that very need, and the heat in Dulsissia’s face has suddenly nothing to do with embarrassment of humiliation. It feels like all of her is burning.

She lifts her gaze and looks at his t-visor. “Tonight then?”

Davarax’ breath hitches and he only barely manages a faint nod. “If you want to?”

Dulsissia breaks into an embarrassed laugh, having trouble believing this man is real. “I’m the one throwing myself at you here.”

“Technically you kicked me to the floor.” Davarax offers as a weak joke.

They both end up laughing and she gives his arm a half-hearted slap. “And I said I was sorry. Now get up. We have some training to do.”

Davarax grunts. “I thought I was the teacher and you obeyed my every word?”

“You are and I did, but that only ended up with you eating floor, so maybe we should change it up a little?” Dulsissia sends him a challenging look and that finally gets him up on his feet with the snort of an offended bantha.

Suddenly he’s all business and no play. Dulsissia tries several times, but she fails to send him crashing to the floor again.

Later, when the children emerge, eager to train, she stays to watch. She’s amazed at the progress her son has made since they arrived her. He is not as advanced and smooth as the others, but even without maternal bias involved, Dulsissia can see that Corin is becoming quite the skilled fighter. He’s got talent.

As for the other kids; Barthor lacks strength, but his speed is unmatched. Raga is quite the brawler, willing to take punches if it means winning a fight and absolutely fearless.

The only thing that saddens Dulsissia is the change in Paz. He still supervises the others, corrects them when they do something wrong, but when his fist connects with Corin’s cheekbone and he knocks him down; he does not apologize.

She wonders what Paz has seen, what he went through last year. Some scars aren’t physical.

After training, Corin asks if Din can eat at their place and Dulsissia nods. It’s the same question, every day, and she always gives the same answer. But today it also gives her the opportunity to ask a question of her own.

“Can I ask you something?” Dulsissia leans against the wall next to where Davarax is standing, prodding at his vambrace.

“Sure.” He replies, not looking up from whatever he’s doing.

“Din’s parents. His Mandalorian parents. Why did you choose them?”

Davarax pauses and finally looks up at her. “I didn’t. I mean, I agreed to it. I don’t know her too well, but I’ve served with his father in the Fighting Corps. He’s a loyal man. A good Mandalorian.”

“Din is not happy there.”

Davarax sighs and looks over at where the boys are disappearing out the door. “I know.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Dulsissia asks. “Or, is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll talk to them.”

It’s almost funny. Dulsissia would laugh if she wasn’t so frustrated. In her youth, she had waited impatiently for Antonia to fall asleep so she could sneak out to meet boys. Now, a mother herself, she is waiting for her son to fall asleep so she can sneak out to meet a man.

No, not just ‘a man’. Davarax. Her heart does another flip at the very thought.

“Mom, are you okay?” Corin asks, a little concerned, bless his soul. He’s sitting in his bed, reading, blissfully calm after a long day of hard work pretending to be a bounty hunter with the others.

Dulsissia looks over at him, realizes she’s forgotten to pretend to be reading as well and is just tapping a nail restlessly at the datapad instead. She puts on a smile. “I’m fine, baby. I’m just thinking about what to get you for your birthday, that’s all. You keep reading.”

Corin beams her a happy smile before obediently going back to his story.

Dulsissia closes her eyes and wills time to speed up.

Time seems to drag on even more slowly, but after about a million standard years, Dulsissia finally dares to slip out of bed and tiptoe out of the room.

Her heart is racing and her pulse is thumping in her veins and she’s not even in the same room as Davarax! At least this time she’s had the good sense to put on something more flattering than the white sack, plus made sure her hair doesn’t look like the backside of a wookiee. And when she gingerly knocks on the door and it opens to reveal Davarax without his armor, merely his clothes, she knows he’s been thinking about this as much as she has.

She steps inside the room, the door closes behind her and for a second she and Davarax are just looking at each other. Unbearable hunger pulsating between them. A craving so strong Dulsissia doesn’t even want to resist it. She wants to be loved, held and savoured.

The second she steps towards him, he moves towards her. When her hands reach up and her arms go around his neck, his hands reach down and take a hold of her hips, lifting her up like she weighs nothing. Holding on to each other like they die if they didn’t, he carries her towards the bed.

Davarax had said hours and he had meant it. Dulsissia is amazed to find his hunger doesn’t stop between the bouts of lovemaking that leave her gasping for air. Instead she shivers with soft happiness as he trails his bare hands over her naked skin and whispers his love for all of her, body and soul. There is actual reverence in both of his voice and his touch. He sounds like a man in love.

Dulsissia gets to learn him as well and memorizes it all. He has two new scars. His neck is really sensitive. He goes weak when her lips touches his skin. And she can almost lull him to sleep by gently running her fingers up and down his back for a little while. She loves him so much it hurts.

An interesting revelation comes when Dulsissia declares that those tiny refresher showers could not fit two people, not in a billion standard years, and Davarax proves her wrong. Now she can never shower again without blushing…

For the last hour, all they do is lie curled up together in his bed, sharing each other’s warmth, watching with lazy satisfaction as their fingers play together in a slow, pointless dance of touching, braiding, stroking.

Content. There’s that word again.

Dulsissia is sad to leave, by the time she’s by the door they have already been through three kov’nyns and she pauses a final time to burrow her face to his neck and inhale the scent of him before forcing herself to leave. Davarax doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to.

They will have this again, Dulsissia tells herself. Don’t worry. They will definitely have this again.

And while her own bed feels lonely and cold, it still doesn’t take long before Dulsissia falls into an exhausted and satisfied sleep.

Three hours later, Corin has to call her name twice before she reluctantly opens her eyes and forces herself out of bed to start the day. She’s still half-asleep when they eat breakfast.

“Are you sure you’re okay, mom?” Corin asks, frowning. “You look tired.”

Dulsissia hides her smile behind her second cup of caf. “I’m okay, sweetie. I promise. I’m more than okay. I’m really good. And to prove it, I am going to bake those sugar cookies today and you guys can have as many as you want after training. I’ll pack some for Paz. How does that sound?”

Corin lights up, beaming with delight. “That sounds awesome. You are the best, mom.”

“So I’ve been told.” Dulsissia mumbles with smug delight, sipping more caf.

She plans her day thoroughly, making sure to have time free when she knows Davarax will have time off and hopes that maybe they can spend time together. One of the first things she does is grab her cookies and head up to Nevarro while Corin and Din are working on some project with Barthor.

It’s kind of funny how several of her regular buyers are some of the scruffiest looking bounty hunters in the city, but Dulsissia knows they are a lot kinder than they look.

She does not expect, after finishing a transaction, to hear a horribly familiar voice.

“Dulsissia?”

Her blood runs ice cold, fear clamps around her heart, and Dulsissia needs a moment before she slowly turns around and faces the one who had spoken. It’s him. How is it possible? How did he find her? “Vecon.”

Short, dark hair combed back into slick order, the same cold grey eyes as Macero, the younger and less handsome brother, Vecon Valentis studies her from head to toe and then snorts a laugh. “It is you. What are you doing here on Nevarro? Wow. You look a mess, Dulsissia. How the mighty Motti has fallen, eh?” Vecon scouts the surroundings. “Where is the kid?”

Cold sweat is breaking out on her skin. Dulsissia tries to keep a neutral expression on her face. “I ran out of funds. Couldn’t feed him. So I left him on a different planet with some kind souls and told them I’d be back for him.”

Vecon looks at her, digests the words and ends up shrugging. “Oh well. We’ll find him. If he’s still alive.”

She will never let him get his hands on Corin. Never. Dulsissia turns to run, but four storm troopers are now standing there. She swallows hard, forcing the panic away, before turning back to face her former brother-in-law.

“Don’t bother trying to run.” Vecon drawls, picking up a package with cookies from her small make-shift table and he studies them. “My brother wants you back and I would hate to have to mess up that pretty face of yours.” He drops the cookies to the ground and smirks. “Are you going to come nicely? Please say yes.”

Dulsissia knows he’s hoping she’ll say no. While Vecon has nothing personally against her and probably won’t harm her unprovoked, she has wronged his brother and that cannot be forgiven. She could try to run, but odds are against her. Five of them, one of her. She has a weapon, but so do they and while they most likely wouldn’t shoot to kill, it would be easier to escape without a blaster wound to slow her down. Also, even if she did manage to run, where would she run to? There is no way she will lead them to the Covert.

No, better go with them and find a way to escape before they get to Macero.

Dulsissia sticks her chin out. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Vecon smiles and steps forward, his boot crunching the cookies under it, reaching out to twirl a blonde lock of her hair around his index finger. “Excellent.” He glances down her body. “Hand over your weapons, please.”

Of course he won’t let her keep her weapons, but Dulsissia still hesitates. Davarax had given her these weapons. They were gifts from him. That makes them precious to her. “What if I promise not to use them?”

Vecon chuckles and gestures to the storm troopers, who don’t hesitate to grab her arms and start pawing all over her to look for weapons. Fighting against them is pointless, but she still struggles.

“Bring her.” Vecon orders once the blaster and blade are claimed and they proclaim her safe.

Dulsissia tugs angrily to free herself from the soldiers’ grip on her arms, but she walks with them.

Get them away from the Covert. Get them away from her loved ones. Then escape. Somehow.

A meagre comfort is how the many eyes watching this will at least inform Davarax of what happened and her son will be cared for.

A massive vehicle is waiting at the outskirts of Nevarro and Dulsissia is brought on board with Vecon and the storm troopers to join another group already seated there. Every soldier present is watching her with curiosity, more than one white helmet tilts and gives them an almost innocent look of inquisitiveness, but she knows these are people who wouldn’t kill her if ordered to do so.

The drive is bumpy and uncomfortable, but Dulsissia barely notices. She sits, back straight and stares emptily ahead at the wall, thinking about what Corin will think when she doesn’t come back. The Covert will have no trouble uncovering what has happened to her, but the thought of the fear her son will feel is killing her. His father is suddenly so very close and he has lost his mother for who knows how long? Forever?

No. Not forever.

Dulsissia will find her way back to him. To them. She will.

They arrive at the base and she is brought inside by the ones who had dragged her out of Nevarro. Vecon is talking on some communication device, clearly rescheduling his plans as he has something more important to do; bring back his brother’s property.

Shortly after that, she’s brought on board a huge imperial ship and locked away in a small, bare room clearly designed for prisoners a lot more dangerous than her.

Dulsissia sits down on the hard bench meant to be a bed, draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She doesn’t cry. She refuses to cry. She won’t give Vecon that.

A meal is brought to her twice a day, but otherwise she is left to slowly rot from boredom and fear.

Then comes the day when an officer steps inside her cell and holds out a bundle of clothes towards her.

“You are to wear this.” The woman orders with cold distaste. “The Colonel will see you in fifteen minutes. Make yourself presentable.”

The doors slide open and Dulsissia steps into the room where Vecon is sitting. The table in front of him is covered with all kinds of luxury food that Dulsissia used to love and hasn’t tasted since she left home. The smirk on Vecon’s face says he suspects this fact.

Forcing herself to smile, Dulsissia walks over to the chair drawn out for her at the opposite side of the table.

“Better.” Vecon says, lifting a fancy looking glass with red liquid and giving her a mock toast. “Much better.”

He’s referring to the dress she’s wearing. A beautiful and smooth thing in a glorious teal colour.

Sitting down, holding on to her smile through pure will power, Dulsissia can’t hide the anger in her eyes. “I never pictured you for a man of fashion, Vecon?”

“I’m not.” The man confirms, taking a sip. “But I can’t have my brother’s wife wandering around looking like something… cheap.”

The insult burns. It shouldn’t, she knows that. There was nothing wrong with the clothes she had been wearing. But the words burn and she feels angry with herself. “I’m sure he will be very grateful.”

“Oh, I know he will be.” Vecon puts the glass down and picks at something on his plate. “He’s been very determined to find you, Dulcy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Dulsissia growls with such intensity and anger it surprises him.

Dropping whatever he was holding between his fingers, Vecon goes from surprise to amusement. Chuckling, he sits up straighter and pays actual attention to her. “Well, well, has the loth-kitten grown claws? Was that attitude I heard? Not just snooty Motti condescension, but actual attitude?”

Dulsissia gives him a sour smile.

Vecon shrugs and gestures for her to eat. “I like my women spicy, so I’m pleased to hear it. Macero, as you know, won’t like that one bit.” He takes another sip of his glass. “I’ve sent him a message and expect to hear back from him any day now. He’s on a mission, I cannot disclose his whereabouts as it is top secret, but I think he’ll take some time off to greet you on your return.”

Fear gnaws in Dulsissia’s belly. She stares at her plate, unable to eat a single thing.

“There is one thing I need to know.” Vecon drones on. “Where is the kid?”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” Vecon sets his grey stare in her. “And now I want you to tell the truth.”

Dulsissia just stares at her plate.

“Don’t make this difficult for the both of us.” Vecon says. “I will find him, eventually. You know that. I’m inclined to say he’s back on Nevarro, but then I also think you might have been more reluctant to leave if he was. Maybe I should level the place just to be sure?”

Closing her eyes, trying to block out his words, Dulsissia feels sick to her stomach. Vecon is capable of doing just that. She knows he is. Not merely because he has the soldiers and firepower to do it, but because he’d enjoy doing it.

Macero and Vecon are frightfully similar in many ways, but where Macero is cold and efficient, Vecon is less clever and more randomly cruel. It’s what has kept him from advancing further in the army, unlike his brother who has met the Emperor himself.

Macero wouldn’t care if an orphanage caught fire as long as it benefited him, Vecon would stay to listen to the screams.

“Just tell me, Dulsissia.” Vecon says with a friendly smile so fake it wouldn’t fool a blind man. “My brother wants his son back. He misses him. How could you take Corin away from his father?”

“Burn Nevarro to the ground. Bomb the planet from orbit. I don’t care.” Dulsissia bluffs, raising her gaze to meet his with cold contempt. “You won’t find him there.”

Clicking his tongue, Vecon studies her for a while and then gestures to the guards. “Take her back to her cell.”

Dulsissia gets up.

“And you can leave the knife.” Vecon says, not looking up from piling food on to his own plate.

Clenching her jaw, Dulsissia places the butter knife back on the table, turns and walks out of the room.

How many days has it been? It’s hard to tell in this coffin of a room. Dulsissia spends the time either lying on the bench or pacing back and forth the two and a half steps it takes from covering the distance from one wall to the next.

When two guards come to fetch her, Dulsissia is almost grateful. Her mind is tormenting her with all kinds of scenarios of what her boy must be going through so even Vecon is a welcome distraction.

They bring her to a different place this time. The door opens to reveal some kind of communication room and she sees Vecon standing there, in the middle of the room with his back towards her, and Dulsissia braces herself. Will it be more threats? Bargaining this time, maybe?

What she doesn’t expect it Vecon stepping aside and revealing Macero’s holo-image.

“Dulsissia.” Macero’s voice greets her.

“Macero.” Dulsissia whispers back. She can’t move. Can’t look away.

“I have been looking for you.” Macero says, his voice is flat but his eyes are angry. “I’ve been very worried. You can imagine my relief when Vecon sent me a message that he’d found you.”

Vecon grins.

Dulsissia says nothing.

“He also tells me you will not give up the location of my son.” Macero continues.

His son? Dulsissia feels a flicker of fury burn in her belly. He hadn’t shown one ounce of interest in ‘his’ son until there was talk about sending him away. Macero had been pleased when she’d told him she was pregnant, but she’d been more or less on her own for the next nine months except for when they were posing for her family. Macero had shown up again a mere hour after Corin was born, inspected the child and nodded with approval before leaving again.

Growing up, Corin had been desperate for his father’s attention and time, but he never gave it to him. “Do you even remember his name?” Dulsissia can’t hide the bitterness in her voice.

“Of course I remember his name” Macero does not take the bait. “Tell me where he is.”

“No.”

Macero stares at her with those cruel eyes of his and then turns his attention to Vecon. “Bring her to Seswenna. Stay with her and make sure she gets a lot of rest. She probably shouldn’t talk to anyone. It’s been a tough experience for my dear wife and she needs time to recover.”

“Understood.” Vecon replies, like a good soldier. He always did whatever his brother told him to do.

“Don’t do this, Macero.” Dulsissia asks, taking a step forward. “Just let me go. You won’t ever see me again. Tell them I died or something.”

“What I’m going to do is find my son.” Macero replies with cold contempt. “And you, my dear wife, will stop your pathetic whining and go back home. You are going to stay there, put on a happy face and give me sons and daughters.”

Exhaling sharply, Dulsissia shakes her head. “I’m not some pawn in your plan, Macero.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Macero doesn’t even blink. “That is exactly what you are. Our children will be Mottis and not even your family can deny that. They may dislike me, but they can’t turn their back on their own blood.”

She hates herself as frustrated and frightened tears well up in her eyes, but Dulsissia can’t stop it. “I won’t be a part of it. I refuse. Do you hear me?”

Vecon snickers and for a second there is almost pity in Macero’s eyes before they go cold again and he gives his final orders to Vecon and the holo-image blinks out.

Shivering, Dulsissia stares at the floor and tries to remember how to breathe. She is brought back to reality when something takes a hold of her chin and Vecon lifts her face to grin down at her.

“Let’s get you home, Motti Princess.”

Fury and disgust flares up in her and Dulsissia’s eyes narrow. “Always obeying orders from big brother. Always such a good little boy, aren’t you, Vecon? Trying and trying, but never as good as your brother. Never clever enough, never skilled enough, so you suck up to Macero and happily do his dirty work.”

Vecon flinches with anger and abruptly backhands her across the face.

It hurts. It snaps her face to the side, almost knocks her off balance, and Dulsissia can feel her cheekbone burn with what will become a bruise. But it also gives her the excuse and opportunity to spin back and ram her elbow with all of her might into Vecon’s face in a move that would have made her Mandalorian teachers proud.

She is rewarded with a very satisfying crunch, the sound of his nose breaking, and Vecon’s surprised bellow of pain, before the guards grab her and restrain her before she can do any more damage.

“Get her back to her cell!” Vecon howls.

Dulsissia doesn’t fight them.

She spends the next eternity staring up at the ceiling, lying on the hard bench and going over every possible escape attempt she can conjure up. From being on the ship itself, to the transport to Seswenna to her old home. She knows that house far better than Vecon. She can get away. The big problem will be getting off the planet.

It happens when one of the guards is entering the cell to hand her a plate with food.

The ship gives a violent shake, there is the sound of a distant explosion, followed by several others, and soon red lights are flashing and alarms are blaring out in the hallway.

“What is going on?” The guard asks a storm trooper running by the cell.

“We’re under attack!” Is the reply.

Dulsissia sits up. They’re being attacked? Could this be her chance to escape?

Before she gets the chance to do anything, the guard runs out and closes the door behind them, but Dulsissia doesn’t give up. The ship continues to shake, there are more explosions, and she starts to pace her cell. She has to be ready. This might be her moment. All she needs is the opportunity…

The door opens again and this time two guards run in to grab her. Vecon is standing out in the hallway and he’s not looking pleased. In fact, he’s sending almost nervous glances towards the back of the ship.

“What is going on?” Dulsissia asks, pulled out of her cell by the guards.

“We are leaving.” Vecon replies. Oh, he is definitely nervous. And don’t those explosions sound a little closer now?

“Why?” Dulsissia tugs to free herself but yet again in vain. “What is happening?”

As if to answer her question, there is the sound of blaster fire and she can see the flashes of light in the distance.

“He’s here, sir.” One of the guards says.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” Vecon snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

The guards run forward to join the others fighting, while Vecon grabs Dulsissia’s arm and tugs her close. She notes that he’s also drawn his blaster.

Down in the hallway, the fighting is coming closer. The ceiling light at the very end gets taken out by an errant blaster shot so there are only slight flashes of what is going on when a weapon is being fired. The storm troopers are being pushed back by whomever is approaching.

Vecon slowly lifts the blaster and places the muzzle to Dulsissia’s head.

She hardly notices, can only stare as she sees a flash of blue armor amidst the chaos in front of her.

With deadly accuracy with his blaster shots, a lone figure is making his way towards them. A flick of a wrist sends a grenade into a room to take out some troopers popping in and out to fire at their opponent. A harsh kick sends a helmet flying from a trooper already on the floor trying to reach for their blaster nearby.

Davarax. It’s him. How? She doesn’t care. It’s him. He’s here and that is all that matters.

A group of guards emerge from a room behind him while the Mandalorian is focused on two death troopers in front of him, but before Dulsissia can open her mouth to scream a warning, Davarax activates his flame thrower and turns in a calculated circle to engulf them all. He doesn’t wait for the last trooper to fall before he’s already moving forward, lifting his blaster to shoot at his next target.

Davarax is completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, doesn’t react to the ones bouncing off his armor, merely keeps stalking towards them and takes them down, one by one. He comes with the smell of fire, blood and death.

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. The Mandalorian then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it.

The blade flies through the air and takes down the one guard left standing.

The red lights are still flashing, alarms are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is standing in front of Dulsissia and Vecon.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulsissia says, eyes on Davarax’ visor. There is blood spattered all over his helmet and armor. If death had taken shape as a human, this is what it would look like. His quiet, looming figure would have terrified her if she didn’t know the heart behind it. He’s no threat to her. To everyone else on the ship, yes, but not to her.

Vecon draws a sharp, startled breath, and his finger is about to tighten on the trigger, but before he can squeeze it; Davarax’ grip engulfs all of Vecon’s hand and twists it, making him drop the weapon with a pained yelp.

Dulsissia breaks free and takes up position next to Davarax, staring at Vecon bent over in awkward twist due to the grip on his hand. “Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. If he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

Vecon sneers. “Tell him yourself.” And with his other hand, he rams a blade into Davarax’ side.

The Mandalorian jolts with a pained grunt and Vecon has one moment of triumph before Davarax ends his life with a well aimed blaster shot and lets him fall to the floor.

Dulsissia ducks under Davarax’ outstretched arm still aiming the blaster at Vecon to get to where the blade is embedded in him. “Oh. Oh, no. What-”

Davarax yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to make her look up at his t-visor. “We have to go.”

His voice. His perfect voice. It’s really him. She nods.

Davarax bends down, picks up Vecon’s blaster and gives it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?”

She nods again.

They move and Dulsissia makes sure to fire at everyone who appears behind them while Davarax violently and without mercy ploughs through the storm troopers piling up in front of them to prevent them from escaping. Once they finally step inside the large hangar bay, Davarax turns, wraps one arm around Dulsissia’s waist and then they are flying up towards the ceiling.

A couple of blaster shots follow them, but mostly the chaos and destruction and sudden lack of leadership seems to have stunned the crew of Vecon’s ship, which makes it almost easy to climb into the vent and move through it. They emerge in a docking tube and Dulsissia exhales a weak laugh when she sees the side of the now beloved Razor Crest at the end of it.

“Go.” Davarax nudges her, then follows with blaster raised to cover their backs while they run towards his ship.

Dulsissia half expects Vecon’s ship to fire at them or at least pursue, but the big ship lies dead in the darkness and the Razor Crest can detach and make a run for it without any trouble. Yet it still takes over thirty standard minutes before Davarax stops pushing the engines as well as constantly checking the radar, only then does he finally lean back in the seat with a strained exhale.

Dulsissia unbuckles herself and runs over to hover next to him. She sees he’s bleeding in several places, his clothing is singed and ripped, the armor has countless new dents and scratches. Reaching out, her hands move from place to place and hover uselessly. Where to begin?

She makes a surprised squeak when Davarax suddenly pulls her close and hugs her tight.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulsissia says, trying to push herself away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

“In a moment.” Davarax says, not letting go, whispering; “Just… Please.”

And that is what breaks her.

Not threats or horrors, not death and destruction, but those softy whispered words.

Dulsissia wraps her arms around him, lets him ease her up on his lap and curls as close to him as possible while he holds her as close as possible.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #what if

69 notes · View notes

lu-undy · 3 years

Text

New Sniper/Spy work!

This time I’m going back to the “fluffy request” format. You may send a few lines for an idea, or a bit of dialogue between Sniper and Spy and I will turn it into a short story.

Here is the first one: "Sniper catches Spy reading a book, the title of which is "Solitude, But Two". More curiously, the Frenchman stares and blushes..."

As always, I recommend reading it from AO3, following the underlined link, the formatting is better there. :)

The team's effort had earned them victory upon victory that day, and as it was the end of the week, the mercenaries all gathered in the common room. Some were playing cards, some were watching the television, while others were chatting with a beer in their hands.

On one of the chairs lay Sniper, his hat on his face and his hands crossed on his stomach, making sure the bottle of beer there wouldn't slide down and fall. His absurdly long legs were flowing straight in front of him, with his feet almost touching the sofa facing him. The noise of Demoman's hearty laughter woke him up from his nap and the Aussie winced as he removed the hat from his face.

Flash, too bright. He grumbled and blinked repeatedly for his eyes to adjust to the light. When his brow relaxed, his eyes fell on his colleague on the sofa opposite him. His varnished, black Italian shoe was tracing slow circles in the air. Sniper followed the pinstripe pattern of his trousers up to the Frenchman's lap. The man in the mask was sitting with one leg on top of the other, reading a book.

As Sniper's eyes rose lazily from the book, he realised that Spy's cheeks were pink, and his eyes were on the Aussie himself. The second their eyes met, Spy's eyes flashed back to the book and he frowned harder.

Sniper's eyebrows jumped in surprised. He saw his colleague exhale the smoke of his cigarette through his nostrils. Ha, what kind of emotion was the snake trying to convey, huh?

"Hey, Snipes has woken up, guys. Yo, wanna join up? We're gonna play darts."

"If ye wanna lose again…" The Aussie answered as he adjusted his posture on the seat. "How high's the bet? Wouldn't wanna rob you of your pocket money."

"Right, fine, go back to your nap… Jeez…" Scout turned his back and joined his group of colleagues to play darts.

Sniper's head turned back to Spy and to his greatest surprise, he found the Frenchman staring at him, with pink cheeks at that!

"What?" Sniper asked. "Got somethin' on my face?"

Spy's eyes darted back to his book and his brow furrowed.

"Non. My apologies."

Sniper frowned for a second, but didn't think much of it. He looked at his bottle and realised it was empty. So he stood up to go and grab another one. As he came back, he tried to read the title of the book. He winced as he managed to catch only the first two words.

Solitude, but…

There was another word but it was hidden by Spy's gloved fingers. Bah…

Sniper resumed his seat and lazily enjoyed his beer, while listening to the conversations here and there, his ears jumping from one voice to the other. He stretched his arms and legs. "Oh, sorry." He had kicked Spy's foot. The Frenchman buried his head deeper in the book.

Sniper ignored it and lay back on the chair. When his eyes went around all of his colleagues, they came back to see what was in front of him and again fell on the Frenchman. To say he was absorbed by his reading was the understatement of the century. The Aussie knew that Spy enjoyed reading. It wasn't the first time that his participation in the Friday evening activities consisted solely in sitting on the sofa or the armchair and reading, surrounded by the ambient chatter of his colleagues. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like it had been the same book for the past few weeks at least.

Sniper’s eyebrows jumped in surprise when he realised that Spy had raised his eyes to him. Their gazes hang up in the air for a moment, Sniper’s cheeks turned pink while Spy’s already were.

Their eyes snapped away from each other and Spy cleared his throat. The end of his cigarette lit up in bright orange before the smoke exited his nostrils in a long laminar sigh.

Often, Sniper didn't even know when Spy would leave. One moment he was there and the next, he was gone. He probably left because of the noise getting to him, or something being a tiny inconvenience for a normal person, but a huge annoyance for the aristocratically mannered Frenchman.

Sniper's eyes stayed on Spy for a while. He wondered what he looked like under the mask, like everyone else. All he knew was that he had light blue, almost grey eyes, with black and long eyelashes. His nose was slightly hooked and his lips very thin. They always held a cigarette, to the point where Sniper wondered if his colleague slept or showered with them too…

Spy's eyes were scanning the printing lines at a constant rate, and sometimes, his eyes would stop, he would squint and come back a few lines ago to read a paragraph again. Sniper noticed with amusement that whatever Spy was feeling, it would leak through the subtle movement of his eyebrows. Lightly frowning or relaxing them was more than Sniper usually saw him show.

Curious and mysterious man he was that Spy. But a good teammate and undoubtedly redoubtable in his trade. An assassin as loud as a shadow, but his seconds would be counted upon being found out, a bit like Sniper himself. And similarly to him too, he wasn't one to be very talkative. He would say what was required of him to say, and not more. Small talk wasn't something the Aussie was well versed in but no doubt Spy was different. With the successes he was said to have with women, surely he was very good at it but just chose not to partake in it with his colleagues.

He respected them as far as work was concerned, but beyond that, Sniper didn't think that Spy would call his colleagues "friends". Ah, actually, did he even know what a friend was? Had he ever sat in a pub and enjoyed a few beers with friends?

Spy’s mind wasn’t in the common room at all. He was in the setting described by that story. Australia, the bushy and red desert. Wide and wild empty spaces, where the only noises would be those of the exotic birds. Ah, the descriptions really made his mind travel. He had never been to Australia, despite being fairly well travelled. His work had never taken him that far from home. Ha, home… If anyone asked him, he would answer that France was his home country, but it wasn’t his home per se. He didn’t feel more at home in France or right there, in the base. Such was the problem with travelling that much, nowhere is really home anymore.

Spy’s train of thought was interrupted when a bottle of beer appeared between him and the book.

“Here.”

Spy realised that Sniper was standing behind the sofa and handing him the bottle over his shoulder.

“Merci.” He accepted the beer and took it in his hand.

[Thank you.]

Sniper smiled.

"What’cha readin'?"

"Not over my shoulder." Spy shut the book.

"C'mon, you've been stopping every other minute and looking up to me. Just wanna know why, is all."

"I was not looking at you. I was just taking a break in my reading to process what I just read. Not everything has to do with you, Sniper."

"You've had that there novel in your coat for weeks, and you never let it leave your side; must be a damn good one, Spook."

"I enjoy some kind of literature. It takes my mind off of the fact that I live with lunatics."

"Well, I certainly understand the feeling." Sniper pointedly glared at Scout, who was in the process of unwedging his baseball from the rafters. "Mind sharing that little corner of sanity with me?"

"Non." Spy turned to Sniper. "Now, do you mind? I was in the middle of a chapter."

Sniper resumed his seat further away. He put his hat over his eyes and pretended to sleep. He let his breathing stabilise and knew Spy was watching him to make sure that he was asleep and no longer a disturbance for his reading. But Sniper also knew he was certainly more patient than the Frenchman.

Spy resumed his reading, raising his eyes from time to time in another direction. When he was convinced that Sniper was asleep, he raised his eyes and stared.

He stared…

Sniper could fall asleep anywhere at anytime in any situation, a great quality for a spy, when sometimes situations called for gathering strength in the least comfortable positions.

Sniper suddenly moved the hat away and stared back and Spy got startled, almost jumping on his seat.

"Gotcha starin' again, Spook...."

Spy frowned and left the room to go to his private one. He was obviously furious and fuming but Sniper noticed the blush on his cheeks, the embarrassment. God knew that man hated being embarrassed more than anything else.

Sniper decided to wait for a few minutes before he followed and knocked on his door.

"Who is this?"

"It's me."

"Non merci, see you tomorrow on the battlefield."

[No thanks]

"Spook..." Sniper insisted still behind the door.

"Would you understand it better in French?" Spy asked, irritated.

"C'mon, Spook, just a minute.... Or maybe you'd prefer me to say everythin' I want out in the open, in the corridor...?"

Spy rolled his eyes and shut the book. He pushed himself to stand up and stood off of his armchair to open the door.

"Come in and make it quick."

"Right, right... Can I sit down or do I have to pay extra?"

Spy gestured to the sofa, next to his armchair.

"What is it you seek?"

"You were starin'. Just wanna know why. I checked my face, I don't have anythin' on it, so what is it?"

Spy frowned and put a hand on the bridge of his nose.

"Is that about that book you've been reading?"

The Frenchman looked away, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Seems to take you places, that book. What is it about...?"

Spy reached for it on the coffee table but Sniper had the same idea. Both withdrew their hands.

"Hey... I just wanna understand cause uh... those looks you give me when you stare at me. Even Engie noticed the blush on yer face."

Spy put a hand on his face.

"Oh, merde...." Spy sighed.

[Oh, shit...]

"I just wanna understand, is all. If it was a magazine, I'd thought it was one of those that Scout's gettin' delivered, eh...."

"Bushman!"

"I know, I know, not your style. So I'm just wonderin'. What the hell gets your cheeks red?"

"I hardly blush. And you cannot see it with the mask."

"Maybe, but I can still see it up there...."

Sniper raised his finger closer to Spy's face, on his upper cheeks. Spy’s eyes followed the finger until they got too close to his personal space and slapped the hand away.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

Sniper took advantage of the Frenchman being destabilised for a fraction of a second to snatch the book away and run out of Spy’s quarters.

"BUSHMAN!"

Spy ran after him, racing the man with taller legs than him, until the Aussie locked himself up in the back of his van.

"BUSHMAN, GIVE ME BACK MY BOOK!"

"Hold on! Need to read the back page, what's this about....?"

Spy banged the door repeatedly with a furious fist.

"BUSHMAN!"

Sniper read, loud enough for Spy to hear from the other side of the thin door.

"After a decade out of his job, the retired Frenchman is called again by no less than the Minister of Defense himself. There is a case to solve, that only the ex-spy can deal with. So he puts on his suit and tie again and flies to Australia where his target is.

He does a good job on his own, until a certain wild kangaroo barges into his mission, and his life."

Spy had stopped knocking on the door and gulped down his constricted throat, sweat breaking on his brow.

"Sounds like something you could be in, eh?"

"Bushman, give me my book NOW!"

"Or what? You gonna disguise yourself as a sheet of paper and slide under the door?"

Sniper couldn’t really hear or understand what the Frenchman mumbled under his breath, and just chuckled at how ridiculously Spy had reacted, chasing him down the base and outside, all the way to his van. But now that he had the book, let’s just open that thing and read bits…

“Oh… Oh hold on…” Sniper frowned, his smile vanishing more as he read line after line.

From the other side of the thin door, Spy got his cigarette case out, opened it to retrieve the pins he concealed there, and started to pick the lock.

"Oh bugger... I get it.... I.... Wow.... That's why you were starin' at me and blushin' like a sheila...? Wait, hold on, if you're looking at me like that and all, does that mean you-Woof?!"

The lock yielded and Spy barged in the room full force, tackling Sniper to the floor.

"Give me back my book!" Spy roared.

"Hold on…" Sniper looked at Spy with wide astounded eyes.

The man in the suit took the opportunity of Sniper being distracted to snatch the book back and stand up. He dusted off his suit.

"Spook...?"

"Good night." Spy turned and headed away.

"Hold on!" Sniper jumped to his feet and held him back from his shoulder.

"What now?! Can't I be left in peace?!" Spy was infuriated.

"Hey…"

Sniper’s voice was much softer than Spy’s raging one. Their eyes met.

"How far were you in the book?"

"What?" Spy squinted.

"How far were you in? Beginnin'? Middle?"

“Why do you care?”

“Just answer! Closer to the beginnin’ or the end?”

Spy sighed and his shoulders sank.

"Closer to the beginning than the end, why?"

"Wanna... Read it together?" Sniper gestured to inside his van. "I don't have a couch or anythin', but there's a bench, or the bed if it's too uncomfy for you…"

"Wh-...?" Spy was at a loss.

"I only read bits. Don't leave me hangin', eh?" Sniper smiled. The Frenchman stared in disbelief. "C'mon, I wanna know what happens to the French Spook in Australia."

"If you ever speak of this…" Spy raised a threatening finger to his colleague.

“I know, I know, tiny knife between my shoulder blades, yada yada yada.... Now come in and let's shut the door before someone sees us."

“I would do so much more than just backstab you, believe me.” Spy threatened but nonetheless entered the van fully.

Sniper stared in astonishment as Spy removed his jacket and loosened the tie on his neck before removing his shoes and climbing the ladder to the bed.

"Oh alright…"

"Do you have any water in this ridiculous dwelling of yours?"

"Yeah, I'll get you a glass. I'd tell you to get comfy but you already did...."

"Come on, I don't have all day...."

"A minute! Jesus, you're supposed to be patient and all, aren't you?"

Sniper climbed up and joined Spy on the bed before switching on his night lamp. The light was yellow and not too bright.

"How can you take so much space with yer skinny arse?"

"I am not! You are the one pushing me! Also, I could do without any remarks on my behind, thank you very much Bushman!"

"I’m not pushin’ you... Anyway, here, yer bloody water, now... You can pick up where you left off, don't need to start at the beginnin', eh."

"Merci. I was not going to anyway. Now...."

"And I read slow, so don't go and turn the pages too fast, yeah?"

"May I start already?" Spy rolled his eyes up, part of him still wildly surprised.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, go ahead…"

Spy took a sip of water and started reading out loud.

"Hold on, what are you doin'?!"

"I am reading, wasn’t that what you wanted now, Bushman?"

"Out loud? I know how to read, eh!"

"A pleasant surprise.” Spy answered. “Now, you wanted the story, yes or no?"

"Yeah?"

"So keep quiet."

Spy took a deep breath and resumed the reading. Time passed, pages were turned, Spy only stopped to drink a bit of water from time to time. Sniper enjoyed himself. Spy knew how to read well. His tone, his voice and the way he played the characters in the dialogues were very pleasant to the Aussie’s ear.

Sniper leaned his head on Spy's shoulder, following the text on the page with his eyes. Spy was taken aback for a split second, but carried on, choosing to ignore it rather than making it more awkward. After all, he was in Sniper’s bed reading him a story...

Holy dooley…

Sniper wasn’t expecting that. Spy was now reading a moment of… romance between the French spy and the Aussie in the story. The Frenchman kept his composure, force of professional habit, but Sniper started to get uncomfortable, a bit like when he was watching the TV with his parents and a hot scene came on. What made it all so much real was Spy’s voice acting of the characters. For the French spook, he wasn’t changing his voice at all but for the Aussie hunter, he sounded strikingly like the enemy Sniper. And the flirting written in the story, the banter, it all sounded so real.

"Bushman?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you shaking?"

"I-I'm not. Keep goin'."

"Sniper…"

Spy looked down on his shoulder. Sniper avoided eye contact, his eyes remained glued to the book as if his life depended on it.

"You lie very poorly."

"Well... good thing I'm not paid for it then I guess...."

"Indeed. Now, what is the problem?"

"Nothin'. C'mon, continue, or I'll read it...!"

"You are trembling, you can barely speak and you try to make me believe that you will read this out loud? Go ahead then, humour me."

A smirk crept across Spy's thin lips.

"Uh... Right... Where were we... Uh... I-I can't find the line anymore!"

"I have my finger on it, Sniper.”

"Yeah, well…"

"Now, what is it? Have you never read un roman à l'eau de rose before?"

"A what now?"

"Literally, a 'novel with rose water', it is an expression we use to describe a romance novel. Have you never read one of those before?"

"N-not really.... They're books for sheilas…"

"Do I look like one?" Spy asked.

"No…"

"Then, it is not."

"It's not what?"

"'A book for sheilas'. Now, shall we resume?"

"Spook...?"

"What?"

"I'm just... It's an Aussie hunter and a French Spy in the story, right?"

"Oui."

"Is that why... I mean..."

"You are trembling for the same reason that I was blushing." Spy answered. “Now, may I?”

"'s bloody ridiculous, I'm sorry."

"It is fine." Spy leaned his head on top of Sniper's.

"Shall we resume now?"

"Uh, hold on... Ahem... I-I'm sorry.... I-it's worse now...."

"Mon Dieu.... Wait, can you hold the book for an instant?"

"I-I can try...."

Sniper held the book open with shaking hands and watched as Spy removed one glove, then the next.

"I can hold it now, merci."

The Aussie gave him back the book, Spy held it with one hand, as he slithered the other to Sniper's.

"Now, where were we? Ah," Spy cleared his throat and resumed reading as if he wasn’t holding Sniper’s hand. The Aussie's heart backflipped in his chest the moment Spy's slender fingers reached his.

"Can you turn the page, please?"

"Uh, sure… Spook?"

"What now?" Spy sighed.

"Thanks, eh."

"Hm."

Spy’s fingers slid between Sniper’s and he felt the trembling fingers struggle but reciprocate. The Aussie shifted on the bed slightly to adjust his head against Spy's shoulder. Spy lifted his head, and then leaned it again once Sniper was comfortable again.

"Shall we resume now?"

"Yeah, I think I'm uh... I'm better."

Spy started reading again.

"Spook?"

Another, longer sigh.

"What is it, now?"

"Will ya… remove your mask too?"

"Non."

"Oh, okay…"

"It is too cold in your van."

"Hold on…"

Sniper hopped out of bed, turning on the heater.

"Are you serious?" Spy asked.

"It's just to see if you look like the bloke from the book, is all."

Mundy quickly covered them both with the blanket.

"Alright, carry on, sorry…"

"Now it is too hot." Spy complained, thinking that Sniper would snap at him and ask him to leave.

"Will you remove your mask, then?"

Spy’s eyebrows jumped. He didn’t expect that.

"Non."

"Oh... So you just said that like that....? Alright...."

Spy resumed his reading but his mind wasn’t on the story. His whole attention was on the hand he was holding, on the fingers that now slithered back between his. He stopped reading sharp. Sniper waited, expecting Spy to take a sip of water but the Frenchman didn’t move.

“What?” Sniper asked. “You didn’t finish the page so I’m not gonna turn it.”

"Would you like to remove it for me?"

“Remove the page?” Sniper was confused.

“Non, my mask.”

The Aussie's eyes snapped wide, his jaw lowering as if it had a mind of its own.

"Wait…" He looked up at Spy. "You serious?"

“Am I ever in the habit of joking?”

“I don’t know, you’re so hard to follow.”

"Do you want to see if I look like Lucien from the book or not?"

"Yeah! I mean…” Sniper calmed down. “If that's ok with you...?"

"Then, go ahead." Spy closed the book and turned to face Sniper, who sat up and turned to the Frenchman.

“You sure?”

“The more you ask and wait, the higher the probability of me changing my mind.” Spy answered seemingly annoyed.

“Right, right…” Sniper raised his hands up and his fingers approached the Frenchman’s neck. He pinched the fabric and looked up at Spy’s face. The man was staring at him with his arctic blue eyes that seemed even more light under the yellow night lamp. Sniper took a deep breath and rolled the fabric up before gently pulling it up.

"Jesus Christ..." Sniper took an instant to discover all the features unknown until then.

Spy carded his hair back with a nonchalant hand.

"So, does the description fit me?" He smirked, amused by Sniper’s astonishment.

"Ah... I mean... Uh... I... Uhm... Hold on...."

"Come on, just be honest. That should be easy for you, you lie terribly."

"You're gorgeous." The sentence escaped Sniper’s lips and his control. It was one thread of air that slid out of him. Spy’s eyebrows jumped, not that he wasn’t used to hearing it, but as the years passed, he heard it less and less. Besides, it wasn’t anyone who was saying it, but the Aussie hunter.

"Well, thank you. You don't look all that bad yourself. Now, shall we resume?"

"Y-yeah…"

Sniper sat back next to Spy and looked back up at him.

"Sniper…"

"Hm?"

"You do realise that you are staring at my face?"

"Oh, bugger, sorry...." Sniper’s eyes moved away to fall on the book again, but he didn’t see the pages, the ink on the paper, the bed, the van. All that his brain projected on his eyes was Spy’s naked face...

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"I never asked you to stop."

Sniper’s head swooshed to Spy’s with wide open eyes. The Frenchman smiled, sweetly.

“I uh… What are you doin’? You playin’ with my nerves or somethin’?”

“You were the one to invite me in your bed.” Spy smirked as he knew very well that his comment would make Sniper blush and it didn’t miss. The Aussie exhaled long and hard, before wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. “Come on, will you play the shy card now?”

“What’re you playin’ at?”

“Your invitation and the fact that I am still here speaks at length for what you think about me. But it is curious that you worked up the courage to ask me to remove my mask, but not to just phrase what you feel.”

“Get out of my head, Spook.”

“My apologies.” Spy chuckled.

“Although I s’ppose if you are in my head, you don’t need me to tell you anythin’. You’ve read it already.”

“I am afraid so.”

“You’re afraid so?” Sniper repeated.

“Oui, I started reading and could not really stop.” Spy answered. “More seriously, you have not kicked me out yet, so I suppose you don’t find my company to be too much of a burden.”

“Yeah, I guess this tells me that you're ok with me too.” Sniper raised his hand, which fingers were still intertwined with Spy’s.

“You guess correctly.”

Their eyes met again and both smiled.

“What do you think of the story so far?” Spy asked.

“It’s nice. Although I don’t think I’m that shy with you.”

“Indeed. But you should read the rest, you become braver.”

“I thought you hadn’t read more of it?”

“Oh, please. I have read it again and again.”

“You liar.”

“When I need to, oui.”

“So you’ve been readin’ this book on loop, eh?”

“Oui, it was a curious find. There is this bookshop I like in town and I was having a look around when the shopkeeper recommended it to me. I read the summary at the back and it caught my attention. Since then, the book hasn’t left my side. And I am delighted to have shared a part that I enjoy with you. But this book, it is the only company I have besides that of that awfully clingy mistress.”

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow.

“You have a sheila?” He removed his hand from Spy’s and the Frenchman chuckled, oddly enough.

“I think you and I share her.”

“What?! No! I don’t have any sheila! I’m-I’m with no one!”

“Sniper?”

“What?”

“Do you want to drive her away with me?” Spy asked, looking deep in the lagoon blue irises of the Aussie.

“Oi, not gonna stand between you and your sheila!”

“Sniper, I am not talking about a woman. I mean the Solitude that fills my days as much as it does yours.” Spy finally explained and Sniper saw his light irises half hide behind a delicate curtain of long, black eyelashes.

“I… Uh… Spy…”

The Frenchman smiled. It was egotistical and narcissistic of him, but he loved seeing it, seeing the moment the person he had in his mind fall for him, and with Sniper, it was just then and there. Spy slid his fingers through Sniper’s again and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Please?” Spy asked in a whisper, a thin thread of air that punched Sniper’s guts out of his body. That voice, that damned voice, that accent… “Spend some time with me.”

“Gosh…” Sniper felt the soft waves of air against his neck and his heartbeat accelerated. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Spy’s hand. “Y-you serious?” He whispered back, for no one else to hear, in the secrecy of the dimly lit van.

“What do you think?” Sniper could hear the smirk through Spy’s whisper. “Here I am, in your bed, with you, without my mask. Do you think that it is all staged, all a joke, a prank?”

“I-I don’t know… It’s just… It’s just too good to be true.” Sniper’s breath was hard and fast. He screwed his eyes shut harder and leaned his head on the wall behind him, raising it and feeling Spy’s breath periodically blow on his neck, constantly reminding him that he was there, the gorgeous devil in a suit and tie. Oh Sniper wanted to remember it, he wanted to bottle up those whispers, those intense and secret words, those feelings, bottle them up somewhere and reopen the bottle when he felt too lonely. He wanted to believe Spy’s words.

“Too good to be true? Hm…” Spy smirked and raised a finger. Sniper felt it grazing his skin on his jaw.

“S-Spy…”

The Frenchman turned and slid a leg between the Aussie.

“Let us sleep. You are tense and could do with a bit of rest.” Spy pulled him down to lie and threw away his own tie before opening a couple of buttons on his shirt. He snuggled up against Sniper and used his shoulder as a pillow.

“Spy?”

Sniper raised his head to look down at Spy. The Frenchman looked up at him.

“Oui?”

“You serious?”

Spy graced Sniper with one of those smiles that made the Aussie’s insides burn.

“Oui…” The Frenchman went to his ear. “You can call me Lucien, Mundy.” Sniper’s eyes snapped wide. He turned to look at Spy and his body reacted before his mind could hold it back.

Coffee and nicotine were all he could taste on the thin lips of the man he was holding between his hands, in his bed.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT #request

54 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 4 years

Text

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt 14

hi everyone!! i hope you’re doing super well :) thank you so much for reading rotations and for sending me so many kind words!! you all mean the world to me and i rlly mean that bc i am a very emotional person hehe

pt 1

pt 13

pt 15

There were enough rooms in the house for everyone to have their own and, out of habit, (Y/N) picked the room that had once been hers whenever she stayed with the royal family. It was eerie how little it had changed. It was like it had been frozen in time since she had been eleven. Half-finished letters to her friends on the mainland remained on the desk, their scrolls crinkled at the edges with age. An old painting of her and Zuko hung at her bedside. She took it down immediately and shoved it into a desk drawer.

“This place is amazing!” Sokka yelled as he ran up the steps of the beach house. After being attacked by Azula and being forced to flee the Western Air Temple, at Zuko’s suggestion, the group decided to fly to Ember Island to hide in plain site among the Fire Nation. On their way there, Zuko and Katara had gone on a separate mission to track down the man that killed her mother. While (Y/N) understood the necessity of Katara finding closure, she disapproved of her doing it with Zuko. She especially disapproved of how friendly the two seemed when they returned. Katara had always been her confidant in disliking Zuko and it seemed he had won her over, too.

(Y/N) stopped at the end of the stone path, looking up at the ornate designs carved into the wood that symbolized to who this house belonged. The last time she had been here was years ago, but it felt like it was a lifetime away. So much had changed since then.

Katara nudged her shoulder with her own. “Everything okay?” She asked, a small smile etching into her features. (Y/N) pursed her lips. Katara was the first person that she had ever told the full story of her past. She remembered choking on her words a lot because she was unable to find the happiness in her once good memories. Now that they were back on Ember Island, it was like everything was flooding back to her at once.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, but it was just a second too late to convince Katara that she was being honest. “Being back here just weirds me out.”

Everyone had once again changed back into their Fire Nation clothes and while (Y/N) was comfortable, she felt completely exposed. Like anyone could recognize her at any moment. She had to keep reminding herself that it had been years since these people had seen her.

She dropped her bag and began taking the sheets off the bed so she could wash them. A flash outside of her door caught her eye and she leaned back to see what it was. In the room across the hall, Zuko was hanging clothes in his wardrobe. She tensed. How could she have forgotten that their rooms had been across from one another? It would be doubly difficult to avoid him now.

She tried to talk to Zuko as little as possible if it could be avoided. It made her upset, seeing that all of her friends were gradually becoming more friendly with him. She had been happy before he had entered their group and she would be happy again once he went away. All she had to do was wait it out.

Quickly, she gathered her bedsheets into a bundle and darted out of her door, down the hall, and down the stairs, where Katara had already set up buckets of water and soap to wash their clothes. She silently sat down beside her friend and began scrubbing.

“You’re gonna rub a hole into those if you keep scrubbing so hard.” She looked up to see Katara raising an eyebrow at her.

“These haven’t been used in years, I just want them to be clean.” In reality, she wanted to scrub those sheets free of the long, sleepless nights she had spent thinking about her future with Zuko.

“I’m surprised that Zuko wanted to come back here,” Katara said in an effort to start a conversation with him. “The last time he was here, he was with Azula and those two girls.”

“Mai and Ty Lee.”

“You knew them?” (Y/N) nodded.

“I went to school with them. They were all a grade below me. Ty Lee ran away and joined the circus and Mai had the biggest crush on Zuko.” She frowned and Katara must have noticed it, because her friend giggled. “What?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? Zuko can date anyone he wants. I don’t care.” Katara hummed knowingly and (Y/N) splashed her with soapy water. It irritated her that friends were always trying to act like they knew something she didn’t.

After they had finished doing laundry and eating lunch, the entire group wanted to sit on the back steps of the house to enjoy the nice weather. Despite being in the Fire Nation, Ember Island was beautiful and its weather was almost always temperate. Everyone besides Aang and Zuko sat while the two boys practiced their firebending. Aang was getting better with each passing day, but (Y/N) noticed he was still holding back. With firebending, you have to give it your all, or else your flames would be weak. She told him this as he ran back to the steps for a water break.

“I want to be able to be in control of my fire,” he said. He glanced over at Katara, who looked away. She knew he still blamed himself for accidentally burning her.

“You can be in control and still put your whole being behind it. Firebenders attack with their whole self, because we have fire inside of us. You have it too, you just need to let it out.”

“(Y/N) knows what she’s talking about,” Zuko said. “She was one of the best prodigies back in the Fire Nation.”

“Don’t do that,” she snapped at him. Zuko looked at her, surprised. “Don’t just bring up the past like we’re reminiscing on good times.” She stood so she was eye level with the former prince. “And you’re crazy if you think you can get back on my good side just by complimenting me.”

“(Y/N)-”

“No! You’ll let me speak. For years I tried to reason why you would just drop me like I was nothing to you. Like we didn’t spend ever summer for years on this island, together, and that I didn’t spend almost every waking moment of every day at your side. You left me in the Fire Nation and even after our fights, even after you captured me to take me back to the Fire Nation as a war criminal, I still believed that there was some good in you. You sure fooled me! You had been fooling me for years and I just never realized it. And then, after everything I said to you in your uncle’s tea shop, you betrayed me. You ran home to the people who had been nothing but evil to you from the moment we met and left me in a prison to rot!”

This was the most she had spoken to Zuko since he had joined their group. The fire that raged in her eyes was apparent, and Katara was close enough to see the flames dancing on her fingertips.

“And then you want to come here and act like everything is fine? You want to befriend my friends, the people that cared for me when you didn’t, and bring up the good times we had and just completely forget that for the past three years you treated me like I was nothing! Every fight we had, I held myself back because no matter how hard I tried to, I couldn’t hurt you!”

She shot a fire ball at him that missed by a few inches. Zuko stepped back as (Y/N) walked down to the beach. “You want to be here so badly? Prove it! Fight me!”

“(Y/N),” Zuko began.

“I challenge you to an Agni Kai!” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She and her friends realized the weight of what she had said quickly. Zuko set his jaw, his fists balled at his sides.

She regretted what she had said as soon as it came out of her mouth. She was just so angry and as she looked at Zuko, it was hard to not get angrier. Angry for leaving her behind in the Fire Nation, angry for betraying her in Ba Sing Se, and angry for being able to fit himself back into her life so easily.

(Y/N) made the first attack, which Zuko dodged. She shot flames at his head, body, and feet and their friends watched in astonishment as they jumped, flipped, and kicked their way around each other.

“It’s like they’re dancing,” Suki said. Aang narrowed his eyes.

“He’s on the defense,” he said.

“What?” Toph asked.

“Zuko isn’t fighting her back.”

Their friends could feel the flames get hotter as her anger toward Zuko eventually took control. She was getting sloppy with her movements and instead chose to shoot fire at Zuko every chance she got. Katara stood to diffuse the situation, but Sokka grabbed her arm.

“They have to do this,” he said.

(Y/N) was ruthless. She knew she didn’t want to hurt Zuko, but she couldn’t stop herself. Years of anger were reaching their boiling point in this battle.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Zuko shouted at her.

“You already did!” She shouted back, jumping into the air and smacking her fists to the sand, sending a wave of fire at him. The flames had spread around them, encircling them in a ring of fire. Her fists were lit with fire blasts. “Fight me back!” She screamed, shooting balls of fire at him. He had been dodging her attacks and slashing through her flames. Not once had he shot fire at her. “Do something!”

“I won’t!” Zuko shouted over the roar of the flames. “I don’t want this!”

(Y/N) could feel the tears streaming down her face. If he fought her, she would have a reason to retaliate. She would have an answer for hurting him, just like he hurt her. Zuko’s amber eyes stared in to her own.

“I won’t fight you.”

She was twelve again, watching with tear-filled eyes as Zuko knelt to the ground in front of his father, begging him for mercy. She remembered the fear in his voice and the way he screamed when his father burned him right after he had said the very same words he was saying to her. “I won’t fight you!”

The flames died down instantly. (Y/N) brought her hands to her mouth and slowly fell to her knees, her body shaking with sobs. Her tears hit the hot sand around her.

She felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her body close to theirs. Zuko rested his chin atop of her head and rubbed her back, his own tears sliding down his cheeks. She pulled away to look up at him. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy from her tears, and her bottom lip quivered as she held in a sob, but Zuko still felt his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t want--”

“I know,” was all Zuko said. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tightly, tucking her face into his neck like she had when they were kids. They sat like that for what felt like hours, until one by one, they felt their friends wrap their arms around them.

---

Tag List!

@mdgrdians , @soft4kei , @bubblebars , @pleasantfankingdom , @vintageroses1014516 , @celamoon , @fangirlanotherjust , @gliderbudgie , @haylaansmi , @jada-cleo , @boxofteenageideas , @disgruntled-gay , @lie-ana , @jasmine-the-amazing , @svsoftie , @buckysfeet , @anime-simp , @imcravingyou , @rosetheshapeshifter , @alrightberries , @izzieserra , @hstott , @random-stupid-stuffs , @jackbamexpress , @jainaixo , @thefoxskinwalker , @kryptidkova , @bigbuckyenergy , @omgwhattheeven , @ohmigooosh , @snapchatisoverrated , @inlove-maze , @harapirena , @sooske , @sweeetteaa , @selenvx , @ilovespideyyy , @saaaasib , @mochminnie , @agentsofblinks , @happyariesbabey , @slytherky , @uglipotata72829 , @og-disaster-bi , @animeluver23

#atla #avatar #zuko x reader #sokka x reader #aang x reader #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #azula #iroh #toph #suki #momo #appa #the last airbender #writing #fanfiction

917 notes · View notes

dessarious · 4 years

Text

Guilt and Consequences

Okay, so this is just something that wouldn’t leave me alone. It has absolutely nothing to do with my other fics and may actually be a one shot. (We all know that’s not something I do but hey I can hope). Anyway, I’ve always hated the way Lila’s character was done. For so many reasons. The biggest issue I had was that there’s never any explanation for her personality. Sure, there is a small percentage of people that are straight up evil, but not many and it’s lazy writing to make a character, villain or otherwise, with absolutely no reason to be the way they are. If you’re not going to flesh out a character don’t make them a focal point period. Okay I’ll stop ranting now. This is in no way canon, nor is it meant to be.

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

AO3 Next

“You told her what?!” Adrien flinched as Lila yelled in his face but she didn’t care. This idiot had completely destroyed all her plans with no thought what so ever. How had things gotten so bad?

“It doesn’t do any good to put more pressure on the situation. I told Marinette that you’d come around once you got the attention you wanted, so she should just let it go. Take the high road.” She was dangerously close to punching him in his sanctimonious face. The only thing stopping her was that getting arrested for assault wasn’t something she wanted to experience right now. Not to mention she now had to try and fix this insanity.

“That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ignoring things may work with paparazzi but that is not how you should deal with anything else. More often than not ignoring a problem just makes it worse.

“I’ve been ignoring Chloe’s bad behavior for years and she’s getting better.” Lila felt like her head was going to explode. As good as Adrien was in science he apparently didn’t understand causal relationships. The boy was far too dense to survive in the real world.

“As I understand things, Chloe didn’t start improving until Marinette stood up to her and Ladybug called her out on her bad behavior. Your enabling simply allowed her to continue what she was doing without consequences. People don’t change without a reason Adrien. Most need a pretty enticing incentive to do anything out of the norm.” She couldn’t deal with this anymore. Lila knew that she wasn’t going to make him see the error in his thinking. Everyone thought of Adrien as a ray of sunshine but she’d seen first hand how hard he held onto ideas even when all the evidence pointed to the opposite conclusion. Instead she turned and walked away as he yelled justifications at her back. She knew he wouldn’t actually follow her because his ride should be there any second. He wouldn’t risk getting in trouble, no matter how much he wanted her to agree with him.

She didn’t even know where she was going at this point, just wandering randomly while she thought. Everything had gotten so out of hand. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. She didn’t think so. It’s like the perfect storm of stupid, incompetence, and compliance had coalesced into this mass of insanity that she couldn’t see a way out of. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She’d done the same thing dozens of times with the exact same result. Why did things have to turn out so differently this time?

Before she knew it Lila was standing in front of a building she had no wish to enter. She knew she had to, but honestly she would rather step into traffic. Still, if there was any hope of salvaging things this was where she had to start. She just hoped she’d be able to get out some sort of explanation before they threw her out. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning! What can I do for you dear?” Lila hesitated. Surely Marinette had told her parents about what was going on, right?

“Madam, my name is Lila Rossi. I was hoping to talk to Marinette.” There was absolutely no recognition in the woman's eyes. What the hell kind of alternate reality was she in? From everything she could gather Marinette had a great relationship with her parents. Even if she had let Adrien talk her into staying quiet at school, why would she hide what was going on from them?

“Of course, and you can call me Sabine dear, no need to be so formal.” She followed as Sabine led her up the stairs at the back of the bakery and into a little apartment. Lila had lived in a lot of places, but not one of them had ever said home the way this tiny space did. “Marinette’s room is up there. I have to get back down to the bakery, just knock before you go in.” Lila could only stare at the woman’s retreating back in panic. There was no way Marinette wanted her of all people anywhere near her room. She’d expected Sabine to get her to come out here. She looked back at the trapdoor with no idea how to proceed.

Eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the stairs. A few minutes and many attempts later, she managed a timid knock. There was a muffled ‘come in’ and Lila almost had a heart attack. Now what? Against her better judgement she slowly opened the door and poked her head up. She saw Marinette hunched over her sewing machine, not paying any attention to who had entered. But what caught her attention was the bruise on Marinette’s cheek and a strip of gauze around her forehead. Lila’s anger from earlier reignited with a passion and before she knew it she was in the room standing directly behind the girl.

“How could you listen to that moron’s advice?” She winced the moment the words came out of her mouth. That was not how she wanted to start this. Marinette jumped and actually fell off the chair. Lila flinched back at the fear in the girls eyes when they registered who she was.

“Wh- What are you doing here?” Marinette’s eyes were darting every which way, looking for escape routes or something to defend herself with most likely. It hurt knowing that this was all her fault.

“I… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then why did you yell at her dumbass? “I’m here because…” Why exactly was she here? She really should have planned this out, or at least had any idea of what she was going to say. “I’m here because I need to apologize to you, and I think you deserve an explanation for why I apparently destroyed your life.” Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Lila couldn’t blame her.

“You want to apologize to me?” The skeptical tone caused her to break eye contact. It was well deserved but Lila didn’t even know where to start. She was a selfish creature by nature so apologies didn’t come naturally, but this was something that needed to be done.

“Yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I never thought…” She couldn’t continue. No apology and no explanation was good enough for what Marinette had gone through because of this mess. Lila didn’t even know everything because apparently the class had been bullying Marinette for over a month but they’d kept it from her because she was too ‘nice’ and wouldn’t have approved. How did you even begin to make up for something like that?

“You never thought what? That your plan to take away all my friends would affect me? That you making my school life a living hell would hurt me?” The girl sounded pissed and Lila couldn’t blame her but the tone sent her into her defensive mode anyway.

“I never thought anyone would believe the garbage coming out of my mouth!” Marinette blinked at her in confusion, all the fight suddenly gone.

“What?” Lila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where did she even start? None of this was going to make sense to Marinette. Honestly she wasn’t certain it made sense to her anymore either.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Marinette motioned her to continue. “My mom is a diplomat, that wasn’t a lie. She’s something of a fixer. Basically when a situation has escalated too far they bring her in to smooth things over. Because of that she gets moved a lot more often than most. I think the longest we’ve lived in one place is about nine months.”

“And that makes it okay for you to lie and bully people for no reason?” Bully? She hadn’t considered that before. From Marinette’s perspective she understood why she said it though. Especially after the bathroom incident. Lila winced.

“I didn’t mean to… The lying has a purpose but I’ve never had to escalate things before. It’s not an excuse, I should have considered things better. I just…” She just what? She’d just been so focused on her goal that she hadn’t bothered to look at the collateral damage. Hadn’t even considered that there would be. “Look just let me explain, then you can yell at me.” If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Fine.” Lila shifted nervously as Marinette’s full attention was focused on listening to her. Having that much animosity directed at her was extremely uncomfortable.

“So when I was little the moves were more frequent. Because of that my mother hired tutors and enrolled me in online classes rather than try to attend school. There didn’t seem to be any point in having me adapt to a new place and teachers every couple of months. About three years ago things slowed down a little and she decided it would be good for me to socialize with other kids. Despite my best efforts, I was enrolled in school. I hated it.” That was a vast understatement. The curriculum wasn’t advanced enough and the kids were all immature and annoying. The teachers were boring too. Not to mention that she was used to learning at her own pace and having the ability to choose subjects that actually interested her. School was basically torture.

“I wasn’t happy and told my mother so but she thought I just needed time to adjust so she basically told me to suck it up and deal with it.” She’d had a perfectly researched and reasoned argument but her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. “A couple days later a boy was annoying me. He refused to leave me alone after I’d told him many times to stop and eventually I snapped and punched him in the nose.” It had felt really good at the time.

“Really?” Marinette sounded somewhere between horrified and amused and was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Really. I was sent to the principal and he called my mother. I was expelled because they had a zero tolerance policy for violence. My mother was not happy with me and lectured me about solving my problems in a different way, but she let me homeschool again because she wasn’t certain how long we’d be there and didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another school. I thought I’d won, until the next time we moved and she put me in school again.” Once again she’d argued to be allowed to stay with homeschooling. Once again her mother had ignored her.

“Let me guess, you just walked up and punched someone the first day?” Lila let out a snort of amusement and shook her head.

“No. Mother made it very clear that physical violence had far too many repercussions, so I had to get creative. I read the school rules trying to find the easiest way to get thrown out. I tried disrupting class constantly, but that just landed me in detention. So then I tried stealing. That got me thrown out quickly enough, but it also could have had legal ramifications that I didn’t understand at the time. My mother made it very clear to me after though.” Yet another fun conversation where her mother talked at her and wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Lila couldn’t understand how she could be such a good diplomat and still have no idea how to listen to her own daughter.

“So you got to homeschool again?” She blinked at Marinette for a moment before nodding. She’d gotten lost in her own thoughts. “But I’m going to assume it didn’t last.”

“No. Every time we move she tries again. I don’t understand why she bothers. The next few schools I refined my technique. I found out that lying was the easiest and least complicated way to get thrown out quickly. They just don’t want to deal with it. Each school has slightly different thresholds but I found that obvious misinformation coupled with lying about medical conditions usually got me back home within a week. I thought I had it down to a science, until we moved here.”

“So wait… you’ve just been trying to get expelled this entire time?” Marinette was looking at her like she’d grown another head. Lila wasn’t surprised. To anyone else what she did sounded insane and maybe it was a little. But it worked and she was a very results driven person. “What about the Akumatizations?”

“What about them?” Lila couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything.

“If you wanted to be found out, why were you so upset you became Volpina and Chameleon?” Lila winced. She’d watched the limited footage and remembered how she’d reacted after. She’d been disoriented and confused and had just lashed out.

“I was expecting Adrien to call me out. The necklace I showed him came from his father’s line after all. I misjudged how involved he was in the industry apparently. I wasn’t expecting or prepared for an actual Superhero to call me out. I’ll admit I reacted badly, but in my defense I didn’t know then how little it took for Hawkmoth to Akumatize someone.” That had been a less than pleasant realization. Maybe she should try and apologize to Ladybug after this as well. It wasn’t the hero’s fault that Lila couldn’t deal with normal social interaction and lashed out when she felt threatened.

“And Chameleon?” Lila winced at the soft question. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d threatened Marinette. Well that wasn’t completely true but she didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she saw the Akuma.

“You were the only person who seemed to have a spine and didn’t believe the bullshit I came up with. I was trying to push you into reporting me to the teacher or convincing everyone else that I was lying. I’ve never been in a situation where people actually thought that my lies were real before. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “After I left I realized how harsh I’d been and was coming back to make sure you were okay when the Akuma phased through the wall and straight into me. Apparently my being mad at myself for overreacting was enough to let him in, again.”

“Why keep lying though? You had to have realized it wasn’t working at some point so why keep doing it?” That was a really good question and she didn’t have a good answer. Lila ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“At first I thought that I just needed bigger lies. I also expected the teacher or principal to call my mother and verify the ‘disabilities’ I said I had. Other than that I guess it was just habit. It’s what I’ve always done in that situation and I didn’t know what else to do if I’m being honest. Everyday I’d tell myself that today was when everyone would see through the bullshit. That’s also why I started lying about you.” Once again, in hindsight it was an extremely stupid move. Marinette looked confused.

“You’ve been lying to the class about me thinking it would make them realize what you were doing?” Yeah, it was a really stupid plan.

“Yes. I did my research. Everyone loved you. You were the class rep for crying out loud! I thought that lying about you would get them to at least think things through. I mean they’re supposed to be your friends. They’re supposed to know your character well enough to question it when someone says you’re doing something so completely off track from your normal. I didn’t expect them to believe me without question and I absolutely didn’t expect them to retaliate and hide it from me.”

Marinette’s head snapped up in shock. She was looking for something in Lila’s eyes but Lila wasn’t sure what it was. The girl's expression softened suddenly and before she knew it, Lila was on the receiving end of a crushing hug. What the hell?

“If you’re trying to suffocate me there are easier ways to do it.” The words just popped out and Lila winced again. So maybe her mom had a point about her needing more social interaction. It still didn’t mean she should be forced to endure school. She felt Marinette let out an amused huff and pulled back.

“So what brought on this need to come clean?” Lila’s eyes automatically went to Marinette’s injuries before snapping away to the wall.

“Alya slipped and told me what they did last night. I went to Adrien first since he knew Ladybug called me out to try and get him to make the others see sense, or at least help you protect yourself. That’s when he told me what he said to you.” She felt her anger resurfacing just thinking about that conversation.

“That’s what you meant.” Lila just blinked at Marinette in confusion. “When you first got here you yelled at me about taking a moron’s advice.” Lila winced at the reminder but nodded. “Apparently you’re not the only one prone to making mistakes and snap judgments.” Her tone was dry but still held a trace of amusement. Lila wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’ll text my mother and have her come here after work so I can explain what’s going on to her and your parents.” It was the least she could do. There was no way to fix this, but at least she could come clean.

“You can’t do that! What if one of them gets Akumatized over it?” Lila just frowned at Marinette. She couldn’t be serious. Her worried expression said otherwise.

“You can’t keep letting people hurt you because you’re scared how they’ll react. Hawkmoth is going to keep using people and that’s not your fault. It’s not your job to make everyone happy, especially not at the expense of your physical and mental well being. They need to know what’s going on so you can get out of that toxic school environment.” Marinette actually rolled her eyes.

“Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean it’s a toxic environment.” Lila stared at her in shock. Marinette was serious. The phrase ‘what the hell’ was quickly becoming her new mantra.

“You’re kidding right? Your teacher avoids her job at all costs by making the class police itself. She blames the victims for things they have no control over because it’s easier than actually confronting someone. The principal hasn’t once tried to call my mother to verify absences or illness. That’s not even including your classmates who have gone full Lord of the Flies over a bunch of lies.” How could she possibly think any of this was okay? Marinette seemed confused as she mulled over Lila’s words. How long had this shit been going on?

“I suppose it may seem that way to someone walking into it, but I think your prejudice against school in general is part of your viewpoint. Things have always worked themselves out before and I’m sure everyone will come around eventually.” She was going to have an aneurysm. Apparently Marinette was just as bad as Adrien at holding on to things despite the evidence. She reached out and gently touched the gauze on Marinette’s forehead.

“They could have killed you. Alya especially is prone to acting without thinking things through or caring about the consequences. It’s why she posted all those ridiculous interviews. Honestly I’m surprised she hasn’t been sued yet. I took care of the site though.” She wasn’t even paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, too focused on where Marinette’s blood was seeping through. This was all her fault.

“What do you mean you took care of the site?” Marinette’s tone was off but she couldn’t place the tone.

“Hacking is one of the things that I actually like doing. I took down everything with me and purged it from her harddrive. I also took down that stupid picture of Ladybug and Chat kissing after Oblivio. It’s not much but it’s as much of an apology I could manage to Ladybug even if she never knows who did it.” Alya had ranted for days about the Heroine’s denial. It was beyond annoying at the time.

“Why do you want to apologize to Ladybug?” Lila blinked at her before letting out a sigh.

“After my Akumatizations I said some things… let’s just say I wasn’t in a great headspace. I tend to go feral when I feel threatened. Add that to the whole lying and keeping in character to get expelled… She has enough to deal with without hormonal teenagers mouthing off at her.” Marinette was studying her again and Lila couldn’t read her expression at all. It made her more nervous than she would have thought.

“I still don’t think we should tell our parents. Maybe we can turn things around ourselves.” Damn it. The girl was out of her mind.

“That school is a breeding ground for bullies and narcissists. The administration needs to be held accountable for their neglect or who knows how many others could get hurt. There needs to be consequences or things will never change.” There was no way they could fix this themselves. She wasn’t even sure teams of lawyers and therapists could fix this at this point. Marinette was frowning again. Lila wanted to convince her this was the right thing, but if push came to shove she would tell the Dupain-Chengs the truth so they could do something about this. Her mother would just want to bury it to keep Lila out of trouble. Marinette’s parents would do what they had to to protect their daughter, at least she hoped they would.

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt… Maybe we can talk to the principal. If we say we’re going to look into a lawsuit or call the police, maybe he’ll change.” Lila rolled her eyes.

“He won’t take anything seriously coming from two teenagers. Look, I realize your self preservation instincts aren’t very strong but you need to tell your parents what’s going on. If nothing else you can transfer schools. Honestly, you probably should.” She looked devastated at the thought and Lila’s guilt came back full force. She knew that she couldn’t control the actions of others, but if she hadn’t worked them up they never would have gone after Marinette of all people. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. Marinette probably would have been perfectly happy not knowing what her classmates were capable of.

“I can’t just leave my friends.”

“What friends? The only person who has bothered to tell me to back off is Chloe. Something about you being more fun to square off with when you actually have a spine.” That girl was at least what she seemed. Lila could respect that far more than Adrien’s fake personality. In his defense she didn’t think he was doing it out of spite, he’d just been playing a part most of his life and probably had no idea who he was, let alone how to be himself.

“They didn’t mean it. I’m sure once they understand the situation they’ll calm down.” There had to be a way to get through to her, but Lila was getting far too frustrated to think things through properly. As usual, her mouth went into gear before her brain.

“If we tell them what’s going on now they’ll just transfer all that anger to me, assuming they don’t think you threatened me into backing up your story that is. Sadly, I have a feeling that it’ll be the second.” She would be fine with the first honestly. It would give her a reason to have her mother pull her out of school. Unfortunately given the class’s track record she couldn’t chance it. Alya could easily whip everyone else into a frenzy if she decided Marinette was forcing Lila to back her version of events. The girl hadn’t been able to find the truth yet so there was no reason to think she would come to her senses now.

“I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want them going after you.” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“What you did was wrong but you don’t deserve to be bullied for it. I don’t want to be part of the reason that would happen.” Her supposed friends attacking her didn’t phase her at all, but the thought of those same friends bullying the person who’d set them on her in the first place caused her to pause. Lila would never understand that mindset.

“So can we at least talk to your parents about what’s happening? This has gone way past too far and I really don’t think we’ll be able to stop it by ourselves. Please.” Marinette finally nodded and Lila felt a tightness in her chest loosen. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

AO3 Next

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #lila rossi #adrien agreste

415 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years

Text

By Any Other Name (15)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.1k warnings: SMUT (18+), rumlow is a piece of shit, drug trafficking, cannon level violence, a serious emotional roller coaster because there was no good way to split these chapters 🌹series masterlist 🌹

Bucky was sick to his stomach; bile etching up his throat, rancid and bitter to his tongue, cooper pooling behind his lips. He felt the drip of feverish sweat drip down his neck. Nails digging into his own palms, puncturing skin, though he barely noticed the sting of it. How could he possibly pay attention to anything but the way you were leaning into your husband, giggling at his stupid jokes, fingers trailing along his jaw line in gentle strokes the way you touched him just hours earlier.

Your legs were thrown over Rumlow’s lap as you squeezed in beside him on the couch, tucked between the arm of the sofa and your husband’s grimy hands sliding along your lower back. You laughed at something he said and Bucky had to remind himself that it was an act, a ruse to get Rumlow to fall in line and lead you straight to the heart of his smuggling operation.

You were a better actor than Bucky gave you credit for, though it didn’t seem to ease his discomfort at seeing you this close to a man who had ripped your life to pieces.

Twenty-four hours. That’s all it took for Rumlow to fall to your spell. It turned out he was as needy for your devotion as he was for the money lining his pockets. You were right, that he would easily succumb to you the moment you started to show an interest. It was his fantasy; to rule Hydra with a beautiful woman on his arm, one who’s eagerness followed him outside of public events and into the private halls of this home. He liked the attention, the validation, the power over a woman who spend years despising him.

It was a game to him. One, he believed he won.

“What’s gotten into you, baby?” Rumlow drawled, his hands slithering along your thighs, slipping along your curves, and Bucky could see your sharp intake of breath even from his place at the far corner of the room. Rumlow didn’t seem to notice your tension solidifying to stone even with his hands upon you.

“I got tired of fighting this. Fighting us,” you replied breathily, expertly pulling the resentment from your voice and molding it to something light and sweet. It sounded foreign in your voice. “I got tired of telling myself I was better than all this, but the truth is… it’s me and you, Brock. It’s always been me and you.”

“That’s right,” he growled, his lips touching your jawline and Bucky tried to avert his eyes, tried to find something interesting in the room to stare holes into until he could count every last detail, every last molecule in the surface, but he couldn’t. He was drawn right back to you, tangled in Rumlow’s arms.

“I want in,” you said, crossing your legs over one another as his hand traveled along the top of your thigh; purposeful effort to block his path.

“Hydra is a tall order, baby. It’s not as pretty as you are.”

“I’ve seen the blood. I’ve seen the bodies in the basement.”

“And if I recall, you were rather upset with me for what happened with your cousin, but that’s the business, baby. That’s something you have to be on board with,” Rumlow warned, voice muffled by your neck as he kissed at the skin there.

Your jaw was clenched, eyes burning with rage while he was otherwise occupied, and Bucky watched as you tightened your hands to fists to stop the shaking. You did not spare him a glance, no casual look in his direction. He didn’t suspect you could stand it, not with Rumlow’s lips on you like that.

“I understand now,” you told him, voice surprisingly even as you ran your fingers through his jet-black hair. He pulled back and a short wave of relief eased at your shoulders. “Let me stand by you the way you’ve always wanted. I’m done with the shadows and that stupid library. I want you. I want Hydra.”

Heat in his chest, like fire and envy, Bucky clenched his jaw, wired shut. He wondered how those words felt on your tongue as you said them, if they tasted of the bile in his mouth or if your stomach was in painful, aching knots. He wondered how hard it was for you to dismiss the only room of this house you felt safe in. He wondered if you wanted to scream the way he did.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Rumlow smirked, pleased by your offers. His lips returned to your neck, marking skin to bruising colors, claims on your body visible for everyone to see, and Bucky had never wanted to kill a man more in his life.

“We have company,” you said quietly, a slight tremor in your voice he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care.

Your eyes met Bucky’s across the room for only a short moment, a wave of pain there; lingering guilt, sadness, remorse, to have another man’s hands on you, lips on you, marks on your body that do not belong to the man you love. It was the first time you’d looked in his direction since you started this charade.

Bucky wanted to tell you that it was okay, that he -- more than anyone else -- knew what it meant to push pieces of yourself aside for the sake of an assignment, but before he could offer you even the smallest of an encouraging smile, Rumlow’s hand on your leg caught his attention.

It pushed between your thighs despite the tight cross of your legs, slipping higher up, and your wide eyes flashed towards Bucky in panic.

“Sir,” Bucky coughed, stepping out from his place in the corner of the room; the silent guard, the observer to his own heartache. Rumlow pulled back from you, rolling his eyes and his hand slipped out from your legs. It was a momentary relief.

“What do you want, Karpov? I’m a little busy with my wife.”

He had to say something. Anything. Keep that piece of shit away from his girl.

“There are some orders for the shipment tonight that need your sign off,” Bucky said shortly. It wasn’t a lie, at least, and it may kill two birds with one stone.

“Jesus, fine,” Rumlow groaned, pushing your legs off of him rather harshly as he moved to stand. He brushed down his thighs, pushing over wrinkles in his slacks and a clear budge at his crotch he made no effort to hide.

Sharp pain in Bucky’s palms again.

“You know what?” Rumlow started, pausing at the edge of the room as he turned back to you. “Why don’t you come with me? You want to be front and center, baby? I’ll show you where the magic happens.”

You grinned, eyes brightening as you jumped up from the couch. It was like an entirely different person, a mask of a woman Rumlow always wanted you to be, and you threw yourself into his embrace. Arms wrapped around his neck, a slow kiss to his cheek, and Bucky could feel his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest.

He moved to follow, but Rumlow held up a hand.

“Stay here, Karpov. I think I can handle my wife alone.”

Bucky’s eyes quickly flashed to yours, unwilling to leave you alone with this monster for even a second, but you gave him a short nod, tight on your smile. The steadiness of the movement, the subtly of it, and you told him through watchful eyes to stand down.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

“Yes, sir,” he replied flatly, stepping back though everything in him urged him to you. He watched as you intertwined your fingers to Rumlow’s, tugging him along to the office, to behind closed doors, and Bucky swallowed back the bile in his throat for the third time that morning.

***

“He agreed!” you exclaimed quietly, sliding between the double doors to your library where Bucky was there waiting for you.

Bucky sat on the couch, just on the very edge, tension tight throughout his body because you’d been gone for over an hour. He tried not to look for the sighs he knew so well in you; the slight tussle of your hair, the collar of your shirt uneven around your neck, a flush in your cheeks and a heaviness in your breath.

He was too distracted to realize you were perfectly put together. Not a hair out of place.

“He’ll take me to the docks tonight,” you confirmed again, smiling wide as you plopped down on the couch beside him, sinking in the cushions and sliding closer to him. The length of your thigh pressed to his and he wrung his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, hunched over.

“James?”

He didn’t respond, too afraid it might come out like the garbled mess inside his head.

“I was expecting a little more of a reaction here. This is what we were hoping for isn’t it?” you chuckled nervously, hand sliding up his spine. Goosebumps trailed in your wake but he kept his eyes on the coffee table, on a particular stained ring at the center, overlapped to another, the evidence of your endless nights in this sanctuary.

When he didn’t respond again, you asked, “honey, what’s wrong?”

Bucky shook his head. He heard Rumlow start up the car outside minutes before you arrived, off to a short meeting downtown before the shipment arrived in the evening. Last minute arrangements to be checked off.

“I know I have no right to ask you this,” Bucky started, voice feeling thick and heavy on his tongue, “and you don’t have to answer. I know that you’re only doing this to put an end to Hydra and you’re risking so much to help us lock him up, but—”

“Are you asking if I slept with him?”

You were surprised as you leaned back to the couch, hand falling away from his back. A chill swept through his body in the absence of your touch and he turned back to look at you, guilt ridden and through hooded eyes, shielding over deep blue. He nodded.

“James,” you sighed achingly, “I told you I wouldn’t let it come to that. Regardless if I was with you or not. I’m not letting that piece of shit ever touch me again.”

A stone lifted from the pit of his stomach, though it still burned.

“All I had to do was stand a little closer to him,” you said slowly, watching his expression carefully, “tell him he was big and strong, stroke his ego a bit. He showed me the papers, explained it to me like I was five-years-old, as if I didn’t have multiple graduate degrees. He likes to put his hands on me; gives him some sense of control, but all I did was kiss his cheek. He tastes like cigar smoke, James. It’s disgusting.”

Bucky nodded, feeling rather foolish for letting his jealousy get the best of him. He tried to parade it as his protectiveness for you, but he knew better than that. You could carry your own and you would not give yourself to Rumlow if you didn’t want to, if you didn’t feel like it was the only option. He knew you’d do anything to finish this case and be done with that man for good, but you would not do that.

“I guess,” Bucky sighed, nervously scratching at the back of his head, “I just thought—”

“Well, don’t,” you replied quickly, teasing in your voice. You slid closer to him, pulling his hand into your own as you played with the lines in his palm, tracing over old scars and molding his fingers the way you wanted. He liked the way it felt, the submission of it.

Slowly, you caught his eye, a darkness coming about you as you smiled under your long lashes. With his hand in your left, you unfastened the button at the top of your jeans and slid down the zipper. Bucky watched, swallowing as you slowly guided his hand between the fabric and the silkiness of your skin.

Your hand over his, he touched over course curls of hair before he found a heavenly smooth, wetness pooling at his fingertips. He choked back a moan, watching the way you chewed at the edge of your lip.

“You are the only man that gets to touch me like this, do you understand? Only you.”

Bucky nodded, cupping at your folds. Your hand still placed over his, you pressed on his fingers like the keys of a piano and he willingly slipped his fingers between the lips at your core, sending visible shivers up your spine.

“Only me,” he repeated, two fingers circling at your entrance as you bit down hard on your lip, a gasp at its edge.

“Only you,” you said again, breathily, eyes fluttering shut as two fingers pushed inside you.

There wasn’t enough give in your jeans, not enough space for him to bring you to the edge the way he wanted to, so he pulled his hand back gently, much to the adorable pout pushing at your lips, and he chuckled as he started to tug at the waist of your jeans.

“Let it be only me then, sweetheart, and help me out,” he laughed, struggling to get them down over your hips because you wore them tight to your skin, like a second layer, and while he usually loved seeing the curves of your body so prominent in the light of day, it made for quite the inconvenience in the shadows.

You were grinning, picking up your hips from the couch as you laid back down, and scooted the fabric down to your thighs, where he was able to do the rest. Your panties came down along with them, and before you could even berate him for not following suit, he stripped himself of his own pants, leaving him exposed to you.

“We don’t have long,” he told you, knowing Rumlow’s schedule for the day by heart. It was an important day, after all. If all went well, he’d be behind bars by the nights’ end.

“Don’t need long,” you replied cheekily, gripping at his waist and guiding him to you. You tilted your hips upward, easing him inside of you in one swift motion. Bucky moaned loudly, muffling it into your shoulder.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart,” he whined, propped up on his elbows over soft cushions as he tried to find his breath. “You’re so goddamn tight. Feels so good. So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you smirked, moving your hips just enough to make him gasp. “It’s all yours.”

Bucky chuckled nervously, trying to mask the very real throbbing of his cock inside of you; squeezed and on the brink just from the feel of your walls around him, holding him.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me, darlin’. I’m not gonna last.”

You shrugged, mischievous and completely unbothered. The way you smiled up at him, moon and stars and sun in your eyes, he wondered if he could just stay in this moment for eternity and be happy. He was sure that he could.

“You did say there wasn’t much time, didn’t you?” you teased, devilish smirk upon your lips.

“Guess I did, huh?”

“Better get a move on, James.” You pushed up against him again, the slight movement enough to pull a gasping whine from him; the tension of jealousy lingering in his veins and sensitive in all the right places.

You were a gigging mess, masking it in kisses to his shoulder, to his neck. Bucky couldn’t quite focus straight, not on anything but the warm, wonderful feel of you wrapped so tightly around him as he pushed into you, over and over, grinding down and breathing hot to your skin. Your hands roaming his back, his spine, his stomach under his shirt. Your touch was like heaven wherever it went.

It didn’t take long, not that either of you minded; especially when he snuck his hand down between your bodies and rubbed rushed and pressured circles at your clit. You gasped into his shoulder, nails digging to his back, and he marked his own colorful kiss to the curve of your breast.

“Right there – ah, yes – don’t stop,” you whined and every word, every syllable uttered in the thick, intoxicating cadence of your voice was like honey to him. It ran down through his veins, warmed him from the inside out, and he didn’t let up, not until you were withering and crying his name.

Well, not his name.

But still.

“James! Ah – God. I’m so close, so close.”

“I’m right there, love.”

Walls clenched impossibly tight around him and Bucky closed his eyes, unable to watch the way your lips parted, eyelids fluttering because he was already at the edge of his peak, but he needed to hold out for you.

And then it hit, you cried out, stilling under him as he kept up his movements, hips snapping to yours, pressure in delicious circles between your legs, and Bucky pressed his nose to your neck, breathing you in as found the relief to let go.

He spilled into you with a sudden gasp, his arms giving out as he fell onto you, hips lazily thrusting through the few final waves of that rush of bliss and warmth and unparalleled pleasure. He was panting, breathless, when he picked his head up again. You were grinning at him, pulling him in to kiss at his lips.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I’m not,” Bucky replied with a slight chuckle. “Only when it’s your psycho husband and I know you’d rather have just about anyone else on this planet touching you the way he was.”

“Not anyone else,” you told him with a smirk. “Just you.”

“Right,” Bucky laughed, kissing your cheek. Joy and love and heaven in your smile. “Just me.”

***

The air was crisp down by the water; smelling of sea salt and ocean life, the brush of waves to the posts of the dock. The overhead lights illuminating the boardwalk were dim, flickering in the distance, because Hydra operated in the shadows, even amongst the night.

Bucky trailed a few feet behind you, keeping a careful watch as your arm was draped at Rumlow’s waist, his carrying over your shoulders. You were laughing at something he said, leaning into his side, and Bucky could tell even from the cadence of your voice that it was forced. Rumlow didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Tell me what we’re seeing tonight?” you asked, doughy eyed.

You were right when you’d told Bucky how well you knew your husband. Rumlow liked it when you played it dumb, when he could talk down to you. He seemed to disregard your intelligence entirely. It made him feel strong, to have this influence over you, to guide you blindly into the heart of a raging fire where he’d lend you to the flames in favor of his own skin.

“Our final shipment of Cerberus is arriving at dock 41,” Rumlow explained, pointing down to a hangar at the end of the pier. “We’ve got millions worth of product in that ship, baby. Millions more back at our storage site, too. And that’s before this shit hits market.”

“You ever try it?” you asked and Bucky raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “A king doesn’t eat the food he feeds to the peasants.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, thankful for the cast of midnight. You nodded at your husband, though Bucky could tell from the way you stared up at him that you were holding back your tongue. He chuckled to himself, laughing at his own wit like a self-righteous, conceited, piece of –

“Sir!” a voice called from the front of the ship, a little panicked. He pulled off his ball cap, held it tight in front of his chest, squeezing at it nervously. “We—uh, we weren’t expecting you.”

“Wasn’t aware I had to ring ahead before I showed my wife around my own fuckin’ ship,” Rumlow growled, shoving the man aside as he boarded the ship. You followed closely behind, stealing a quick glance at Bucky and then out to the empty docks before you turned your back to him and returned to Rumlow’s side.

Bucky took a steady breath, the weight of his gun heavy at his hip and he peered back into the darkness. His team was out there somewhere. Steve, Nat, Sam, and a dozen other tact team agents ready to storm the ship the second Rumlow incriminates himself. It was already bugged. Nat was already listening in from her perch within its radius. They’d know when the time was right.

Until then, Bucky would wait.

Stepping over the slight gap between the ship and the boardwalk, the gentle waves of the Atlantic sweeping in below, Bucky followed. He passed by several of the crewmen he’d spent months overseeing; some of whom grunted as he walked by, others gave him a curt, short smile.

He spotted Lenny attending to the ropes to keep the ship at bay; the kind, middle aged man who had no business being sucked into Hydra’s schemes, hunched over in a position that was sure to hurt his back. He paused, clutching at his chest with a grimace on his face, before he continued.

Bucky let out a heavy breath, taking a quick glance back at you and Rumlow to confirm your whereabouts before he jogged over to Lenny.

“Mr. Karpov!” Lenny greeted sincerely, a smile lifting up his rosy cheeks. Dirt lined his forehead from where he would wipe his head from sweat. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you down here, sir.”

Lenny was a good man. A hardworking father who got wrapped up in something far beyond his reach and Bucky had no interest in including him on the roster for the evening’s events.

“Lenny, I think it’s time you go home.”

Lenny narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, sir. I’ve still got some work to do and I don’t think Mr. Sitwell will be happy if I—”

“You do not want to be here tonight,” Bucky repeated, carefully eyeing the crewmen as they continued about their work. Jasper Sitwell stood a careful distance from the edge of the dock, observing from his position in a crisp, blue suit. Bucky turned back to Lenny, who seemed impossibly confused. “Be with your family. Tell them you were at the bar.”

“Oh, sir, they know what I—”

“Go home, Lenny,” Bucky warned again, retreating back into the ship, because he’d already spent too much time leaving you on your own. Lenny glanced nervously back at Sitwell before he nodded, slowly putting the ropes to the dock. Bucky waited for Lenny to start heading to the parking lot before he finally turned and ducked below deck.

“Look around you, baby,” Rumlow’s muffled voice echoed down the hall. “These are our riches.”

Bucky picked up his pace, jogging just slightly until he made his way into the cargo hold. You were pacing along the dozens of crates, sliding a finger curiously along the edges as you turned back to Rumlow with a smile on your face. You were wrapped in a tight black dress and heels barely the width of a penny, leaving you to wobble just slightly on a step, but you’d hid it well. It didn’t stop the crewmen from staring at you, anyway. You looked like the woman Bucky first met in Rumlow’s office; sparkling,, vibrant red dress and a hollowness behind your eyes.

“These are all yours?” you asked, a bewilderment in your voice. “Can I see it?”

Damn, you were good. Get Rumlow to open the crates him and that it was him who claimed ownership. Bucky had to stop the smile from curving at his lips.

Rumlow nodded, gesturing his hand out and waiting for one of his lackies to put a crowbar in his grip. He opened the crate with ease, and sure enough, it was lined to the brim with red bricks covered in plastic wrap, tied together by rubber bands. Cerberus.

That’s my girl.

“Just a line of this stuff will have the four times the potency of cocaine,” Rumlow gloated. “It could knock a body builder on his ass and have him daydreaming of fuckin’ unicorns in seconds.”

“Wow, that’s incredible,” you sighed, looking curiously to the brick as Rumlow held it up to the dim lighting. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky before you continued to ask, “so what happens now?”

Getting him to confess to distribution, too. You were a Godsend. Bucky wondered how wide Natasha was grinning from behind headphones and her computer screen a few hundred feet away, listening and in recording this very conversation.

“Now, we split it up amongst our suppliers,” Rumlow explained without missing a beat. “They bring it to the streets, and we watch the cash roll in.”

What a fucking idiot.

Rumlow continued to show you around the cargo hold, and then to the elaborate office at the back of the room. He poured himself a drink, though he didn’t bother to offer you one. In the moment he was distracted, you shot a glance back at Bucky, wide eyed and raise of your eyebrow.

Bucky checked his watch, figuring Steve and the team must be coming in soon. Rumlow was on the ship. You’d gotten more than enough from his confessions. What was taking them so long?

“Are we keeping you from something, Karpov?”

Bucky dropped his hand back to his side, letting his sleeve slip back over his watch. “No, sir.”

Rumlow rolled his eyes, returning to his scotch as he downed the entirety of it in one gulp. He turned to you, grabbed you rather harshly by the hips and pulled you tight to his chest. It left you unsteady on your feet, leaving you to grab to his collar for support.

“Now,” Rumlow purred, dark and low, “why don’t we celebrate, just the two of us?”

You laughed, though it was tight, tense, as you stared to pry Rumlow’s hands from you. “Not here, Brock.”

“Yes, here,” he urged, pushing you up against his desk, his hands riding along the skin of your thighs, shifting under fabric and digging into your curves. You gasped as he wiped the contents of the desk to the ground, shoving himself between your legs. “Karpov, leave us.”

But Bucky couldn’t move. He was a statue. He was frozen solid but there was fire in his veins, stones in his chest, vengeance itching at the surface, but he held it down by the bile in his throat. Bucky cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from your hands as you clung to the bottom of your dress, holding it firm at the mid of your thighs, though it didn’t seem to stop Rumlow’s fingers from slipping under.

“Sir,” Bucky called as Rumlow’s shoulders stiffened at the intrusion, “I think that we should—”

“What?! What the fuck do you ‘think’!?” Rumlow threw back in a heated growl, bounding towards Bucky across the room. He pushed his finger at Bucky’s chest and it was a relief just to get him away from you. Bucky watched over Rumlow’s shoulder as you slid off the desk, pushed down the edge of your dress, and nodded at him. Shaken, but alright.

“How about you make yourself useful and keep this level unoccupied for the next ten minutes?” Rumlow snapped, shoving Bucky hard in the chest. He turned back to you, like he was stalking prey and your wide eyes met Bucky’s.

He found his hand nestling on the cold metal of the gun draped under his coat as he watched Rumlow take each step towards you. Safety clicking off. Pulled from the holster around his waist. Aiming in Rumlow’s direction, and then –

Darkness.

The lights gave out across the ship, a deep unsettling blackness coating the room as Rumlow started shouting at his men, barking orders over the sound of crates falling on this side and grunts coming from the injured lackies.

Bucky couldn’t see a goddamn thing. He couldn’t see his own hand in front of him and when he tried to look in the direct he’d last seen you, he was only met with darkness. He didn’t even know what way he was facing. Your name was on his tongue, though he bit it back.

“FBI! Lower your weapons!”

Steve.

“Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

Sam.

Rumlow let out a guttural roar and suddenly there was gunfire. The brief shots illuminating a flicker to the room for only a second; short bursts of light capturing the flood of agents emerging down the stairway and creeping through the cargo room, diving behind crates of Cerberus, and light red powder misting up into the air with every misfire.

The generator kicked on with a low groan and dim crimson lighting cast over the cargo hold. Bucky blinked a few times, trying to adjust from the sheer darkness as he quickly scanned the room in search of you. The relief was instant as he found you peer out from behind the desk, having taken refuge there amongst the gunfire.

Bucky nodded at you, a hand gesturing to the ground; stay down, hold tight. It wouldn’t be much longer. Steve and Sam were at the forefront of the agents ascending to the lower level of the ship, night vision goggles removed as they fired back at the men who had yet to drop their weapons. The echo of the shots was deafening in the enclosed space.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Rumlow shouted over the chaos, shoving you towards the back of the office. There was nowhere for him to go, so Bucky turned back to the agents. It would only be a minute. Just one more minute and then Bucky would have you safe in his arms again.

One minute.

Bucky held his position, gun in hand aimed at his own team to keep up appearances. He was supposed to be arrested along with Rumlow. That was the plan. It was how he would preserve his identity after this all went down. James Karpov would have an unfortunate accident on the way to his lock up and Bucky Barnes could be free again. The death of another cover and the end of another assignment.

Agents rushed at him, shoving him to the ground, knees to his shoulders and as they yanked his hands behind his back. They were shouting at him, ordering him to ‘get down’ and ‘shut the hell up,’ because he had to put up some kind of fight to make it believable.

It’ll be over soon, Bucky told himself. It would be over and he would come find you. They’d throw Rumlow to the back of an armored van, hull him off to the county jail for holding, and Bucky would take you back to his apartment, wash the grim of your husband from your skin, keep you tight in his arms, remind you that no one will ever hurt you again. Then, he’d tell you his name.

When this was over.

Just a minute more.

But as he peered up to the back of the office, a wash of cold rushed over him, like ice straight to his chest and through his bloodstream.

It was empty.

“No,” Bucky gasped, tugging on the restraints behind him, desperately trying to shake off the agent holding him down. “No! Y/n! Y/n!”

“Hey! Hey, you need to stop,” Sam’s whispered harshly to his ear, hot to the touch and it burned him. He held Bucky still, pushing down to his shoulder blades as he stole a glance back at the Hydra henchmen being restrained one room over. “You’re going to blow your cover in the home stretch, you fuckin’ idiot! Cool it.”

“She’s gone,” Bucky panted, heart rate skyrocketing, threatening to leap straight into his throat to choke him right there. Bucky nodded to the back of the room, where you and Rumlow were supposed to be cornered. “They’re gone, Sam. I lost her. They’re—They’re gone.”

Sam lifted his knee from Bucky’s back, released his hands, and Bucky scrambled up to his feet, sprinting to the back end of the room. There were no doors, no exits, and somehow, you and Rumlow had both disappeared, managed to slip out unnoticed in the chaos.

Bucky ran his hand along the paneling, checking for trap doors, and he turned over his shoulder to find Sam quickly closing the door to the office, shielding him from the room of Hydra crewmen being arrested beyond the door. Bucky didn’t have time to care whether he’d been spotted, not with the ringing in his ears, the tightness in his chest.

“What do you mean ‘they’re gone’? They were right here. I saw them,” Sam argued through harsh whispers.

“There must be a trap door, a hidden latch, something,” Bucky mumbled to himself, ignoring his partner as he brushed right past him, running his hands over every panel he could find, pulling out books and trinkets from the shelves.

“Nat? You got eyes on Rumlow and Y/n?” Sam said, glancing up at the surveillance cam ahead. A moment passed before Sam, sighed and said, “Nat hasn’t seen them. They might still be on the ship. We’ll alert the team, Buck. You need to get back in position before someone sees you.”

It was like white noise; a blur of words and syllables strung together, until his hand slipped over a crack in the wall where the chill of a slight breeze touched his skin and he froze. Sam narrowed his eyes beside him as he readied his weapon.

Bucky pressed on the panel and with a single click, it unlatched, propped open and revealed a long, winding passage way through the bowels of the ship.

“Shit.”

“You need to stand down,” Sam warned, a hand to Bucky’s shoulder as he tried to stop him from rushing inside. “Let us handle this. It’s a miracle none of Rumlow’s crew have noticed you’re not in cuffs like the rest of them. With Rumlow still out there, you can’t afford to be made, Buck. He’s got resources and connections everywhere. Word gets back to him that you’re one of us and he’ll have you killed, man. Let us do our jobs. We’ll find her. I promise.”

Bucky tried to listen – honest, he did – but all he could focus on was the panic in your eyes, the fear so carefully hidden behind layers of confidence and determination, the unending trust you held for him as he let you slip through his grasp and into the hands of a monster.

Bucky took a deep breath, his hands planted firmly on either side of the door before he turned to Sam. “I’m sorry, brother.”

He jabbed hard at Sam’s wrist, forcing a release of his grip on his weapon as it fell into Bucky’s hand. Sam stared at him with wide eyes as Bucky kicked him square in the chest; not enough to cause injury but enough to knock the wind out of him for the few moments he’d need to escape.

He didn’t turn back as he heard Sam fall to the ground and he pushed his way through the tunnel, through the bare bones of the ship of metal archways and exposed wires. Hunched down under the low hanging ceilings, cobwebs stringing into his hair, until he was met with the crisp night air and the wash of salt water in the breeze.

It was almost as dark outside as it was in the ship and Bucky squinted his eyes, hoping to find a glimpse of you somewhere down the pier.

Gun in hand, he carefully made his way to the end of the ship, stepping back onto the boardwalk. Solid ground under his feet, he pressed forward; tunneled vision and heart hammering in his chest.

Then, a heavy blow to the back of his head. A Pulsing through his body like electricity, gun slipping from his hands and falling to the pavement in deafening sound. Knees buckled out from under him as a numbness swept over his body. Swaying. Losing balance as a blur of a red emblem came to view; a skull, six tentacles.

He lost consciousness before he hit the ground.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

762 notes · View notes

missjaystone · 3 years

Text

What’s up, Doc?

This is my submission for darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘Watching-Stalker AU Challenge’ (And yes, after asking initially from an entirely new account before posting on a secondary blog, I’m too embarrassed to tag Roo again.)

Prompt 11: Everyone knows about celebrity stalkers, but what happens when a celebrity is the stalker? Kinks: Forced Pregnancy/Breeding, A/B/O

Word Count: 3000

Relationship: Dark!Steve x Fem!Reader x Dark!Bucky Trigger Warnings: nonconsensual/dubious consent, forced pregnancy/breeding, A/B/O dynamics, abuse of power(?). PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE OFFEND YOU (PS Everyone: I’m sorry to redirect everyone to another blog but I’m too nervous about having 'missjaywrites’ as only a secondary blog. The first blog post on miss_jay_stone with stay but that blog is officially abandoned. Henceforth everything will be posted here.)

Being a doctor meant stressful moments, being a military doctor meant stressful days, weeks, months, or years. However, being a doctor specifically for the Avengers was an entirely new level of pressure. Being the person to patch up or perform surgery on literal superheroes made you miss working in the middle of warzones. You knew one wrong move could quickly spiral into a major issue, but you knew this when you took the job.

The choice itself wasn’t easy, there were more than enough reasons for you to respectfully decline, reasons like; despite being as accomplished as you were, you were still fairly young, the pressure was enough to age someone half a century, there were about a dozen security measures in place to make sure you said nothing to anyone, numerous contracts and NDAs to sign, and possibly the biggest reason to say ‘no’ was what you really were. An omega. You could very well be arrested because of how many official government forms you’d falsified and signed stating you were a Beta. You did what you had to do to accomplish your goals and it landed you in the medbay of the Avengers compound, often in close contact with the numerous Alphas on the team.

In your opinion, you were pretty physically average and never thought of yourself as someone that turned heads. That was more than fine by you, the less attention you had on you the better. Recently, though, you felt something subtle change, you always felt like somebody was looking at you, even if nobody else was around. The constant feeling and incessant nagging in the back of your mind sent a chill up your spine daily. There were some days where you found yourself feeling something like an internal tug towards whatever alpha was close by and now more often than not, the closest alpha was one of the two blue-eyes super soldiers. If you had listened to the alarm bells in your head, you would have left your job the moment you felt something strange.

You would’ve moved to Calgary or Portland or Dallas, but you brushed it off as silliness and an overactive imagination. And because of that, here you were, stuck in a web of your own design, your protruding stomach a reminder of the mistakes that led to this situation. Of course, you’d love them when they arrived but that wouldn’t lessen the naivete you felt for falling into their game. Their words forever holding your heart and soul firmly in a vice grip. “C’mon, doll, you can be our good little ‘mega and get everything you could ever want” “We can keep your secrets safe, we’ll make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you.” The words seem to play on repeat in your mind. You can pinpoint the exact moment a small mistake led to where you were now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 8 Months Prior~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, where are you going all dolled up like that?” Your colleague and friend Alex asked as you stepped out of the storage room with a bundle of clothes in your hand. He paused typing his report to watch you gather your things. “I’m going to a 50s themed party with a guy I’ve been seeing and he’ll be here to get me soon,” you answered, motioning to the very-50s inspired outfit you wore. “Lucky you, kid, knock him dead but use protection,” he called with a chuckle as you left towards the elevator. You rolled your eyes at his comment but got a chuckle out of it yourself. He loved acting like he had 25 years on you instead of 10. The entire elevator ride down you were checking to make sure everything was perfect and not a hair was out of place.

You didn’t even look up when you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. You did however look up, when you collided with a firm body. Your apologies were stopped by two things; the feel of cold metal on your back thru the thin fabric of your top and the strong scent, familiar scent of cedar & sandalwood and sage & pine. “I’m so sorry about that Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes; that was totally my fault for not looking and I’m incredibly sorry to have almost steamrolled you,” you rambled awkwardly as you hurriedly tried to step back and put space between you and them. It took several long moments before Bucky removed his hand from your back, putting both in his pockets.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” Steve said with a smile that just didn’t seem quite right. There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds where you felt their eyes raking over you and you would’ve sworn their pupils dilated. “You know, it’s funny, you look like you’re straight out of a magazine from the 40s,” Steve said with a chuckle to break the silence. “Thank you, sir, I have a date at a themed party and this is the theme,” you sheepishly replied. The blond cleared his throat to cover what almost sounded like a growl at the name ‘sir’ and his features momentarily hardened when you mentioned it was a date. His smile was quick to return “well we don’t want to hold you up, enjoy your weekend, Doc and we’ll see you around.” You politely thanked him and returned the pleasantry before stepping passed them to leave. If only you had looked back, you would’ve seen them begin an intense, hushed conversation before they disappeared into the elevator.

That little conversation seemed to be when all of this started, but it was only little things that never drew much thought. At least, it started small; things on your desk would be moved, lights would be left on when you showed up the next day, your door would be unlocked, just little things that you couldn’t definitively say you did or didn’t do and the feeling of surveillance being minute and random. Then it got bigger; clothes you’d left at the office would disappear like jackets you kept in case you got cold or a spare change of clothes if what you wore got messed up, and papers you were sure you’d put away would be scattered on your desk but the feeling of being watched was more often, and one or both of them often came around for seemingly any reason. Like when Sam came in to get stitches after a mission, Bucky stood to the side almost brooding when you only mildly acknowledged him to tend to his friend.

Then alarms started to go off in your head but you ignored it. They were celebrities, they were superheroes. There’s no way on Earth they’d give you more than a second though. Your internal alarms kept going off; you never felt alone anymore, even in your own home. Your cozy little home that you’d fallen in love with always felt like somebody else was there or had been there. You often felt like your skin was burning, especially when they were around which was now multiple times a day, you always seemed to run into them. Bucky was normally quiet when you crossed paths, always asking if you felt okay and commenting on your flushed and flustered appearance, taking two steps forward for every step you took away from him. Steve seemed to be more physical whenever you two met around the building, he’d pull you into a friendly hug before you could object and make conversation with you, often brushing hands with you or setting his hand on the small of your back.

It went on like that for two months and you’d never been more thankful for fall to turn to winter, the cold breeze helping to sate your increasingly uncomfortable temperature. You thought everything had passed when you started to feel more normal and they stopped coming around you as often.

One night you decided to stay late to get some reports finished, submitted, and filed properly. It was perfectly fine for a while but then you felt yourself heating up again. Even after removing your scrubs and changing into some clothes you stored here, you were still burning. Soon you were fidgeting in your seat, trying to find some way to quell whatever what happening with you. You ended up nearly running to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and get something to drink but you should have just gone home.

When you took two steps back into your lab, you were immediately pulling back against someone’s broad chest with superhuman strength. On instant contact, a familiar and unnerving scent surrounded you; cedar and sandalwood. It was Bucky hold your back flush against his chest. Panic set in seconds later when you felt him pressed into your lower back, the size alone was enough to take you out of your paralyzingly-afraid state. But it wasn’t like that helped any; you were an average human and he was a Super Soldier, it took no effort to keep you in his grasp. All he had to do to keep you in line was move one hand around your throat and growl quietly in your ear.

“Easy, doll, if you move too much he may have to hurt you and that's the last thing we want,” a calm voice said, the tone almost soothing. Steve stepped into sight from where he’d been looking at some things on your shelf. “I know you’re probably a little confused but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Keeping creeps away at bars, making sure your train ride home goes without incident, taking care of the men you go on dates with. You’ve quite the active social life doll,” his voice was tender as he approached you, gently stroking your cheek. By now your eyes were wide with bewilderment as your brain attempted to process this situation. “We want you to be our good little Omega, start a family with you, and give you everything you could ever want or need,” Steve continued when your attempt to speak came out in a whimper.

Just as you went to correct him, Steve stopped you, cupping your cheek “please don’t lie to me, doll, we can’t create a future built on lies. We always thought you were a cute little Beta but after running into you that day, we both got a nice strong whiff of your cleverly hidden Omega scent, made us both incredibly hard, especially in that outfit that looked like it was from our time. That little incident made us see you for what you are; a good little ‘mega perfectly tailored for us, made to be our girl and have our pups. Unfortunately, we had to wait sometime to wean you off of those nasty chemical suppressants but now that you’re on the verge of your first heat, your body is more ready than it ever will be to take us,” Steve explained in that eerily calm voice, the intimacy of the town and him gently stroking your cheek was easily beginning to jumble your mind as it told you to do what you’d been fighting for years, what you hoped to always avoid.

“Steve,” Bucky grumbled, finally speaking up when his friend paused, he’d started steadily grinding his hips against yours for friction. “I-I can’t, I d-don’t want this,” you stammered out, nearly biting your lip off to keep yourself from whimpering or moaning as you felt Bucky’s hard-on against you, so close to where you needed but didn’t want it to be. “Well, that’s why we’re giving you a choice, princess. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you and if you’re our girl we can make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’ll be the safest person on the planet. Alternatively, people will find out about your status and well, perjury, falsifying federal documents, and falsifying medical documents are serious. You’d lose your medical license permanently and it’ll be at least a decade in prison but that’s not what we want,” Steve reassured before planting a small but quick kiss on your lips and smiling.

“C'mon doll, you can be our good little 'mega and never have to do anything ever again, you’ll never have to worry about money, job security, gross bar creeps, medical issues. We just wanna take care of our girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his tone too gentle for the situation. When you began to object again, a strong cramp in your abdomen had you nearly double over with a pained moan. You’d have been on the floor if Bucky wasn’t holding you and Steve wasn’t in front of you. “We can make all of this pain go away right now, just say you’ll be our best girl,” Steve coerced as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. You knew you couldn’t open your mouth without moaning in pain or screaming so you furiously shook your head. Steve continuing to stroke your cheek, though small, was enough to distract you from noticing Bucky untying and pushing your shorts down.

As much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned out in surprise when you felt Bucky’s cool metal fingers rubbing your clit slowly. The man let out a groan and pulled his hand back, smirking as it glistened in the dimmed lights of the lab “fuck, Stevie, she’s so wet for us.” The words renewed your sense of panic and you began struggling hard. That seemed to be all it took for Steve to let go of his restraint. He lunged forward and captured your lips in a harsh, hungry, and dominating kiss. The blond wasted no time ripping your shirt and bra away, sending buttons flying to the floor. He didn’t break away from the bruising kiss as he began to fondle your breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples. In your state of unwanted pleasure, you didn’t notice Bucky quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his aching member.

An entirely new sense of panic filled you when you felt his head nudging at your entrance; you would not make it through this in one piece, they were going to split you in half. When Steve’s lips finally left yours, he haphazardly pulled his member out and pulled you down until your face was level with his cock. When you didn’t do anything, he seemed to signal to Bucky who then buried himself into the hilt and moaned out happily, his breathing hitching as he mumbled “fuck, so tight, feels s'good.” Just as anticipated, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pain and forced ecstasy, he gladly took the opportunity to thrust into your mouth, making you gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

It took them no time at all to set a bruising rhythm, their moans and groans combined with your muffled cries of pleasure and fear filled the moan. You hated the way you felt your body betray you, how your core ached from Bucky to go faster, how your mind was quickly falling into the role of a submissive little Omega that you’d avoided all your life. Pretty soon you were beginning to move with them, the logical part of your brain being overshadowed by the need to please the two Alphas violating you.

“That’s it doll, that’s our good little Omega, such a good girl cooperating with her Alphas,” Steve cooed soft praises as he proudly watched the last of your resolve vanish. He took one of your hands and wrapped it around the part of his cock that wasn’t in your mouth, helping you build up a good stroking motion before letting go. He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged whenever he felt you run your tongue along the veins. Bucky on the other hand had a vice-like grip on your hips as his thrusts gradually became erratic. He reached underneath you and started rubbing your clit quickly, this time with his flesh hand. “C'mon doll, cum for your Alphas, you’re gonna feel so good being our Omega,” he muttered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Between his words and the way he rubbed your clit and Steve’s praises and encouragements, you didn’t stand a chance against doing what he asked. You came with a muffled scream as your searing orgasm raced through every one of your veins, leaving you in a seemingly endless state of white-hot euphoria. You could barely acknowledge the feeling of Bucky erupting inside of you, filling you with his seed. His thrusts slowly becoming more languid.

“C'mon, hurry up,” you heard Bucky say, even though it sounded muffled and far away to you. You admittedly whined at the loss of his member even though he still held you up. You coughed when Steve removed himself, finally taking in deep breaths of air. They switched places quickly, Steve emitting a groan as he entered you more gently than Bucky did. This time, you didn’t hesitate before taking Bucky’s cock into your mouth, just following the part of your brain that said to submit to them, that they alone could bring you this much pleasure and everything they promised. Steve gave a few thrusts before he pulled your hips flush against his and spilled himself with a content moan.

You all but collapsed to the floor when they were done, them being the only reason you didn’t. Bucky scooped you up bridal style after Steve wrapped his jacket around your used, naked form. You were only semi-conscious as they carried you out of the lab, barely awake enough to mumble out “where are we going?” “We’re going to our room, little 'mega, and we’re gonna keep doing this every night until we see you round with our pups and we’re gonna make sure you’re treated like a princess, our princess,” Steve said, using his soothing tone from earlier. Barely clinging to consciousness, you merely nodded. The last thing you remember before passing out into sweet, sweet dreamland was you saying “alphas know best.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down at your stomach before looking back at the sonogram in your hands; clear as day, you could see two 8-month-old babies. You’d stopped fighting when the pregnancy tests turned positive, they were very clear that no matter where you went, they’d find you and bring you home. They kept their promise about giving you everything you could ever need or want and protecting you. They kept their promise to keep you safe and always be there for you. You resigned from your position and didn’t renew your rental agreement, officially moving in with them in a bigger room. Once you safely passed the second trimester, they claimed you as theirs and let you claim them as yours. You’re not sure if you’ll ever forgive how this started but it wasn’t so bad.

#StalkerChallengeFic #Dark!Bucky Barnes #Dark!Steve Rogers #Alpha!Bucky Barnes #Alpha!SteveRogers #Dark!Stucky #TW: NonCon #TW: DubCon #TW: Breeding #Steve Rogers Smut #Bucky Barnes Smut #Marvel Smut #J Wrote

70 notes · View notes

nimmy22 · 3 years

Text

A Mistake: Chapter 12

~ The following day, Saturday ~

"Do something, Wesker! These fucking imbeciles at the papers are starting to question my competence as chief all because of a pathetic group of boys you can't seem to dispose of." Irons seethed, slamming his cup of whisky on the desk, knocking his nameplate to the ground.

Wesker gave nothing away of his emotions, save for a tick in his brow. His hands craved to wrap around Irons’ neck, giving it a swift snap. It's how he felt most of his days at the station. Irons was replaceable. The man didn't realize just how worthless he was to Umbrella. His replacement could arrive this very afternoon.

"We are working on finding the gang's nest. The big players keep using young boys for the jobs but tell them nothing about insider information. There are too many eyes watching us right now. We cannot use any special means to dispose of the group in order avoid questions."

"Just Do your fucking job right. I can't stand the news conferences anymore. the journalist's questions make me look laughable." Irons clutched his glass, throwing it hard against the wall. Tapping a finger on the armrest, Wesker didn't bat an eye at the behavior of the chief of police. One couldn't expect much from such a lowly creature.

"You seem to forget why Umbrella put me as captain of STARS. It isn't to keep up your public appearance but to protect theirs. I'm not the one who isn't doing his job. Deal with the journalists while I handle the little boy scouts." pushing back his chair, Wesker made sure to leave deep grooves on the freshly varnished floors. The scraping sound was like music to his soul. He didn't miss the deathly glare on his way to the door like hot iron rods.

Returning to the STARS office, Wesker ignored the gossiping of Chris and Jill about the newest trouble between their captain and Irons. Shutting the door to his office, he took a seat behind his desk. Through the office blinds, he eyed each present member of STARS. of course, no one was getting any work done, lazing around the office, making meaningless bets.

This simply will not do.

It was time they did some undercover work, gathering information about Raccoon city's newest crime family. These boy scouts wouldn't last long around here, especially since they fell on the radar of the real monsters in the shadows of Raccoon.

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

She sat alone on the staircase, elbows resting on her knees, wondering how the hell she got here. The house was familiar to her. How many times has she looked after Sherry here? Still, it felt strange. It was his space, and she was invading it.

This was now supposed to be her home. The place gave no hints as to who lived here, lacking any personal touch. It was likely the work of an anterior designer following the most fashionable trends. The home of a bachelor.

Speaking of Wesker, he left after dumping her here last night and vaguely pointing her towards the guest room with a 'help yourself' to any food. As always, he gave her the bare minimum of info, not that she asked what he was up to. She didn't care whether he spent the night hiding bodies or doing legitimate police work. She was too terrified to sleep under the same roof, only a few walls apart. Does the man ever sleep? Shower? Eat?

She won't lie. She was glad Wesker left. But even with him gone, she couldn't stop thinking about what happened. More so the kiss than almost becoming a guinea pig. It was a lot to process, and she couldn't even begin.

For the nth time, she forcibly pulled her fingers away from her lips, scolding herself for replaying the memory again. This man was absolute bad news. She needed to get out of the house, and an incoming call from Claire had her scrambling to answer as quickly as possible. Her friend presented an idea, and Cara was all too grateful to join in.

Pulling up Wesker's name in the contacts, Cara's fingers hovered over the letters, unsure of what and how much to tell him. Where did they stand? Did he really mean everything, or was it a trick? Was she free to leave? Did he give up completely on the idea of killing her?

"Going out with Claire. I will be back late." she texted, fully knowing a lot of info was missing. But it's not like he ever gave her a ton.

"Stay out of trouble.' came a replay moments later.

The words were unsaid, but Cara definitely heard them. 'I don't have time to drop everything and run over to the rescue each and every time you get in trouble,'

'I asked for help only once. The other time's nobody asked you to come.' Cara grumbled but deleted what she wrote. she could've gotten herself out of those situations...with a little bit of thinking. Actually, a lot of thinking.

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

Cara had to walk several blocks away from Wesker's house to prevent suspicion. If by any chance, Claire knew the address of her brother's captain, it would be a hole she did not want to leap into.

Standing in front of an old bookstore, she waited for her friend. The building was slightly rundown, its walls covered in graffiti, but the owners were a kind elderly couple. They pushed discounts her way, and she was guilted to buy something. She ended up buying a useless cat plushie toy after seeing that most books were non-fiction or raunchy romance novels. She would rather die than have Wesker coming across an erotic novel lying around his house.

She stared at the plushie as she leaned against the wall outside the shop. Cara considered giving it to Sherry the next time they met. This would be the first present she ever gave the young girl, and she could almost imagine the excitement on Sherry's face. It made her smile.

A helicopter passed overhead, sleek black and adorned with the Umbrella white and red symbol. Cara watched the chopper get smaller and smaller until it disappeared, heading in the direction of the Arkley mountains. she wondered about their business up there was. Looking around, no one else seemed to notice nor care. Maybe it was best to keep all knowledge to herself.

Seeing a familiar redhead and a motorcycle, Cara waved as Claire pulled up, handing her a helmet.

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

The barn smelled of sweat, dust, and old wood. The unmistakable smell of alcohol was thick in the air as it was passed around freely in cheap red plastic cups. She recognized kids from school, but many more were older, likely from Raccoon university. A light disco machine was nailed to the wall, casting the barn in a series of flashing lights. Tall Straw piles of hay distributed across the barn ensured there was no shortage of dark corners for people to disappear to. For a moment, Cara considered hiding in the straw and then going home when the party was over. But seeing the sparkle in Claire's eyes about hanging out with her best friend threw the idea out the window. With a sigh, she followed her friend.

Over the course of the night, the girls danced and drank, carefree. A blond-haired boy was staring at her, Cara noticed. He attempted to walk up to her but turned around before getting within ten feet. He tried multiple times but always chickened out despite his friends constantly cheering him on. Claire thought it was cute and refused to stop openly staring at him and giving a thumbs up. Cara swatted Claire's hands before holding them behind her back in a pretend arrest, pushing her against the straw pile.

"Sorry Officer! I was just trying to help you get laid," Claire giggled. "I hope you're into blonde's though,"

"This is so embarrassing. Stop, or I'm leaving," Cara snapped, feeling a blush heat her face as Wesker crossed her mind. Fuck, why now?

"Oh? so you are into blondes," Claire's smile was cunning. "Let me help you,"

"No. Bad Claire, bad, bad girl. No treats for you tonight." Cara scolded, Stealing the can of beer her friend stole from a guy before cracking it open and downing its contents. She wouldn't yet consider herself drunk, just pleasantly buzzed.

The boy ran off again. Cara felt bad for him and was actually tempted to go up to him instead. His friends kept a steady stream of alcohol into his hand.

"H-hey, " And then he did it, with the help of liquid courage, of course.

For the effort, Cara decided not to openly embarrass him with rejection but not lead him on either. Walking away backward, Claire gave her a thumbs up along with a suggestive motion of the eyebrows, making horrid shapes with her hands. Cara covered her face, hoping to purge the image out of memory. She'll get her back in no time.

Ben was a bit shy at first, but soon they got talking and enjoyed themselves. His hair was a few shades darker and shorter than Wesker's. She didn't have to look up at him as they stood at a similar, comfortable height. Slender and skinny, he would shrink to nothing beside the captain. Cara grimaced, realizing she had been comparing the poor guy to a demon. It wasn't his fault that her mind was occupied with someone way out of her league... the legal kind.

The barn was becoming more and more crowded, and the dancing crowd swallowed them. Sticking out like two sore thumbs, they did their best to dance. Cara felt awkward but seeing the dimples in his smile made her feel better even as it became a tighter fit among the crowd. They had to dance closer lest they got separated.

She wondered what it would feel like to dance with Wesker. He seemed like the sophisticated type. The awkward moves of a teenager would never be adequate for him. Did he ever do anything that was remotely recreational? What do villains even do in their spare time? Manipulating the feelings of underage girls looks like. What stupid, stupid thoughts.

She prayed all these ideas would go away soon, as the thrill of the kiss wore off, and everything went back to normal. Did she want to go back? Why in the world would he like her? she knew who he really was, and he still let her live. Why take the risk with her? she was just a seventeen-year-old. Useless to everyone, with no connections and no money.

Fuck it. Cara refused to think about Wesker anymore tonight. There was a perfectly alright guy in front of her, someone her own age, someone in her league, someone she wouldn't have to hide. Someone who was looking at her with a soft expression, blinking slowly.

Cara placed her hands on either side of Ben's face and pulled him towards her, connecting their lips. He reacted instantly, kissing her back. His hands awkwardly hovered over her arms before stroking them softly.

He was a nice guy, not a terrible kisser, but she hated it. Hated every touch because it wasn't as good as with Wesker. She couldn't stop comparing, and it was frustrating, spurring her to kiss Ben harder.

She continued, out of spite, to kiss the boy who looked at her with affection. in the background, she heard a few boys cheering, likely his friends. This was wrong, very wrong.

A firm hand gave her waist a painful squeeze before it was gone, and she thought it was Ben. Her eyes flew open as she felt a warm breath by her ear. It wasn't Ben.

"If I was not undercover right now, this lesser specimen of a boy would've made some unforgettable acquaintances a lot sooner. You could've done so much better, yet you have chosen to this..." Wesker seethed by her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her body froze, but Ben didn't pick up the cue. Wesker's muscles were tense as he pressed against her back. She could almost hear the exhale through clenched, grinding teeth.

Then he was gone, slipping through the crowd just as he came. No one notices anything. Cara broke the kiss and shoved Ben away. "I'm sorry, it isn't going to work out." She hurried after Wesker, but he was already lost in the crowd.

She shoved her way through the throngs of people but only managed to find other members of STARS in civilian clothes. None seemed to notice or recognize her. They must've been here on undercover work, but why? she put that question aside as there were more pressing things to worry about.

She felt sick and wanted to throw up, but nothing was coming up. she burst through the doors of the suffocatingly hot bran, raking her hands through her hair. The cool night air hit her heated skin, but she couldn't find relief. She wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

She needed to find Wesker. But then what? Apologize? Apologize for making her own choices? They weren't a couple.

She continued to look for him nevertheless. She walked further from the barn towards an old car junkyard. She thought perhaps a fuming man would need some privacy. A strong feeling in her gut told her this was the right way.

Cara walked far enough from the party that the music was nothing but a distant noise. It was dark and quiet, the perfect place for an assault. If Wesker decided to murder her, no one would find her for at least a week, stuffed in the trunk of a car. If ever.

Grabbed from behind, she was thrown against a car. Sliding to the ground, she cradled her aching arm, squinting in the dark to see her assailant. Wesker kneeled beside her, his civilian clothes dark and expensive.

"Why cut it short? You should've kissed him more while you still can because he will be the last boy you will ever kiss." squeezing her cheeks harshly, he dragged his thumb with heavy pressure over the flesh of her lips, still swollen from kissing Ben.

As Wesker let go of her face, she felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple. Her heart skipped a beat, but she glared at him straight in the eye. Daring.

"I don't know what you want from me! You told me to keep out of trouble, and I did. Yet here we are," Cara lied. She knew what he wanted but didn't know why he wanted it.

"Were my intentions not clear enough? Do I have to spell it out for you? But I suppose intelligence was never your strength,"

Wesker pressed the gun harder against her temple, her glare unwavering. "Go ahead. Shoot me. why do you even bother?"

Neither moved, naked eyes locked with no shades between. Cara reached up and pulled the gun out of his hands with ease. He didn't resist, glaring at her with a tense jaw. Looking down, she almost laughed, seeing the safety was still on. This man couldn't bring himself to kill her. It was all a show of intimidation, and she wasn't falling for it. Not anymore.

As she made to stand, his hand pushed her down. Thinking he wanted the gun back, she returned it to his hand and tried to stand. again, he pushed her down. "Can I get up now?" she scowled, staring up at him.

Things happen too quickly for her to process. The hands on Cara's shoulder grabbed her legs, lifting her off the ground as Wesker wrapped her legs around him before slamming her against the car. She was winded, gasping for breath as he watched her with a smirk. She grabbed his arms, digging her nails into his defined muscles.

"You're up now," he whispered before his lips kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth immediately.

Grabbing both her hands, he pinned them against the car. "I need to clean your mouth of all traces of that boy,"

"Are you going to rinse my mouth with soap or something? This is childish and-" Cara's words settled in a moan as Wesker began grinding a very defined length against her growing sickness. She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

Trailing his nose across her skin, he followed the curve of her neck to the ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. She melted against him when his hot tongue entered her ear. His tongue plunged in and out repeatedly like a preview of what he could do to her. Her heart went on an overdrive.

"Just kiss me," Cara breathed, a tension building in her belly. She wanted to taste him. in addition to sparing any additional marks on her neck to hide.

"No,” nuzzling into her neck, he grinded harder against her, earning a series of moans.

"You know who else wouldn't mind kissing me-" Wesker slammed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly, their teeth clashing. Cara melted further, a smile on her lips as her tongue danced with his. She savored everything, The taste of him, softness of his lips, his warmth, and the building friction between their bodies. There was nothing more she wanted.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three gunshots were fired.

Cara was barely steady on her feet when Wesker dropped her to the ground, his eyes scanning their surroundings. What little they heard of the music was drowned out by distant screams of the partygoers.

"What's happening?" she questioned, grabbing his arm, but his attention was fixed on the barn.

"Stay here," Wesker warned, already talking to someone by an earpiece she hadn't noticed before.

With his gun ready, he took off, running towards the barn. Cara made to follow him but was pulled back towards the car by her hand.

The fucker handcuffed and left her in the middle of a junkyard in the dark.

#resident evil #claire redfield #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #oc

9 notes · View notes

focsle · 3 years

Text

Vendryth Bio

HELLO here I am with one of my Gigantic Character Bios.

Basics

Name: Vendryth

Nickname: Ven to friends. He also has a number of tacky nicknames in the various small localities he helped out over the years: The Golden Traveler, The Dragon, Trollslayer, Midwinter Hero, ET CETERA ET CETERA. To Neris he is ‘Grandpa’.

Age: Died at age 326. Born 1E 2594, died in 1E 2920. Is Neris’s resident ghost as of 2E 582.

Gender: Man

Race: Dunmer

Class: Battlemage and restoration master

Physical Traits

Height: 6ft

Weight: 210 lbs

Hair: Auburn, pulled back in a long braid.

Eyes: Red

Skin: Dark blueish grey

Distinctive features: Full Van Dyke-style beard. A lot of assorted scars from 300+ years of Fighting Things. Really big gaudy dragon tattoo on his chest.

Mannerisms: He has a confident ease moving and existing in the world, and he definitely takes up space in a lounging sort of way. He also tends to relate to people physically—SHOULDER SLAPPER sort of guy.

Voice: Friendly and booming. Bit gravelly but refined.

Fashion: He likes ornate armors and likes to keep ‘em shiny. In the day to day however, he dresses very simply...keeps his shirt collar as open as possible...

Emotional Traits

Personality: He’s very personable and very willing to help people, to the degree that he is prone to butting into situations that initially don’t involve him. He almost never turns down requests for help and can quickly shift to adapt to situations that call for his attention. He tries to behave honorably, though he hasn’t always done so in his interpersonal relationships in the past and is awkward in coming to terms with that.

Likes a good time. Is boisterous and rollicking and sometimes has an air about him that he doesn’t take things seriously, even though as said above, he can rapidly switch gears to handle grave situations. He’s chummy with everyone. A bit flirtatious & slutty. A pro at entertaining swaths of children. Good at calming horses.

He’s very vain, though not arrogant. He’s surprised if someone isn’t impressed by him, but not upset or offended. He does Heroics partly because he has the ability to and thinks it's the right thing to do, but also because he likes the attention. Likes being fawned over. Doesn’t wanna wear a helmet to cover his pretty face.

Religion / Belief system: He more-or-less adheres to the Tribunal (much to the chagrin of Grandson Neris). He doesn’t believe them to be Actual Gods and thus doesn’t ‘worship’ them, but does recognize and respect them as powerful leaders and has no problem serving their will when it comes to the defense of Morrowind. He later became one of Vivec's Buoyant Armigers, and was quite reverent to both Vivec and Almalexia.

He’s wary of all Daedra. Just expects them to be troublesome and either doesn’t involve himself or actively works against them. He’s pretty straight-laced about all that.

Lifestyle

Background: He was born into a minor family in House Telvanni. Despite his lack of Notable Lineage, he proved to be very magically adept, especially in matters of restoration magic. In his early 20s he married a woman named Tendreni Ilyiil. Their marriage was a strategic one centered more on solidifying future power than anything else—his skills, and her more powerful family connections. It didn’t work out, particularly as Vendryth’s interests turned more towards being a healer rather than the acquisition of knowledge or power. He wasn’t good at communicating that it wasn’t working out however. He decided instead to simply abandon Tendreni and their infant child and forgo any connections to his house. While he would come to regret that action as he got older, he never made amends, feeling too much time had passed for it to mean anything.

Over the decades he worked with both the Mages and Fighters guild, intensely studying Restoration but also battle techniques and becoming quite powerful through the ranks as a result. Initially he took contracts through the Fighter’s Guild to assist people. Then he became a bit of a Freelance Hero around Tamriel, chasing the high of Minor Glories in numerous regions. His mastery of Restoration magic enabled him to slow his aging considerably.

His work took on a more concentrated effort when he was a little over 100 years old, in defense efforts against the first Akaviri invasion that earned him recognition among his peers. He would continue to serve in Morrowind's military for a time, and then more specifically for Vivec as a Buoyant Armiger. Through this work he had the flexibility to continue his Pro Bono Heroics around Tamriel, but would respond to calls back home when needed.

By 2840 he was back to his military engagements, operating as a high-ranking healer during the Four Score War. While certainly not always on the front, he was involved for the entire 80 engagement and managed to live through it as a decorated veteran. Unfortunately when Mournhold was sacked shortly after, Vendryth lost his head to one of Mehrunes Dagon’s army while trying to heal someone.

He had an honorable burial in Necrom, though not in the Ilyiil tomb. However, simmering generational anger over his initial abandonment of his first family led to his ghost being tracked down by Ilyiil ancestor spirits who then bound him to protect the family tomb. He was there for 600 years, and lost considerable parts of his memory and identity as the notion of being stuck there for eternity became intolerable and his emotional and mental state deteriorated. He was forgotten by everyone, beyond a few obscure scholars of specific military history, as the people who remembered him died. He became a very angry and violent spirit until he ran into Neris who was reconciling with his own feelings about his family and sense of abandonment. Neris ended up helping to free Vendryth and established a shrine for him in his own house. Kindred spirits in many ways, Neris’s companionship helped Vendryth get a lot of himself back, and Vendryth also helps Neris take his final steps away from House Telvanni.

Place of residence: In life he lived in a fancy Hall just outside Mournhold. As a ghost he hangs out in a dedicated corner of Neris’s library in Middle Of Nowhere Vvardenfell.

Occupation: Local Hero™, Buoyant Armiger, battlefield healer

Habits: He’s very particular about his appearance...a Preener. Will absolutely fuss over his reflection in a breastplate he’s shining. Winds down with smoking assorted combos of psychoactive herbs in the evenings. Tends to touch people’s arms or has a hand on their shoulder or something when he’s talking to them.

Hobbies: Adventuring (and long walks through impressive landscapes), gathering up all the local rumors, fishing, musical inclinations, reading a small always-rotating collection of books he finds in his travels and then leaves at the last inn he stayed at once he finishes them.

Likes: Campfire stories or collective songs i.e. activities that include a lot of people, theater, retelling his adventures, being recognized, quaint little towns with warm rooms.

Dislikes: Having to be sneaky or anonymous in any way (he’ll DO subtlety and anonymity if it is required of him but UGHHHH!), having to constantly confront the mortality/death of people around him, feeling ‘kept’ by anyone, losing sleep for any reason, having to skip meals.

Goals: His interests move from ‘I want people to know who I am and I want stories to be told about me’ notions of fame, and as he gets older it turns more into ‘I want to do what I feel is right and will help people’. He always appreciates public admiration and relishes in it, but ends up feeling a greater responsibility over where he stands in life and how he can contribute.

Relationships

Orientation: Straight, ish. He’s attracted to women, but he’d be flattered and wouldn’t necessarily say no if propositioned by another gender. But the actual attraction wouldn’t be there.

Relationship status: Had a long string of romances and families across the continent, as well as one dedicated long-term partnership with a General in the Four Score War that was his last relationship. As a ghost…..he’s a ghost…

Notable Relationships:

He fathered 37 children (that he knows of) over his first couple centuries. While he was never completely absent, he definitely wasn’t involved in parenting. He’d write everyone, he’d make sure everyone was materially supported, he’d show up and stay for a few weeks at a time with gifts and stories, but wasn’t much of an Active Partner. He very much considered everyone family and had no personal sense of relationship decay over time; this was met with varying degrees of agreement, acceptance, indifference, sorrow, anger, and resentment across all the different parties.

He grew to be a more somber man once he realized he was outliving them all. Not just partners, but a number of his children too.

Tendreni Ilyiil: His first wife. Their relationship was one of circumstance, duty, and politics. They were quite formal with each other, and had differing senses of ambition. When Vendryth left Tendreni was furious about it, largely because of the principle of the thing rather than because she experienced much hardship without him (though raising an infant more on her own was something she was very angry about, though there was family help for her there). She didn’t feel a loss with him gone. She thought he was a childish coward and wrote him off almost immediately for it. She moved on, but her parents harbored a more significant grudge, as did her child to an even greater degree, especially as Vendryth’s name became more widely known and celebrated. These ancestor spirits, rather than Tendreni, were the ones who ended up binding his ghost to the tomb.

Neris Ilyiil: His great great great great grandson, of Tendreni’s line, who ended up saving him from his spectral imprisonment. Vendryth is very fond of Neris and sees quite a bit of himself in the boy. He loves exchanging adventure stories with him, even though Neris’s tend to be a bit different. He’s grateful for Neris’s help and is also more than willing to provide a sense of encouragement, family, and guidance to him. 600 years in a tomb means he lost the threads of all the rest of his family members and doesn’t know where any other descendants are. As a result he’s really close to Neris because Neris is the only thing that makes him feel like he still...Existed at one time.

Lady General whom we are still working on a name for: A General who Vendryth served under in the Four Score War. She initially thought he was underwhelming which he found…completely baffling and intriguing and his conclusion was ‘she is underwhelmed by me not because I’m NOT great, but because clearly she has done something greater and now I need to find out about it’. Was deeply curious about her from the beginning. Rather than his earlier relationships that were built on initial physical attraction and his usual ‘I am going to charm her with my Gallant Hero Energy’, he grew close to her out of circumstance first and then utter respect and admiration for her as they worked together. She was his sense of grounding through the whole war and was the first person he was actually In Love with. He hoped the relationship would continue beyond the war—that he kept thinking would end the next year, and then the next year, etc. It was unrelenting and he likely wouldn’t have stayed if not for this partnership. He felt it was worth all the enduring hardship. She saw to his burial after the destruction of Mournhold.

#vendryth ilyiil #galen was like ‘u made a paladin never thought i’d see it’#i made a slutty paladin

27 notes · View notes