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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

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The Perfect Family

Alpha!Bokuto x Beta!reader x Beta!Akaashi

Author’s Note : If you’ve read the little drabbles and asks with the fluffy BokuAka family, then you’re in for a surprise. Those were not canon to the actual works I created, it was just something nice to write and think about. This will not start off fluffy at all. This will also include the pregnancy process, so be warned of that ; This is a sequel to my Kinktober piece, Threesome with Bokuto and Akaashi ; I’m so sorry it took for fucking ever

Warnings: Omegaverse, noncon/dubcon (explicit use of the word r*pe), gun play, choking, water torture (attempted drowning), gaslighting, manipulation, watersports (briefly, kind of), mindbreak, dumbification, pregnancy, creampie(s), asphyxiation, lactation, knotting, breeding (technically), degradation

Kōtarō’s rut had finally ended, pumping you full and fucking you into a stupor, all while Keiji made sure to have him give you a break. It was the week for you and Kōtarō to catch up, after all. You were bonded to Kōtarō and Keiji now, you were their mate, so you had to be taken care of. With the stinging pain on your shoulder from Kōtarō’s mark, you were only missing the legal document to bind you to Keiji the normal, Beta way. Keiji was currently thinking about which ring to get you, since Kōtarō had already decided on his “proposal” gift. Keiji figured you’d need time to adjust, however, as he was laying on the couch with Kōtarō’s arms wrapped around him, you missing. There was a cute show that they were watching, Keiji was sure you’d like it. You weren’t allowed out of the bedroom yet, so he would have to show it to you another time.

Once Kōtarō had been satisfied and Keiji had recovered, both got to work on making your stay permanent. You attempted to leave, but Keiji was quick to cuff you. Kōtarō held you down, forcing you to struggle until there was nothing left to do except lay there. Kōtarō had to go back to Osaka soon, so he was trying to enjoy his last few days in Tokyo.

“That was a fun show. Cute, too,” his yawning interrupted his sentence, cutting it short. Keiji nodded in response, snuggling closer to Kōtarō. The Alpha was warm and comfortable, it gave him a sense of home. “I gotta go back tomorrow, Akaashi,”

“I know, Bokuto-san,” Keiji sighs, knowing he’d have to work on their new pet by themselves. It was going to be a struggle. At the beginning of the week, you were so pliant and easily coerced into things. Now, you wouldn’t look or talk to them. Kōtarō threw a fit yesterday, screaming and crying because you weren’t the same person, you were much more distant. It’s the same when it comes to Keiji, however. You only looked at him with betrayal and sadness, even then only looking at him briefly. You exhausted yourself, but you were fighting them. Distancing yourself and giving them the silent treatment. It made Kōtarō not want to leave, you being so upset at him, but he didn’t have a choice.

Kōtarō needed to find a new place for everyone to live, of course. With the high probability of you becoming pregnant, you couldn’t be living in Tokyo, hours away from your alpha. Knowing you would be carrying his pups without him around had Kōtarō growling, Keiji gently patting his arm. Kōtarō calmed down at that, indulging in the calming scent of Keiji. Keiji has already been bonded to him, so it wouldn’t be as stressful if he wasn’t bonded — you were both his mates and therefore, you could be trusted in Keiji’s care. It was still hard to go. He didn’t want to leave with the state you were in.

“What place were you thinking about?” Keiji mused, running his finger in a pattern on Kōtarō’s arm. Just something to do as he mentally planned for the upcoming weeks. The type of house would determine how long those weeks would be.

“Some place big, but close by the gym and practice gym. Maybe traditional? I’ve always wanted to live in a traditional, zen kind of house,” Kōtarō’s eyes lit up as he talked, images and scenes of a large house full of his lovers and his children, playing volleyball in the yard. Keiji smiles at that, knowing it would be at least a month. Enough time to have you positively pregnant and to get you settled into your new role. It’d take effort, of course it would, but he could do it.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Bokuto-san,”

“Ya know, we really gotta get used to calling each other by our given names. You’re gonna be a Bokuto, aren’t’cha?”

“Well, of course I am. Just like [Y/N]. We’ll be the Bokuto family,” he sighs, closing his eyes as the name settles in his mind. The Bokuto family has a nice ring to it, he thinks.

Kōtarō spends his last night cuddling you to sleep. You want no part of it, lying stiff as a board as he presses kisses to your neck and rubs his hand over your stomach. It’s a sickening thought, the possibility of getting pregnant. If you really had been ovulating during the rut, you most likely were pregnant. It’s not like you’d know or not, you barely leave the bed to urinate. It’s disgusting to have to deal with, but even when you do get the bathe and do your business, Keiji is right next to you, ready to intervene if necessary. Although Kōtarō is often in there with you, lathering up your body as his touches become less innocent, Keiji’s stone-cold gaze forces you to not attempt anything silly.

When the morning comes, Kōtarō is desperate to keep something of yours until he can see you again. In order to keep him happy, you acquiesce to his demands and let him take your used clothes, yet to be washed. As if the lingering scent of the morning sex isn’t still clinging to his skin. You can’t smell it, nor Keiji, but you know it’s there as you watch him dress himself, tucking himself away as he rambles on about his plans for the future. Three kids for him, two for Keiji, a nice big house, just the ideal lifestyle for anyone. It’ll never happen, though. His delusions will soon shatter when you stay distant and refuse to love him or Keiji.

Keiji waves goodbye to you, saying he’ll come back when he’s done with work. He plans on taking Kōtarō to the train station and then going to work, so you’ll be stuck for the next few hours. Until dinner time, that is. After an hour, you hear a ping from your phone and reach over to look at it. You can still use your phone, of course, but any possibility of calling for help is useless. In this society, nobody would help you. Not only that, your phone is bugged and linked to Keiji’s. He knows when you unlock your phone, what you do at what time, and how long you’re on it. You’re almost positive he can shut it off if he wants to.

The noise is a message from Kōtarō, telling you he misses you already. A roll of the eyes as you lock it, setting it beside you again. You’re able to barely reach the table beside the bed, but none of the drawers. One hand is secured to the headboard, wooden and strong enough to withstand Kōtarō’s ruthless rut. You feel restless as the day has only begun, the next time you will be able to move out of the bed, if at all, will be when Keiji comes home.

The doorknob to the apartment jiggles, making you jump. Keiji should’ve gone to work, so the sudden noise was unexpected. When it finally turns, you expect to see the familiar hair of your former friend, the tousled raven hair and the broad build. Although the man has the proper stature, the hoodie covering his head and the cheap-looking mask covering his face prevent you from properly identifying him. You can’t tell if he’s smirking or not, the intense feeling that he’s giving off tells you he is. With your hand secured to the bed, you really don’t have much in the way of options. The phone is still an option, but you doubt you could get to it in time.

The man lunges towards you, spurring you to attempt to grab the phone. Your fingers brush the metal device before your arm is forcefully gripped and twisted. You scream as your body twists, attempting to lessen the pain. It’s useless, but you still try. When your mouth opens, he quickly shoves something round and hard in it, your tongue pressed against the barrel of the gun.

“Don’t move a muscle,” his voice was low and hoarse, as if he was adjusting it to hide his identity. It was still unfamiliar to you, your brain unable to register what was going on. The man easily overpowers you, using his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. Fear prickles your skin, the chill setting in deep into your bones despite the lingering warmth of the fading Summer heat. It’s a horrible feeling, frozen in fear as your mind races, unable to do anything except stay still. It’s horrible, the fact you listen to the stranger’s demands despite wishing you were dead and out of Kōtarō and Keiji’s grasps. The gun is removed from your mouth, but the knowledge of it being in his possession is enough to keep you compliant, barely acknowledging the man’s hands moving to slip under the dress you were kindly given.

To keep yourself ready and easily accessible to both Keiji and Kōtarō until they had to part, it was best to slip you into a plain and simple white sundress. It was a present from Kōtarō, a small way of saying you were his now. With the lack of panties or other undergarment, you were essentially naked to the intruder as he sat on his heels, dark eyes scanning over your form. You were shaking from the fear, the unknown, but you weren’t attempting to move or thrash about. It was so easy to take advantage of you, you already nice and wet for him, too. The slick buildup from the morning session with Kōtarō lingers, as well as the creamy substance of his seed fucked into you. Unless the intruder was an Alpha, he couldn’t do much damage, but the thought of leaving you alone without a touch, a taste, was too unbearable.

It didn’t take long for the feeling of something hard and thick to push against your folds, collecting slick and teasing, your sensitivity making you whimper at the touch. It was a sudden plunge, forcing himself deep into your cunt as he groaned, your walls clenching around him. You thought the groan sounded familiar, but there was no more time to think on it when he put his hand on your throat, effectively shutting off proper access to your lungs. Your walls tighten again around him, him finding it hard to retract his hips but thrusting back in. His pace isn’t too fast, but his thrusts are brutal as he continues to drive his cock into your sensitive and abused pussy. He’s not an Alpha, you can tell by the lack of an inflating knot, but it still remains that you’re being violated by an unknown man. The whimpers coming from your throat are all you can release, barely sucking in air to stay conscious. When your vision starts to fade, the man and the walls of the room slowly blurring together, you start to panic.

The gun is still beside you, but it’s not your concern. The bullet in the chamber can’t threaten you unless the barrel’s against your head, but the hand currently cutting off oxygen is threatening your life. Attempting to dig your nails into the fabric of the hoodie is useless, his work gloves keeping his hands from getting any marks, either. Your lungs burn from lack of air and your vision slowly fades to black, a heat and chill settling over your body at the same time as you continue to feel his body pinning you down. The brutal fucking is the only sensation you still have, the stinging of your skin as he snaps his hips to meet yours and the squelching sounds from your sloppy pussy, cum and slick spurting and coating his cock as he chases his own high. You don’t know if he finished inside, your sensations dying out as you slip into unconsciousness.

When you wake up, your lungs ache and your face feels wet. When you flutter your eyes open, you’re faced with the creamy beige walls of Keiji’s bedroom, the lamp and phone on the bedside table. A presence is beside you, a large hand gently brushing your hair. Your eyes widen as you jolt, Keiji gently shushing you as he holds you. It’s comforting, someone familiar beside you after the experience you just had. You don’t know what happened after everything went black, but the smell of Keiji’s morning coffee and his cologne calm you down, tears spilling out as your fists bunch up the fabric of his shirt.

“I had a bad feeling, so I immediately came back home. I didn’t expect you to be completely unconscious, what did you do?” He asked, oblivious to what had really transpired. It was painful to recall, the fear from before rising again as you remember the man’s stature, looming over you as he pinned you to the bed. Another fit of tears come, the droplets soaking the white of Keiji’s shirt. “Darling, you need to tell me what’s wrong. What-“

“A stranger,” a hiccup interrupted you, red and tired eyes looking to his face. He looks confused, so you need to press on. “He broke in. Violated me. He— he ra-“

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. If I had known something so horrible would happen, I wouldn’t have left you all alone. You could’ve come with me, but you’ve been so naughty, you know,” his voice is gentle, but there’s a certain chill in his voice that has your fear spiking. His hands are warm, caressing your back as he speaks. “But, you know, you cheated on Bokuto-san and I. I have to punish you,”

“I— I didn’t do it on purpose!” Why were you defending yourself? Your mind had to momentarily adjust itself, the feeling of helplessness from earlier now back. Once the cuff had released the headboard, it was nothing for Keiji to force you into the bathroom. No amount of strength you had could compare to him, nor height. He wasn’t afraid to hurt you either, almost smashing your fingers in the door frame because you wouldn’t let go. “Akaashi, stop!!”

“Akaashi? Now, we can’t have that. You should address me properly, dear,” he grips your face, smushing your cheeks together as you find yourself practically flung into the tub. It’s already full of hot water, almost scalding, as he holds your head under. Struggling once more, it’s futile. His strength far surpasses yours, stature looming over you. Under the water, his image is distorted, but the way he looks down at you feels familiar. Before that thought can continue, you feel your lungs burning as you thrash again, thoughts only focused on surviving. When your head is pulled up, you gulp air as you cough, water sputtering as you do. “You need to be punished.”

“Let me go, I didn’t do anythi-“ your head is once more under the water, nails digging into the flesh of Keiji’s arms as he holds you still. You didn’t get a good gulp of air, so you’re quickly back at the previous feeling of helplessness as your lungs burn, vision blurring. Before everything goes black, you’re once more pulled from the water. Your face is hot, either from lack of air or the heat of the bathroom and water, you’re not too sure. But Keiji is sure of one thing and that’s the way you’re clinging to him. You were digging your nails into him, squirming and attempting to leave, but now your nails were digging into his as your grip tightened around his forearm. You were clinging to him, unconsciously seeing him as your savior, as he was the one who controlled your ability to breathe, therefore your life. He could drown you if he wanted to, but Kōtarō wouldn’t like that. No, he just needed you to depend on him, change your stance on how you saw your lovers.

Keiji also couldn’t help how delicious you looked, drenched as steam rose from the water, your white dress floating around you as if you were an ethereal being. You looked angelic and untainted... an urge to corrupt you washed over him, compelling his body into the steaming water. It was a tight fit, but he managed. With his sweatpants on, it was easy for him to simply push down the waistband and pull out his cock. “Now I have to cover up that man’s scent, or do you want everyone to know you’re a whore?”

“Akaashi, enough, this isn’t any diff-“

“Are you saying I’m a rapist? That’s what you’re implying, right? If you really think that, then I’ll be that. I would never purposefully hurt you,” his words contradict his actions, his hard cock pressing into your walls as he speaks. Sensitivity still lingers, your legs twitching as he sinks down to the hilt. “You’re saying I’m the bad guy, aren’t you? Well, how about I be the bad guy? Let’s recreate the scenario,”

“Akaashi, please, stop!” You cry out, weak limbs attempting to push him off. Hot, fat tears stream down your cheeks as Keiji licks them away, kissing their trails as you continue to sob at the feeling. It was a horrible feeling, being helpless, but a part of you knew you were safe. Keiji wouldn’t let you die, the only thing that prevented you from putting more effort in. Even with the splashing water, he kept one hand on the back of your head to prevent you from going under. Keiji’s pace is always the same — slow strokes, but deep and meaningful as he rocks his hips into yours and makes sure to roll his hips. It’s a completely opposite of Kōtarō’s, brutal and relentless, but Kōtarō fils you out more. Keiji has to make sure you feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse from his cock and have it completely engraved into your mind.

When Keiji gets close, he holds you closer to him, kissing your neck as your hands grasp at the tub’s edges, mind reeling from the force of your orgasms. Your nerves are on fire, your walls constantly clamping around Keiji’s cock like a vice, all while he rides out his own high. He presses a sweet kiss to the mark on your neck, where it meets your shoulder, right where he sports a matching mark on his own skin. It’s Kōtarō’s bond, what links him to the two of you forever. With a final thrust, Keiji spills deep inside you as he kisses you deeply, forcing you to swallow his moan of pleasure as he swallows your mewls. You’re still tight around him, walls fluttering pathetically around his girth as he relishes in the way you feel, keeping his seed locked inside you.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting heavily, chests heaving for different reasons. “There. Now he’s gone,” a gentle kiss on your temple. With those words, a silence settles over the room. Although the stranger may be gone, in his place stands Akaashi Keiji.

The next day, Keiji is home.

“Just a precaution, dear,” he had said. “So nothing else bad will happen to you when I’m not here. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” With those words, he convinced you of his intentions. The previous day’s events had you rattled, the fear of being alone subconsciously rooted into your mind. A small whimper of Keiji’s name, his given name, had him smiling and cooing at you, taking you anywhere in the apartment you wanted to go. It was nice to finally leave the bedroom and bathroom sections, seeing the front room and kitchen, able to hear and see people outside the windows. You dare not let your eyes linger too long on the windows, covered completely with only shadows passing by, nor on the door. The door which had a recently newly installed lock, to take extra precautions. A passing thought of how it seemed to be so quickly enforced comes by, leaving as you become hyper aware of the blank gaze Keiji gives you. It’s not blank, per se. It looks blank to many bystanders, but to you, you know he’s focusing. He’s watching you and analyzing what you do. It’s a test.

A test you seem to have passed, when he calls you back for a bath. He doesn’t guide you there, no threats, just a simple “Come along,” as he walks towards the same bathroom he almost drowned and violated you in. The fear and anxiety of going back has your flight or fight response kicking in, the seemingly easy option of flinging the door open and leaving has your legs moving. But Keiji is quicker, stronger, and smarter than you. Before your fingertips can even graze the lock, your face is slammed into the floor.

“You were doing so well, too,” his feet are planted on either side of you, one moving to plant itself on your back. With a bit of force, you’re screaming as he has his heel pushing into your spine. “You deserve to be punished.”

“Fuck you, Akaashi!” You spit, squirming and wriggling to get him off. When his foot moves, you attempt to get up, but soon he drops down and fists your hair in one hand, the other pushing your cheeks together.

“I should wash that dirty mouth of yours,” he growls, shoving your face against the floor. By shoving, he essentially drops you into the floor. With a burning sensation in your nose, you feel a vaguely familiar liquid trickling out, a small red dot beneath you. He does it once more, making sure to keep his hand on your head to prevent you from getting up. “I trusted you to listen to me, [Y/N],”

“I’ll never listen to you,” you declare, hands balling into fists beside you. “I’ll never forgive you and Bokuto for what you did. I’ll never forgive or forget how you raped me, either!”

“I did no such thing. You enjoyed it, whore. You clamped around me like a vice last night, just as you probably did the stranger that violated you. Can it be consider violation if you were wet? What about when you started to enjoy it?”

“How would you know that, unless-“

“I know how much of a slut you can be, sleeping around with Alphas in high school and other Betas. You probably got off on being raped,” He sneers, putting more force in his hand, making it uncomfortable as your cheek is smushed against the floor.

“Fuck you,”

“I’ll take that as a yes. As a punishment, you won’t be leaving that bedroom for some time,” he finally lets you free, a large breath of air inhaled as you realize he was putting his weight on your lungs. “Come here,”

Wrenched from the ground, you find yourself dragged, kicking and screaming, back into the bedroom where Keiji cuffs you to the headboard. He’s huffing, but he manages to get both wrists cuffed to the headboard. Back to square one, with you refusing to acknowledge him while he tries to talk. Well, he does talk, you’re forced to listen.

When dinner time comes around, you expect some plain chicken broth or maybe even water, but instead you’re given nothing. Keiji doesn’t come in the room at all. The water running let’s you know he’s washing dishes, but where’s your meal? When his humming enters the room, you know he’s coming down. When he opens the door, in his hand lays a plate with bread crust and crumbs, along with some pocky sticks. Just two, however. Barely considered a meal. “Dinner!”

“You’re kidding me,”

“Dear, you know I don’t joke around easily. You were naughty this afternoon, so you’re going to eat my leftovers. Bread crust and some stale pocky sticks is the only thing on your menu,”

“I’ll starve instead,” a glare sent his way does frazzle him one bit, instead almost makes him... chippier. As if you’re falling for his well hidden trap. A nod and he’s gone, your only source of food with him. He won’t enter to room again until nighttime, so you’re left to wallow in your own solitude, something you used to take for granted.

When Keiji does finally come into the room, you’re excited to see him before remembering you don’t like him. Instead of taking the key and releasing your restraints to sleep, he grabs his pillow, his blanket, and his phone charger. “Where are you going?”

“Well, since you obviously hate me, I thought it’d be best that I leave you alone. After all, that is what you wanted, yes?” A small smirk is on his face as your eyes widen, thoughts running through your head as he takes his leave. Without a bid goodnight, Keiji leaves you alone in the room. With no possible entertainment except your mind, you feel uneasy. Unsteady. The world is suddenly dropping you off in an empty room with nothing and you can’t think of anything to keep yourself entertained. The television set buzzes to life outside, while the popping of popcorn fills your ears along with the melted butter smell. An urge to move flits around, but you decide it is best to not.

The next day, it’s a similar situation. Within three days of Kōtarō’s leave, you’ve found yourself craving his company more than ever. Keiji is ruthless and merciless, entering the bedroom for clothes and then leaving for work. He doesn’t talk to you, he doesn’t look at you, he barely enters the room anymore. You feel your stomach grumble at the thought of food, your mouth dry from the lack of fluids in your system. A pathetic way to die, one would think. With the lack of nutrition, your body will eventually decay or fall into an unstable state. Keiji isn’t a dunce, he knows this — at least, he should. Why then, you wonder, is he allowing this? Not only are you completely attached to the bed, but you haven’t been able to get up at all, even for bathroom use. The urine has stained the sheets, turning the pristine white cotton into a grimy yellow color, the ammonia stench covering the entire bedroom. You felt like a helpless child, in dire need of your parents to come home.

In a way, that’s what it was. You were helpless and needed someone else’s help. You need Keiji’s help. You can only go so long before you end up breaking, and you’ve reached a limit. The disgusting liquid under you was the final thread, the squelching and squeezing every time your hips move to a different area to attempt to leave the spot resulting in a failed attempt. The white dress was soaked, first from the bathroom incident and now it was dyed yellow due to your own fluids. Kōtarō wouldn’t be happy with those results.

When Keiji finally comes home, you hear him. You hear the door close and a sigh. Waiting for him to enter the room is quickly disregarded as you call for him. With no hesitation, he arrives at the room, looking at you. “You called, darling?”

“Keiji, please. I’m sorry I was bad. I need you, please don’t leave me,” you cry out, pulling on the cuffs. Shushing you, he quickly attends to your wrists, red and raw from the tugging, pulling, and twisting you’ve done over the past day. Once one hand is free from the restraint, he’s happy to feel it grabbing his shoulder, a silent beg to not leave. “Kei-“

“I know, I know. I won’t hurt you,” his words calm you down, sobs turning into hiccups as he guides you off the bed. Your legs are weak, unstable from lack of use, so he bridal carries you into the bathroom, not caring about the urine. After setting you on the toilet, he strips you of your dress and starts the bath. Trusting you to not move, he leaves. Another test, to see if you’ve really shaped up after the last attempt.

Keiji stands in the bedroom, pulling the sheets off the bed and removing the pad. He puts them aside, but waits. No movement from the bathroom, not even the toilet seat squeaking or the shutting off of the water. Continuing to put the sheets and dress away, he picks out a set of panties — new and clean, a treat for being good — to go with the pastel pink sundress. It looks exactly like the other one, except the color. After getting a towel and a change of clothes himself, he leaves.

You’re still sitting on the toilet, looking at him as he enters. Perking up, you push into the hand the caresses your head, brushing the tangled hair. He stops the water, guiding you into the tub. Once you’re settled, he strips down and joins you.

“You’re not going to hurt me?” You ask, voice dull.

“Of course not. When have I ever done that?”

The next day is such an improvement, Keiji can’t help but let Kōtarō know how well you’ve adjusted. You’re compliant out of fear rather than love, but Kōtarō doesn’t know that. He’s so excited to see a picture of you cooking in the kitchen, he probably wouldn’t care. The picture doesn’t capture the longing look at the knives, the fleeting glances at the door, the rigidness of your body as Keiji wraps his arms around you. It’s small gestures, but you never move to accomplish the action. Your finger might twitch, a gulp as you see the unlocked door, but you continue on. You make the noodles, you bring the tray to Keiji, you sit in his lap and allow the arms to secure your place. The food is something you’re ever thankful for, the lack of food spurring your resilience into breaking. With a gentle blow, Keiji feeds you the ramen you dutifully prepared for the both of you all day.

You never looked at the door again. You never looked at the knives unless you were cutting something. Even with Keiji breathing down your neck, eyes focused on your hands, you didn’t twitch or move to hurt him. You went to the bathroom and didn’t complain when he joined you. Even when he had to do his little daily checkup, you didn’t complain. The first time, you mentioned it tickled and questioned what he was doing, sticking his nose between your legs as he pried them open. He just smiled and said he needed to know if you were healthy, to which your questions easily stopped. Although he occasionally swept his tongue over your still wet folds, you never told him to go away and leave you alone. Even when he went further and had put you on the bathroom’s countertop before diving between your legs once more, your fingers thread themselves through his hair as you moaned.

When the news of Kōtarō coming back reached your ears, you didn’t know how to feel. Keiji was the one to help you, give you comfort, so you didn’t feel too excited to see Kōtarō. Keiji knew this would cause problems, as Kōtarō was expecting you to be as loving to him as you were to Keiji. After an explanation of the situation, you promised to perform appropriately for Kōtarō. With a whispered threat of locking you up again, you easily complied with everything you were asked to do. When Kōtarō came through the door, he was easily able to catch you as you jumped on him. “Welcome back!”

“Aw, [Y/N]! I’m glad to be back!” He nuzzled into your neck, indulging in your scent. You could easily pretend to be in love with Kōtarō, but your scent would tell him if you were feeling off. With his superior senses, you had to be forced into a mindset where you did love Kōtarō. Threats and memories of the past had could nodding along, situating yourself into his life easily. “I missed you, a lot,”

“Well, we won’t have to be gone for so long again, right?” You ask, a pout forming. “Or are you going to leave me?”

“Oh, no! You’re gonna live with me,” he grins, a closed eye smile. Your eyes widen as the information is processing, Keiji coming from the kitchen.

“It was a surprise for you. We’ll be moving to Osaka to be close to Bokuto-san,” he’s drying a knife, one he recently finished washing, but it’s also a silent threat. Kōtarō didn’t see the horrified look on your face, but he sure did.

“O-Oh. Okay! I can’t wait, when are we.. when do we move?” Twiddling your fingers, Kōtarō wraps his arms around you once more, effectively picking you up. No hesitating, your legs wrap around his waist as he looks up at your face, love flooding his eyes.

“You’ll move in with me tomorrow. Once Akaashi’s boxed everything up, he’ll join us. Our room is all set up, and there’s lots of rooms for kids. Speaking of-!”

“Another time, Bokuto-san,” Keiji harshly whispered, Kōtarō’s eyes widening before smiling, nodding. You didn’t know what that was, but you then focused on Kōtarō moving to the couch.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving! Maybe I can have something special for dessert, if you know what I mean,” with an added eyebrow wiggle, you shyly smile and nod. It’s what Keiji told you would please Kōtarō. It’s what Keiji told you that you need to do.

The dinner itself is fine, but when you ask to use the restroom, Kōtarō points out the red splotches on your white dress. Panicking, you attempt to locate the spot as your face heats up in embarrassment. Keiji then points out the bit of blood on Kōtarō’s pants, making you think your cycle has started. At that mention, Kōtarō’s growling in anger as you seize up in fear, unsure of what to do. Keiji tells you to change while he deals with Kōtarō, you immediately obeying and going to the bedroom.

“I thought ovulating meant she would get pregnant. Why isn’t she pregnant? Were you wrong?” Kōtarō asks, still angry. He knows he scared you, your lingering scent of fear in the room and around him. He thought he could smell another scent on you, but he didn’t know what it could be.

“Bokuto-san, I know this is frustrating but it’s possible she didn’t get pregnant. However, spotting is a sign of pregnancy. It was only a few drops. If she has anymore blood leakage that gets heavy tonight, we’ll know,” Keiji is able to calm down Kōtarō, who rolls his shoulders back and lies against the back of the couch. “Do you want to change your jeans?”

“Nah, it’s barely noticeable. Plus,” a thumb runs over the denim, Kōtarō licking his lips as his eyes darken, “this is like she’s claiming me, right?”

Kōtarō does not force himself on you that evening. Instead, he just cuddles you that night. It’s a differing touch than Keiji’s, who ends up rolling to the other side of the bed in the night. Kōtarō holds you close and tightly all night, snuggling closer to you, as if it was possible, and nudging his nose in your neck. It’s sweet, you think, as he caresses you like you’re made of glass.

The next morning, Kōtarō has you properly dressed to leave with him. A set of panties, sweatpants, t-shirt, and a hoodie. It’s a casual set of clothes, but they are all you came to Keiji’s house in a week and a half ago. Kōtarō says he’ll get you better clothes once you’re settled in, but you feel uneasy as you bid goodbye to Keiji. He worries about your mental state once you’re alone with Kōtarō, but he just has to hope you’re able to seem stable enough for a day.

In Osaka, you feel like your life is beginning anew. It’s not much different from Tokyo, but as Kōtarō guides you through the streets, it becomes known that Osaka has a lot more greenery. It’s very beautiful, in your opinion. When he stops in front of an old house, you glance at him. “Our new home, sweetheart!” He cheers, kissing your cheek as he picks you up. Carrying you inside the house, you notice the security. The gate is only opened via pin entry, which the gate itself is roughly 2 meters tall. Even the door to the house requires thumbprint access, a very modern and technological touch in an older, traditional house.

He shows you to your room, which is also his room, but yours too. It has its modern touch, with the remaining aspect of futons to lay on. The cameras in the hallway also are in your view, the one in the bedroom and the hallway. Looking into each room, you notice they are containing cameras, but one room is different. “What’s this?”

“Oh? This is our nursery! So, when you have a baby, it’ll be in here,” he chirps, pointing out things in the room. Scanning the room, you notice the lack of camera secured.

“Where’s the camera?”

“What— what camera?” Rubbing the back of his neck, he fakes confusion. You see right through it.

“I noticed the other cameras. There’s not one here,”

“Oh, well, that’s because this room has baby monitors!” He gestures to the white device. A nod of understanding has the tour moving on. Showing you to the kitchen, you notice the pantry and fridge are stocked. “Would you make me dinner?”

“Of course. What do you want?”

“You, served hot and steaming in the bath,” he grins. Eyes widen as you realize what he wants, you sheepishly laughing as you acquiesce.

Kōtarō is much rougher than Keiji, you knew that, but the way he fucks you with fervor as he hasn’t seen you in almost five days is something akin to his rut. Sinking his teeth into your skin, remarking his territory as he spurs you into your first orgasm of the night. Your nails are digging into his broad shoulders, the only thing you can use to keep yourself grounded. The setting wasn’t in the bathroom, but rather the bedroom where he claimed he wanted to “seal the deal” of you coming home. Legs tighten around his waist, back arching as he continues to drive his cock into you and litter your neck with less painful marks, claiming already claimed territory. As he presses a wet, sloppy kiss against your lips, you scream as you tighten your walls, feeling his knot force its way inside you.

A warm hand rubs the side of your body as your walls convulse around him, squeezing as he pumps you full of his cum. It’s a memory to you, but it feels so warm and fulfilling, you immediately relax in his hold as he continues to pepper kisses along your body. It’s a comforting feeling, being praised and cared for, a drastic difference from the way Keiji treated you a few days ago. Well, how you think he treated you a few days ago. He said he never did it, but your body said differently. With Kōtarō’s eyes of love looking down on you, you didn’t think it mattered. That was in the past, this was the present. You felt comfortable here, that was what mattered.

When Keiji arrived with a bunch of boxes, you were told to make them lunch so they could eat when they were done. Kōtarō said he didn’t want you straining yourself after last night, so you agree to his demands. Deciding to make some udon for lunch, you get to work as they lug in the boxes. The boxes aren’t large nor heavy, but watching Kōtarō easily lift three of them with no effort, while Keiji brings in two at most with also no effort, you feel yourself get wet at the thought of them hot and sweaty afterwards. With a possible treat in mind, you work more diligently, mentally preparing yourself to ask them.

Keiji mentioned he’d be looking for another job while Kōtarō was at the gym. It would be the first time you would be alone and free to roam. You begged Keiji to not leave for too long, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt as he pried your hands off. Kōtarō gave you a sweet kiss before he left, telling you he’d try to hurry back, but you knew Keiji would get back first. Sitting in the large house, you didn’t know what to do except cook and sleep. Your phone screen lit up with a message from Kōtarō, a picture of him blowing you a kiss with a message of ‘I miss you!’ under it. You smile at that, sending back a message that you miss him, too.

Before you lock your phone, you look at the many games you have on it. There’s one game you don’t remember being on it, it looks like a tracker app. Clicking on it, it welcomes you and it shows how far along you are in.. pregnancy? First reaction is to panic, how do you know if you’re pregnant? Going into the internet app, you search up symptoms of pregnancy. One that jumps out to you is the spotting, only a little bit of blood as the sperm fertilizes the egg. It is most likely what you did on Kōtarō’s lap, the day he came to Tokyo. Another surge of panic comes as you think of your lovers, your mates. With Keiji looking for a new job and Kōtarō being busy with being a professional athlete, they don’t have time to take care of you and a baby. You decide to not tell them.

Although you decide to not tell them, the next week is excuses of your recent symptoms. You find yourself more exhausted than usual, not even getting out of bed to bid goodbye to Kōtarō and Keiji. Not only that, you end up in the bathroom as you feel sick, but only half of the times does something come up. It’s when you have another episode of morning sickness does Keiji pop the question. “Should I get a pregnancy test?”

“N-No! I’m not pregnant, just some bad sushi!” When Keiji’s grip on your arm gets tighter, you whimper. “Keiji, stop hurting me,”

“I’m not hurting you, I just need you to tell me the tru-“ the door shutting cuts him off, his attention to the door of the bathroom where Kōtarō is, panting.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it,”

“I’m just a bit sick-“ “She’s pregnant-“ You both speak at the same time. Your eyes widen as Keiji looks at you.

“Pregnant? Now? Really?” Kōtarō is ecstatic, but you don’t take it that way.

“I’m not, I promise! I’m sorry!” You beg. Kōtarō’s mood turns sour, the anger directed towards you. Keiji stands back, but he doesn’t interfere.

“Why are you lying to me? If Keiji says you are, then you are! I know you’re lying!” He kneels on the ground and grabs your shoulders, digging his meaty fingers into the flesh. You yelp in pain, attempting to get him off. “Why are you doing this?! You were doing so well!”

“Stop, Kō-chan, stop! You’re hurting me!” A call out of his childhood nickname has his rage quelling, as you brush his hands off and rub the stinging skin. “I don’t want to be pregnant,”

“This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what we want, do you understand that?” Keiji speaks, voice low and threatening. You quickly nod your head, attempting to explain yourself.

“I- I thought that you wouldn’t want a baby because you’re both busy! I don’t- I don’t want to burden you more than I do,” with your words, the anger and rage suddenly evaporates as they understand.

“Burden us? Baby, we love you and do everything for you. You’re going to be carrying my pups and Keiji’s babies, we want this. This is all I ever hoped for,” Kōtarō coos, taking your hands and pressing a kiss to them. A fit of sobs escape as you wrap your arms around him, hiccuping into his chest. Keiji sits and smiles, knowing you have completely adjusted into the proper role.

With the news of your pregnancy, Kōtarō is able to get off a lot more to be there for you. You’re no omega, so it’s not as if he has to take off for 9 months, and Keiji is there to take care of you. Keiji takes care of any appointments you need to do, signing you into a private hospital nearby where Kōtarō’s teammate’s omega gave birth. A list of what was normal was given to you and Keiji and what would be a cause for concern, so you made sure to drill into your head about the possible problems. It was vital that you were able to give birth, being able to give Kōtarō and Keiji what they wanted all you needed to take care of yourself. Keiji prepared your meals, making sure you were eating properly even before the bump showed.

When the bump became prominent, you were glad that your wardrobe consisted of dresses. The dresses you had were all loose-fitting and easy to move around in. With the upcoming winter months, you had lots of blankets and an oversized jacket, bearing Kōtarō’s MSBY number and logo. Kōtarō couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always rubbing your bump and pinching the extra fat you were putting on. Worry over the added weight was a brief concept that quickly evaporated as Kōtarō voiced how much he loves the extra meat to fondle and love, tickling you as you giggle afterwards. Keiji couldn’t say he disagreed with Kōtarō, the added weight adding to your cuteness charm as you did the most basic and minuscule things. He could disagree with Kōtarō on the obsession with the pregnancy milk, however.

Lactation was painful, the way your boobs ached as they were full of creamy milk. Although they ache, Kōtarō encouraged you to let him drink from them. Hesitation was in the beginning, but once his lips had secured themselves on your nipple and started sucking, it was quite relaxing. The tender ache in your breasts were gone as Kōtarō drank from them, but he often had to drink from both of them due to Keiji’s aversion. He didn’t see the appeal, he rather enjoyed teasing your nipples when the sexual appetite of yours had risen, but he didn’t see the appeal in drinking the milk. Keiji did oblige Kōtarō, however, in looking into lactation cookies, which would increase milk production and could even make it taste better. It was worth a try, as it would help the children to develop as you breastfed them.

The lactation cookies Keiji made looked awful, but tasted amazing. You would have eaten all of them had it not been for Keiji stopping you. Kōtarō seemed excited, immediately begging for another go. He’d have to wait until nighttime, since he often took naps after you breastfed him during the day.

At night, you often slept completely naked, able to easily feed Kōtarō if he woke up in the middle of the night. Your sex drive had risen exponentially in your second trimester, to the point Kōtarō had to request off to take care of you. He made sure to keep his promise, stuffing you with his thick cock and plugging you up with his cum or lapping at your folds until your fluids splashed against his face. With the third trimester underway, your libido has decreased while your milk had increased, but that didn’t deter Kōtarō from getting frisky. Even as Keiji bathed away from you two, he couldn’t help but touch himself to your whines and mewls.

Kōtarō has been riding a cloud since your pregnancy came about. Even before the milk, he found it hard to resist fucking you, especially with the added sensitivity. Your breasts were larger now, bouncing with every thrusts as he tweaks the nipples, watching the cream dribble from them. He can’t help himself, really, as he goes to attach himself to one of your perky buds. When Keiji enters the room, he chuckles at the sight.

“Should we worry that there won’t be enough milk for you and the baby?” He muses, sitting on the futon next to you. Your hand grasps at his silk shirt, bringing him down to give you a kiss. Even as Kōtarō drills into you, you want more. A wet pop resounds around the room as Kōtarō laughs, groaning in your ear as he plugs you with his knot, pumping you full.

“The pup can have those bottles, and with help of those miracle cookies, we should be fine. You sure you don’t want to at least try a bit? It feels nice for her, doesn’t it, my little Beta?” He coos, pressing kisses to your cheeks as you come down from your high, walls fluttering around Kōtarō’s cock.

“It relieves some pain, I’ll admit that,” you smile at Keiji. “You can try,”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” He smiles back at you, brushing hair out of your face. Kōtarō massages your breast, holding it so Keiji can attach his lips to the nipple. His eyes focus on the creamy liquid dripping from the bud, only to become transparent as it follows gravity. When he does get a taste, he knows he’s in trouble. It’s as delicious as Kōtarō said, creamy and full that makes you want more. As he sucks with fervor, you giggle and Keiji is joined by his other lover, suckling any milk he left behind. It’s such a strange thing to happen, both grown men sucking on your chest as if they had been born only recently. With the swell of your stomach, you knew they’d have to share their milky mine.

As your due date drew near, you found yourself unable to do anything alone. Kōtarō was off completely until you delivered and Keiji was no longer looking for a job, as it was decided Kōtarō made enough for everyone to live comfortably. He knew he’d have to find another job soon, as more children were born and needed to be fed, but that was a well ways off, at least 9 more months.

What started as a normal day soon turned to chaos as preparations for delivery expedited when your water broke. The hospital had your room prepared already, but it was for your week stay as you were three days away from your date. Kōtarō was in a frenzy, unsure of what to do but desperate to do something. Keiji has to drive to the hospital, while you were doing breathing exercises with Kōtarō in the back seat. It was the birth of their first child, so even Keiji was panicking, but he was also excited.

Once settled into the room, the nurses had to check to see how far along you were dilated. Kōtarō was anxious, his scent permeating the room as he started to pace. The doctor had come in, spurring him into a fighting mentality because the doctor was another Alpha. Keiji and a nurse had to get him out of the room, with a promise he could see the children once they were born, but he would have to wait in the waiting room. Weakly calling out his name and telling him you were fine, he obliged as he left, punching the wall once as he felt his emotions boil over. Keiji was by your side, holding your hand as you squeeze it, pushing when the doctor told you to.

When the room was filled with screaming, the clock chiming as 12:15 had arrived, signaling the date of birth of your first born son. With his stubby arms and legs, you laughed as you held him, Keiji getting the honor of cutting the cord. The baby still needed to be cleaned and checked over, so the doctor and nurses took him while Keiji went to get Kōtarō. By the time Kōtarō and Keiji has come back, you were holding a small, but still big, baby boy swaddled in a thick blanket. Kōtarō immediately raced over to look over both of you, his scent out of control as his emotions mingled together. He didn’t know what to think.

“It looks like it’s yours, Kōtarō,” Keiji says, hand resting on Kōtarō’s shoulder. He smiles in response, looking at the baby’s golden eyes blinking open at him.

“Sure does, Keiji. I guess the next thing we should work on is proper marriage, right?” He watches as the baby grasps his finger, the small hand even smaller compared to his large one.

“A proper marriage, yes. The ring, the dress, the ceremony, you would like that, wouldn’t you dear?”

“Of course Keiji. Anything you want.” As you look up to him, he sees nothing but love in your eyes. He smiles, nodding in agreement.

“Well, as well as making sure the next one’s mine. We should start on that as soon as possible, don’t you think?”

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Text

Hair of the Dog

The problem with having a goat as a pet was that Eskel had a goat as a pet. It was usually wonderful, Lil Bleater was a menace and Eskel loved her for it. Alas, some days she was a little more than he bargained for. Visiting Geralt on the farm was always a delight, it was one of the few places Bleats could explore without a leash and Eskel knew she was safe.

All in all it was a great day, a rarity for the whole extended family to get together. Geralt had Yennefer and Jaskier with him, they were playing pass the parcel with Ciri, except whenever they unwrapped her, it was always a dirty nappy rather than a fun treat under her layers. How Eskel ended up with a family where both his brothers had two partners was a mystery, it was perhaps why he was still a bachelor with only Lil Bleater as his companion, Lambert and Geralt had soaked up all the appeal for themselves and left none for Eskel.

"Where are the Gremlins?" Eskel asked, looking around. The Gremlins were also known as Lambert, Aiden and Cahir. One at a time and they were manageable but the three together wreaked unknown havoc and destroyed an alarming number of clothes between them. If they ever wore safety pins through clothes, Eskel knew it wasn't for aesthetics at all.

"Last I heard they were heading for the barn. Cahir was going to see whether the new pony is ready to be worked yet." Somehow Geralt sounded resigned and they all knew that while the trio might have looked at the gelding, they were most definitely going to be making out or more in one of the empty stalls.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel nodded. "I'm not risking that. Tell them I said goodbye and that Lambert still owes me a drink next week, will you?" He clicked his tongue and watched as Lil Bleater blatantly ignored him in favour of hopping over puddles. Just because she was having too much fun and still full of energy despite a whole day of charging around didn't mean she got to keep going. Resigned to his fate of chasing his goat in order to get her home, Eskel lumbered off, trying to look like he wasn't approaching her with intent. Needless to say, it didn't work. With expert ease Lil Bleater avoided him, bounding just out of reach. Even worse, he brothers were watching and Eskel wanted to growl at them that they might as well help if they were going to watch. Thankfully he managed to grab his wayward goat, only for her to protest in the worst possible way, she threw herself onto the ground. Normally Eskel wouldn't mind but she chose to roll in a puddle, her white fur soaking in the muddy water and staining it.

"Well shit."

Dripping goat firmly leashed, Eskel stared at her. She watched him unrepentantly for a moment before trying to nibble at her leash. Eskel had learned the hard way that he needed a metal chain leash for her, nothing else survived her incessant chomping. There was no way he could take her home like that, and hosing her down wasn't going to be much good as she's just drip more water in the car and make it smell even more of wet goat.

Thankfully he always had a towel or two in the boot so Eskel could pat her mildly dry but the puddle hadn't been simple mud and water, only heightening the stench. Thinking about his poor tub, Eskel knew he wouldn't be able to give Bleats a bath. The one time he had tried, he'd needed to buy a new shower curtain and invest in some repairs to the tub. Little goat hooves were not compatible with his bathroom. Stashing her in her travel crate, Eskel pulled his phone out and searched for possible solutions. The most sensible was a pet groomer, alas the three numbers he tried all refused to deal with a goat. Some days Eskel cursed himself for not having a more traditional pet.

"You trying to get a groomer?" Cahir sidled up to him, eyes glinting with the promise of mischief.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone wants to bathe a goat." Not that Eskel was bitter. He didn't expect Cahir to laugh.

"You just haven't asked the right one. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone who'll help. Just follow my bike."

It was easier said than done. While Eskel had heard stories from Lambert about the strange love affair Cahir had with his bike, it was a whole different thing to see it. Having witnessed it, Eskel had to wonder whether there were four in that relationship rather than three as he'd originally thought.

Hair of the Dog looked like a bit of a shithole if Eskel was honest. It was out in a small industrial park near a village, wooden cladding faded and looking in desperate need of a paint. Helmet under his arm, Cahir barged in without a care for the sign that declared the place closed.

"Scales!" He hollered, impatiently holding the door open for Eskel. "Got you a client."

Not quite knowing what to expect, Eskel's eyes widened when a man larger than him appeared, scowling at Cahir.

"What did I tell you about my opening hours? And fucking hell what is that stench?"

Cahir leaned against the wall with a shit eating grin and gestured towards Eskel and Lil Bleater knowingly.

"That's a goat." It was possibly the dumbest thing anyone could have said.

"No, I'm a human called Eskel," Eskel shot back, a little irked.

The laugh was warm and genuine as the owner of the grooming parlour caught on. "Letho. Who's your stinky companion?"

Somehow Eskel found himself charmed by the fact Letho didn't baulk at the fact he was being presented with a goat. He even invited Eskel to stay and watch the whole process of washing and drying his pet. What struck Eskel was how gentle he was through it all, talking to Bleats as much as he talked to Eskel.

"Wouldn't have clocked you as a dog groomer," Eskel admitted while Lil Bleater was enjoying her second rinse.

"Didn't peg you as a goat owner."

"Touche. You like dogs?" Which was a ridiculous thing to ask, given that Letho's work involved a lot of dogs and possibly a few cats. However, Letho shook his head.

"They're alright. But I wouldn't own one."

"Cats?"

"Guess again."

Eskel squinted at Letho. "I can't really say I can picture you with a parrot."

Another laugh and Eskel found himself quite fond of the raw honesty in it. He waited patiently for an answer though.

"Tell you what-" Letho suggested, "-let me finish up with my last client and then I can show you, if you're interested. It's a snake."

"I only inspect trouser snakes on third date," Eskel said, peering around. "If I had known you'd had other clients, I would have happily waited."

The spray of water was playfully turned on him, barely missing him. "It's you, you numpty. I'm closed on Tuesdays, that's admin day." A soft flush spread across Eskel's cheeks at that and Letho continued, "If I put Gully down my trousers, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. And I don't think she'd fit. She's a reticulated python."

"As long as she doesn't eat Bleats, I think we're good." Eskel had no idea about snakes but, given the size of Letho, he could imagine him with a large snake, no pun intended.

In the silence that fell on them, Eskel looked around again with a frown. "Did Cahir go?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, quite thrilled at the prospect of having a fluffy goat stepping out of the dryer soon, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.

"You owe me a drink. Maybe two. We told you you'll like him."

Groaning, Letho threw the note away but not before Eskel saw.

"That sounded ominous."

"The Three Fucketeers have been trying to set me up for a while. I resisted. Guess they win."

Grinning, Eskel shrugged. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.ion out no matter how hidden. Which led Eskel to the conclusion that if he couldn't beat them, they could join them. It was very unlikely they'd want graphic details so, with great confidence, Eskel met Letho's rather large snake. And he met Gully too.

#lethskel #letho/eskel #minor cahir/aiden/lambert #eskel #letho of gulet #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #tldr: letho the dog groomer meets lil bleater

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dearcat1 · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I absolutely adore Xanxu's parenting adventures, but I could only find 8 & 9. Is there a tag I can check out for the others? Sorry for the bother, super excited to read it! Thank you for writing it!

Screw it hahaha that tag is not working no matter what I do about it. I'm just going to post everything that's already published here. So: sorry about the long post.

And for anybody who's interested in reading it, I'm putting the next ones under "parenting adventures au". That should be a better tag.

I hope you like it! I meant for it to be cute.

[Xanxus’s terrible bad day]

Part 1 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

Xanxus does not, in any way shape or form, appreciate mad scientists. He spits out the blood, cleaning up the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. The other hand keeping a tight grip on his remaining x-gun. Irritated, he just keeps glaring at the toddler whimpering in front of him.

Seriously?

What the fuck!

How is this even his life, Xanxus doesn't know but he demands a fucking raise. And all the goddam alcohol. All of it. Every single fucking drop.

This is ridiculous. The enemy is dead and even Xanxus feels a little uncomfortable with the amount of blood and dead bodies surrounding a two-year-old. Or what looks like a two-year-old, in Xanxus rather uninformed opinion.

Brat picks himself up, eyes still watery and then… oh no, oh no, no, no. He makes grabby hands at Xanxus. Xanxus sneers, uncomfortable but the newly miniaturized Sawada just pouts stubbornly, stumbling on wet sticky blood as he tries to make his way to the older Sky.

Xanxus's reaction is pure instinct. He lunges forward, grabs the kid by the back of his overly large hoodie and pulls him up. Brat settles on Xanxus's hip, tiny face hidden against Xanxus's shoulder and the Wrath stands there, feeling more than a little awkward.

Alright, then, he thinks. Fuck it. So an armful of mini-mini-Sawada in one arm, a gun in the other hand. Base full of dead people who are either already dead or soon to be. Because Xanxus is through like that.

Clearing his throat, Xanxus hoists the brat up a little more and stalks out of the room. Cleaning up the base is easy enough, finding Byakuran's little note on the desk should be more of a surprise than it is.

"Have fun on your vacation! You can bond now ~ :3"

Right, Xanxus needs a raise, all the alcohol, and a marshmallow enthusiast killing season.

[Cabin by the sea]

Part 2 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Finding the little cabin by the sea is easy enough with the handy map the marshmallow freak left for them. Mini-mini-Sawada is a surprisingly obedient toddler so Xanxus is still uncomfortable but at least he isn't deaf from crying fits.

The only time the brat had cried, it had been silent sad tears that managed to make Xanxus feel like an ass when the brat confessed to being hungry.

Note to self: brats need food.

So Xanxus had settled in in the little cabin, laid the brat down on the smaller bed for the night and thrown himself to his own bed, intent on waiting this shit out.

Except that he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by a toddler sneaking into his bed and now Xanxus can't sleep because mini-mini-Sawada is tiny. As in smaller than Xanxus's chest tiny and Xanxus is not a good man, he's not a kind man.

But there's a toddler sleeping on his chest, all trust and far too delicate limbs and Xanxus finds himself terrified of falling asleep because what if when he does, he moves and crushes the little brat under him? Then the brat would suffocate and die.

And yes, Xanxus could, potentially, just pick up the brat and return him to his own bed. But what if he doesn't wake up the next time the brat sneaks in? Because if Xanxus has learned something these last couple of days is that mini-mini-Sawada might be mellow but he also has a stubborn bone that won't be reasoned with.

In the end, Xanxus ends up staying awake all night, staring at the ceiling with a hand keeping the toddler in place, just in case he rolls over and falls to his death or something. He waits until the hour changes from absolutely ridiculous to marginally decent to leave the bed.

Doing stuff with a toddler on his arm is easier now that he has practice, his morning routine is no different. It's just when he reaches the point of taking a shower that he finds himself at a loss. They stink, they need to wash. Xanxus has no idea how to clean a brat and he's pretty sure that toddlers don't wash themselves.

Xanxus looks longingly at his phone and snarls, ignoring mini-Tsunayoshi stirring in his arm. "Fucking dimension without YouTube. What the fuck."

[Watery warfare]

Part 3 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Xanxus decides on the bathtub for practicality. It seems like a bath would be easier to handle with a toddler than a shower. Especially a sleepy, clingy toddler. Except that the second Xanxus set the brat down, brat went absolutely fucking insane.

Watching bemusedly as the brat slaps the water around, Xanxus ignores the mess it's making on the floor and chuckles. "Yeah? Show it who's the boss, shitty brat."

Tsunayoshi just screams louder, cackling like a maniac.

"Yeah, yeah." Shrugging, Xanxus sits down on the tub, ready to wash himself. He'll clean up mini-mini-Sawada after.

Mini-mini-Sawada has other ideas, however. As soon as Xanxus settles down, the toddler reaches for him and Xanxus helps him sit beside him, lest he falls down and drowns. "What? I thought you were in the middle of a war, trash. Can't just abandon that, you know?"

The toddler just sticks his fingers in the shampoo Xanxus has just poured into his hand.

"No, that's not for you." Xanxus rolls his eyes, scrubbing his hair and ignoring mini-Tsunayoshi watching him curiously. Ok, so maybe Xanxus might be developing a bit of a soft spot for the toddler. Maybe. It's just… the brat's flames might still be dormant at this age but that doesn't change the fact that whatever is still there… it resonates with Xanxus.

And that's a relief. It is, because it means that Xanxus might not be Timoteo's but he's still Vongola enough for this. Besides, the resonance helped Xanxus get over his initial 'ew, baby' aversion and is probably the reason the brat was so quick to trust Xanxus.

He wonders if it'll translate to the grown Sawada, once he returns.

There's just something about mini-mini-Sawada, so small, so breakable and so trusting, that makes Xanxus feel a little protective.

[Shopping trip]

Part 4 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

It takes Xanxus about a week to concede that this won't be a quick matter. Which means that they need clothes. Xanxus could, in theory, keep washing his uniform daily and it wouldn't be a problem. Except he's fucking tired of doing laundry and the brat can't keep wearing the same oversized hoodie for days on end.

He turns to look at mini-mini-Sawada, who is curled up in Bester's flank, fast asleep, and sighs. It seems they're going shopping.

Which is easier said than done. Unearthing the wad of cash and credit card the marshmallow freak left behind is easy enough, taking mini-mini-Sawada is easy as well. As long as Xanxus doesn't put him down, they're alright.

No, the issue comes from the clerk who is watching Xanxus like he's wondering whether he should seek the police on him for kidnapping. But Xanxus is still a Sky, no matter that he doesn't do the polite charming shit that Tsunayoshi and Cavallone are so fond of.

"We had a little accident," Xanxus shrugs, gruff. "He needs clothes."

Still, the clerk seems unsure until mini-mini-Sawada straightens in Xanxus's hold to point at something in the store. "Ansus! Beste! Look, Beste!"

Bester, Xanxus knows, is back in his box but he turns to look all the same. He takes a good look at the white cat plushie and laughs. "Yeah, that's Bester alright."

Ignoring the now bemused clerk, Xanxus makes his way to that rack and offers Mini-Tsunayoshi the plushie. The toddler grabs it instantly, cuddling it to his chest and Xanxus snorts, catching a look at bath toys down the ail. Well, fuck it. They're spending Byakuran's money anyway, might as well treat themselves.

"Come on, you need ammunition for your next bath."

It is entirely possible that Xanxus got a little shopping happy but he gives about zero shits, the tiny shirt with a printed 'Mini-Boss' on it is Xanxus's absolute favourite.

He buys his own clothes quickly and makes a bee-line for the cabin, mini-mini-Sawada cheerfully waving goodbye to the shopping mall.

[Nap]

Part 5 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

What the fuck, Xanxus thinks, bemusedly. It should have been fine. The weather had been nice and the cabin has a nice piece of beach right there so Xanxus had taken the brat out and yes, maybe, Xanxus took advantage of the nice weather to take a nice nap.

But it should have been fine, Bester had been napping with the brat. Covered by the shade. And the brat never wanders off anyway. Bester would have woken Xanxus up if something had happened or handled it himself.

And yet, here they are.

Xanxus wakes up to find Tsunayoshi sitting next to a hole, definitely of Bester’s making and lapping the water from it?

He has questions, Xanxus has so many questions.

First, how did they get water inside the hole? Where does this water come from? Also, why? Bester looks too damn proud of himself, Xanxus adores him but right now, he’s not sure he trusts the liger. Tsunayoshi laps the water again, makes a disgusted face and repeats. “What the fuck?”

Laughing helplessly, Xanxus stands up, patting the sand off of his clothes. “What are you doing, you little shit?” He picks mini-Tsunayoshi up, settling him on his hip.

The brat tries to reach for Bester, “juice?”

“No,” Xanxus chortles, gesturing for Bester to follow. “That’s not juice, trash. That’s seawater at best. What the fuck.”

“Fuck!”

“Shit,” Xanxus picks up their stuff with their other hand and makes his way back inside the cabin to hunt down some juice. “Your parents are going to lose their shit over that, aren’t they?” Toddlers usually don’t use curse words, he knows that much. Then, he remembers that the father in question is fucking Iemitsu and shrugs it off.

[Tuna-fishy]

Part 6 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

They get returned to their original universe about 4 months in, to them at least. It looks like they’ve been gone for barely a week on their own. Xanxus doesn’t care about that, he’s more concentrated on the strained little smile Byakuran is sending to mini-mini-Sawada.

“What!?” Xanxus snaps, ignoring the toddler’s face hidden against his neck. Brat is shy, that’s all.

“Aaah, yes,” Byakuran shifts uncomfortably, sending a bemused look Xanxus’s way before looking back down to Sawada. “That wasn’t part of the plan?”

“Are you fucking asking?” Xanxus ignores mini-mini-Sawada trying to share his crumpled snack and twitches, debating the virtues of calling Bester or seeking his elements on this moron.

Iemitsu, apparently, decides that’s his moment to shine. Bastard has been starry-eyed since the second he caught sight of the toddler in Xanxus’s arms. And no, Xanxus is, in no way, shape or form, annoyed by this. The consigliere steps forward, big goofy smile on his face, “Tuna-fishy! Come to papa!”

And mini-Tsunayoshi loses his shit, loses it completely. As in loud screams and tears and a grip hard enough on Xanxus’s shirt that the Wrath wonders for a second whether he’ll rip it. Xanxus reacts on instinct because he’s been looking after this tiny brat for months now.

He shifts his weight to put distance between his toddler and the idiotic blonde and points his gun directly between the asshole’s eyes. His elements react with him, of course, and Xanxus finds himself bracketed between Squalo and Lussuria, all traces of humour lost.

“What the fuck, trash?” The question is met with silence but all of them saw the way the toddler’s mostly dormant flames recoiled from the man.

Byakuran steps forward, hands up in placation. “Now, now, no need for this.” He lays a restraining hand on Sawada’s shoulder, “I do believe it might be sweet Tsuna’s nap time?”

Xanxus takes the out, pivoting from his spot but not holstering his gun until he makes it all the way to the car. The brat is still making his best impression of a limpet and Xanxus sighs, cleaning some of the tears off the kid’s face.

“Fuck, Ansus,” the brat mutters sadly into the fabric of his plushie.

“Yeah, yeah, what the fuck.”

Somewhere in the background, Lussuria coos.

[Apple Slices]

Part 7 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures.

Xanxus wakes up with a tiny brat nestled on his stomach and Bester stretched out by his side. Right. He starts the morning routine without thinking much about it before he remembers that they’re not in the little cabin by the beach anymore.

And by remembers, he means he gets forcibly reminded by Squalo breaking down his door with a “voi! Wake up, shitty boss!” Lusurria trailing happily after the swordsman with breakfast in hand.

“You trash!” Xanxus growls quietly, “if you wake up the little brat, you’re dealing with the pouting!”

Luckily for all of them, the toddler has migrated to Bester’s flank while Xanxus went around preparing the things needed for the bad and is now busy sleeping away, face buried in his plushie.

“And get more napkins,” at Lussuria's odd look he adds, "brat's a messy eater."

Though now it seems like they'll be eating before bathing which is actually more practical. Why hadn't he thought of that? Doesn't really matter, this is how they will do things now. He picks up his own plate and eats quietly, ignoring Squalo's attempts to get Xanxus to do paperwork with the ease of long practice. Only once he's done he goes to pick mini-Tsunayoshi up, settling the sleepy toddler on his lap.

Tsunayoshi is more asleep than awake but he’s docile enough. “Juice?”

Xanxus’s mouth twitches up, “yeah, sure.”

Lussuria squeals, offering him a glass and Xanxus just knows, with one look, that shit is going to get messy. He accepts the apple slice being shoved into his mouth and says nothing. Luss can deal with this shit. "It's good," Xanxus approves, giving the brat another.

Mini-Mini-Sawada bites half of it off and then promptly falls asleep, slumping bonelessly to the side. Xanxus catches him before he can fall off, caught between incredulity and laughter. "The fuck?"

(Juice)

Part 8 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

Xanxus stalks into his office with mini-mini-Sawada on his hip. The Varia as a whole are smart enough to know that if he has one arm tied up in keeping the toddler in place, it means he still has one hand free to shoot them dead. “You trash,” he growls at the closest grunt, “bring me my wine!”

“Juice!” Mini-mini-Sawada adds, waving happily.

“And juice,” Xanxus adds, patting mini-mini-Sawada’s head agreeably. He lets the brat down on the floor inside his office, eyeing the paperwork. Fuck that thing, honestly.

By mini-mini-Sawada’s side, Bester chuffs gently, picking the toddler up by the back of his shirt and settling him between his paws. Mini-Tsunayoshi turns to hug the liger as best he can, happily waving his stuffed toy around and babbling up whatever comes through his head.

Toys, Xanxus decides, they're going to need those. Is two years old too young for a toy gun? Hmm… Well now he has google, doesn't he? Oh look, Timoteo's weekly ridiculous requests. He picks them up with a snort, fishing for some pencils in the drawer. "Here," Xanxus offers them to his brat, "this is your portion."

Mini-Mini-Sawada has taken to imitating everything Xanxus does. If Xanxus indulges him, it's simply because it makes things easier and no other reason whatsoever. He ignores the happy little squeal, smirking at his paperwork. When Squalo comes to pick up their finished piles, he makes a face at the brat's handiwork.

Xanxus glares, absent-mindedly cleaning the toddler's face after their snack.

Squalo just huffs, irritably pushing his hair out of his face. "Voi, FINE! Don't complain to me if they bitch!"

"Fuck that trash," Xanxus doesn't care about what they want.

"Trash!" His toddler smashes his juice box in agreement. Xanxus lips twitch. Ok, so he's a little fond.

(Strategy)

Part 9 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Timoteo knows something is going on the moment that the door opens for the Varia's scheduled paperwork drop and it's not only Squalo coming through it but also Mammon and Lussuria. He has half of the Varia in his office when it usually takes months of cajoling to get so much as one other than Squalo. And even then, for this very same dropoff.

But the Varia are a lot like cats, there's no use in pushing them too much. You have to dangle the bribe and wait for them to come to you. So Timoteo doesn't show hesitation, he simply settles in to give their paperwork a quick check. There's never any blood but he does get a kick out of seeing the progressively more ridiculous fake signatures over the line with his son's name.

This time, it's a toddler’s handprint in ink so strong that some of the text is no longer legible. Timoteo blinks once, twice and then looks up at the gleeful faces of the Varia Officers. "What is this?"

"The mini-boss," Mammon begins, smug and greedy, "is living up to his name,"

Oh, Timoteo realizes, thumbing through the paperwork with new eyes and finding the sort of drawings he hasn't seen in over a decade. Iemitsu had been over yesterday, Timoteo had listened to his ramblings with half an ear but now it's starting to make sense. It hadn't been Iemitsu's usual delusions, Tsunayoshi really is a toddler now. Carefully, Timoteo picks the drawings from the rest of the papers. "Name your price."

Squalo smirks, "vacation. One week, full expenses covered, anywhere we want."

"Done," Timoteo stretches his hand, waiting patiently while Squalo looks inside his bag and comes up with a little plate. Tsunayoshi's small palm is etched on it, colourful kid's drawing decorating the outer sides, under it, in Xanxus's elegant writing, it's Tsunayoshi's name in perfect japanese.

"It's perfect."

"Whatever," Squalo snorts. "Voi, nice doing business with you." Squalo turns on his heel and walks out the door, his two tag-alongs following behind him.

#fanfiction #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #xanxus #sawada tsunayoshi #ask #anon #parenting adventures au

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Note

hey, can i request where uncle!jj, dad!rafe, y/n, and rafe’s and y/n’s baby spend the whole day at the beach☺️

Dad!Rafe Cameron {Beach Blurb}

Words: 1.3k+

Type: Fluff

Warnings: DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Y/D/N - Your daughter’s name

Today is the day. The day that your daughter has been anticipating and asking you about for weeks.

Beach Day.

You and Rafe have been planning to go back to the island for a few days, maybe staying over at a friend’s house. It took some time to plan and talk to your friends, but...

And you’re finally here!

Your friend was kind enough to give you two rooms, one for only your daughter and another for both you and Rafe, “for some privacy” as she said (she winked after saying that).

That means one big thing for Y/D/N... it’s not just a single beach day, but 6 or 7 beach days! Which will, honestly, only consist in hanging out with your rather large group of friends while Y/D/N has fun in the sand or the water.

The morning starts off as planned. Everyone woke up at around 9 to go have breakfast at Kie’s parents’ restaurant and then go there, to the beach.

During the whole meal, Y/D/N kept on repeating the word “beach” whenever anyone with a bathing suit and surfboard would stare at her, which means: a lot. But Rafe was able to calm her down a bit once he was done with his meal by bringing her to his lap, just so she could have his attention.

Once done with the meal and paying, you and Rafe followed everyone down the wooden path to the beach as he held Y/D/N at his hip.

Your friends look over their shoulders once they hear the small girl gasping loudly at the sound of the waves and at the sight of the white sand.

Rafe smiles at the sound of his little girl’s excitement, as you stare at your brother, who looks like does, indeed, need help with the bags and umbrellas.

“Y/N, do you want to stay under the umbrella?” JJ asks as all of you try to find the perfect spot to lay.

“Yes, please” You answer back.

Once finding the perfect little spot, by some rocks and trees, the group got divided. Some of the people ran towards the water, while others, like you, helped out with the towels and the umbrellas.

Rafe, on the other hand, doesn’t fit in either of the groups. He is not swimming nor helping. Why? Because he has to look after Y/D/N, of course.

One thing you’ve caught on when becoming a mother was that everything (physical) that you don’t do, can be excused by the fact that you need to look after the baby.

Rafe surely as caught onto that. He uses it for everything. From washing the dishes to making the bed, he’s a whole babysitter.

The bastard.

You were the one to do it first, yes, but you were also the one with a big ass pregnant belly a year ago. Rafe is just doing the carrying after birth to get it even, you know? At least, that’s what he says.

You look down at them and Y/D/N giggles as she grabs full fists of sand before letting it fly through the wind.

Once making sure that she was having fun, you look back at your brother and decide to go help him with his stuff.

Rafe is left alone with the girl as she looks at him silently.

Without saying a word, she grasps the bottom of her t-shirt and tugs it up, motioning that she wants to get off her clothes to only wear her bathing suit.

He helps her take her shirt off, as well as her little pink shorts and her small sandals, before folding everything and putting it inside your bag.

“Water” She mumbles at her dad, pointing at the waves.

“Want to go swimming?” He asks her and she nods quickly, a smile widening on her face.

“Okay, let’s go”

Rafe gets up and tells the little girl to not run off on him, and she does as told and holds herself steady in the uneven ground by grabbing onto his leg. He takes his shirt off quickly and picks her back up.

“Rafe, please put sunscreen on Y/D/N before going to the water! I forgot to put it at home” You yell from under your brother’s umbrella.

Rafe looks over at you and nods.

“Looks like we’re going to go swimming yet” Rafe mumbles to the small girl, who completely ignored him.

(...)

It’s been some time, the beach got busier by lunch time and Y/D/N was still extremely energetic.

You are sitting on your towel, not caring enough to go into the water just yet. Book on your lap as you read some quick messages on your phone, most of them from your friends from home.

Out of nowhere something really cold lays on your back, making you hiss at the temperature, and two very cold wet arms wrap themselves around your very dry and very warm body.

“Rafe, I swear to God himself” You whisper to him.

Rafe chuckles and hugs you closer to him, making chills run through your body under the warm sun.

“Where’s Y/D/N?” You ask him when noticing the silence you’re grown unfamiliar with.

“With Top and JJ” He answers, kissing your shoulder.

You throw your, almost, overheating phone back into your bag and Rafe unwraps his arms from around you to sit down on your towel. You turn almost completely around to look at Rafe, while still trying to have your daughter on the corner of your eye.

“Don’t you have your own towel, sir?” You ask, playfully.

“Too far” He answers, leaning in closer to check something on your bag, and you chuckle at him.

“It’s right next to us” You say, laying your hand over his towel.

“Like, I said: too far” He repeats, pecking your lips quickly.

You roll your eyes at him and look around the beach. It looks like most of the people around you are mostly kooks, but there’s some small groups of pogues scattered around, probably enjoying their last days at the beach before restarting high school.

Rafe, for looks of it, is still a very familiar face to everyone. It’s been sometime since he moved out of here to live with you, but he’s still known as the Kook prince, the rude ass dude that hated pogues and... other not so nice things.

Just imagine their surprise when they see him holding a baby. They were shocked.

You, thankfully, didn’t notice, since you were reading, but when he was with Top and Y/D/N at the water, people did send him glares and stared at the two of them. Something you have grown to hate ever since you started dating him.

“What are you thinking about?” Rafe asks you and you look up from the sand at him.

“Nothing” You say with a smile, “Just something random”

He didn’t push it, he just nodded and leaned in to kiss your shoulder again.

His wet hair lays messily at the top of his head as he looks up to watch Y/D/N, grasping into Top’s hand as she drank water from JJ’s water bottle.

Once finished, the girl leans back so that JJ could pull away the bottle and exhales loudly to signalize how good that water ‘tasted’.

The boys chuckle at her and she smiles at them before letting go of Topper’s hand to walk over to JJ’s lap.

Rafe smiles a bit at that and you follow his gaze when noticing his sudden smile.

JJ, after making sure that almost anyone is paying attention to him, starts a conversation with the one year old, almost as if she knows whatever he’s talking about. You chuckle at him silently, just enough for him to not notice.

“That’s, like, the story of the island, you know? So,” He pauses, “Are you kook or a pogue?”

Both you and Rafe laugh loudly at his question and he looks over his shoulder at you quickly.

“Don’t laugh, I’m asking the real questions!”

- - - - - - - -

I’m sorry that this isn’t that good. I did this in random spare minutes I had between classes and corrected this (now) during my English class.

#rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks #netflix outer banks #rafe outer banks

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paperpocalypse · 4 years

Text

red.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 20. Washing their back/hair in the shower.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,662 words

Warning: Implied/referenced murder

[A/N: No shower, just sticking Five’s head underneath a sink faucet. Also Villain!AU :)]

It really was too bad.

You had liked Elliott – honestly, you did, and you don’t like a lot of people. Sure, he was ridiculously paranoid, and his Jell-O molds boasted flavors that could alter the timeline all by themselves. But he had been a nice man, a harmless man, and you don’t like killing nice, harmless men unless you have to. Personally, anyway.

If only he had been cooperative for a few more hours …!

“What a shame,” you murmur, tucking the last corner of the blanket underneath his head. At least taking a bullet to the heart was almost as quick as being incinerated by a nuclear missile. Somewhat. In any case, you think to yourself as you stand up, he’s as good as gone; Diego and Luther will probably want to bury him once they get back. Societal convention, and all that.

“Anybody still here?”

(Speak of the devils and they will appear –)

“In here,” you call out, smoothing out your clothes and hurrying into the kitchen before the two brothers – mainly Diego – can make their own conclusions about the living room. As expected, they greet you with suspicious frowns as you come to a stop in front of them.

“What’s going on?” Diego demands.

“Hello to you, too,” you reply lightly. The man only narrows his eyes, and you scratch the back of your head, absently wondering if he does, in fact, like you enough not to turn you into a knife block. “So … things got a bit out of hand with Elliott while you guys were out.”

“What do you mean?” Luther asks.

You shrug. “I had no choice.”

“No choice?”

Diego’s jaw clenches, and he pushes past you towards the living room. “What did you do to him?”

“What he would’ve done to me if I hadn’t shot him first,” you reply evenly. You linger on the boundary between the kitchen and the living room, staying a respectful distance away as they stare down at the covered body. “If it makes it any better, it was quick. I didn’t torture him or anything like that. Not that I know how to.”

“Lucky for him,” Diego retorts. Nevertheless, his expression is calmer that you thought it’d be, and it puts you less on edge. It’s obvious that he’s still upset about it, however. “At least he didn’t suffer too much.”

“Yeah. He didn’t have much time left, anyway.”

The two brothers nod reluctantly, glancing at each other and then down at the body. You cross your arms, fingers brushing the hand-sized weapon just above your hip as Diego turns and bumps past you towards the door again. Probably to find a shovel. Luther, the big old softie, lifts Elliott from the red-leather sofa where you had wrapped him up.

He moves toward the front door as well but stops in front of you, uncertain. “You wanna …?” he starts, motioning the body towards you slightly.

You shake your head. “You two should do it. I already did my part.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I know you got along with him pretty well, and –”

You cut his rambling off with a pat to the back, ushering him along – if you look at the Elliott-shaped cargo in his arms any longer, you might actually start feeling guilty. “I’m one hundred percent positive. Just hurry up, yeah?”

He blinks down at you, then nods. “Okay. Just – come down if you change your mind.”

“Sure thing.”

With that, the hulk of a man wanders away with Elliott, and you walk over to the now vacant couch. Sitting down, you press your palms down into the leather. Is it still slightly warm? You resist the thought of standing back up and lean into the backrest instead. Jesus, you’re getting soft. He was expendable. There’s a thousand more Elliotts out there in a thousand more timelines, anyway.

Inhaling deeply, you take your pistol out. The barrel has, of course, cooled down by now, and you inspect it with careful fingers. But before you can take aim at one of the UFOs tacked onto the far wall, you hear a sound downstairs.

“Five?”

His footsteps are nimbler than usual as he climbs up the stairs. You put the pistol down and push yourself out of your seat, blinking in surprise as the teenage, bloodstained face of your partner comes into view. Everything about him is bloodstained, actually.

Save for the black suitcase gripped like a lifeline in his hand.

“So that’s where you disappeared to?” you exclaim, immediately taking the suitcase from Five and placing it on the coffee table as you shepherd him to the bathroom. “A killing spree without me? I had to settle for the conspiracy man.”

“You did it already?”

“It was in self-defense.”

Five scoffs lightly, shedding his jacket and leaving it on a chair as the two of you walk through the kitchen. “I’m sure it was.”

“It’s true! I mean –” pushing the bathroom door open, you consider, “fine, I got a little stir crazy while everyone was gone. But I didn’t think he’d pull the rifle on me.” You turn on the sink and feel the water run through your fingers, cold and then warm. Perfect. “But enough about me. Whose blood did you bathe in?”

Five loosens his tie. “The board’s,” he tells you.

He keeps his expression professional, but there’s no mistaking the pride just begging to surface in his tone. You raise an eyebrow and hum, tugging him closer to the sink by his tie.

“Impressive. But there’s more, isn’t there?” you guess, trying not to sound like an eager child. Your eyes rove over his profile. “Here, let me wash your hair. It’s getting crusty.”

He rolls his eyes but leans over the sink nevertheless, grunting a bit when you push his head underneath the faucet. Pink water streams down onto the white porcelain and into the drain. As you lather up a bar of soap and begin scrubbing his hair, he speaks, his voice somewhat muffled by the lip of the sink. “I offed the Handler, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A grin spreads across your face. You rinse the last of the bubbles from Five’s hair. “It was.”

“You sound happy.”

“I’m ecstatic.” Running your fingers over his hair one last time, you force your hand off to grab a towel. “Almost everything’s in place now, isn’t it?”

“All there’s left to do is reset the suitcase, have Vanya blow up something next to JFK, and then all of us can head to Commission headquarters.” Removing his head from underneath the faucet, Five holds out a hand and you place the towel in it. “Smooth sailing from there.”

“Well, I do love a good boat ride.”

He huffs out a chuckle as he finishes drying his hair, running the towel under the water again. Your heart turns soft and goopy when his eyes dart to meet yours knowingly, just for a split second, before he wrings the towel out to wipe the blood from his face.

It’s a moment you’d like to savor a little longer, but the image of the suitcase in the living room inevitably shakes you out of it.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it while I work on resetting the suitcase,” you tell him. “Shouldn’t take too long – ten minutes or so. I hope all of your siblings are back by then.”

“Highly doubt it,” you hear him mutter as you head out the door, and you don’t bother to hide a snort. Each one of the Hargreeves – Five included, even though he often acts like he’s above it – has a fondness for wreaking their own special kind of havoc on each timeline. Might as well have some fun before pulling the plug on humanity, after all. Burn your name into the book before it closes.

You slip into Elliott’s bedroom to grab a hangar, then head over to the living room. The suitcase sits innocently where you had left it; you carefully undo the latches and open the case just enough to sneak the hook in. Each one of this particular model has a sweet spot – and you could find it in your sleep. You had helped design the damn thing, after all. Not that your contributions were ever appreciated.

No, Dr. Geraldine Tynnsdale had to be a “true kindred spirit with the vision of the Commission” for the past twenty-five years.

Taking credit for everything.

After some careful prodding, you feel a satisfying click.

“There we go,” you praise the suitcase, withdrawing the hangar and popping the lid open. A sense of adoration fills your chest, replacing your feelings of malice as you stare at the familiar array of knobs and buttons. Beautiful. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Just as you thought, it takes less than ten minutes to get everything in order. The bathroom door unlocks just as you finish inputting the coordinates for headquarters, and you look up at Five (who’s now sporting a freshly cleaned uniform, at least for the visible bloodstains) with a self-satisfied smile as he approaches the sofa. Overwhelming pride for a job well done fills your bones; you had missed your projects dearly these past two weeks.

“Ready?” He tilts his head contentedly, hands in his pockets.

“Ready,” you echo, standing up. “I suppose we’ll have to round up your siblings now.”

The flat look on Five’s face makes you snort again, and you pick up the suitcase while placing your other hand in the crook of his elbow, escorting the two of you towards the back door where Luther and Diego had gone.

Soon, you think, you’ll be free. Free to do whatever you like, make whatever you like, with Five at your side and no one to answer to but yourself.

A smile graces your face as you squeeze Five’s arm. Whoever said that happy endings don’t exist for people like you?

#wordless ways to say i love you #source: @50-item-writing-prompts #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy #tua #five x reader #five imagine #tua fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #villain!tua #they jump from timeline to timeline to cause apocalypses as a family #on purpose this time lol #fun stuff :)

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balkanradfem · 3 years

Text

So I've talked before about my burning desire to go and build a separatist tribe of women in nature, preferably in forest next to a mountain or somewhere far out so that nobody would bother us. I've been keeping on building that dream in my head, but also in many practical ways, trying to prepare myself for it. This tribe would have to function out of capitalism, off grid, without the use of money or even electricity, unless one day I figure out how to produce some. So we use only technology that is not harmful to nature and produce everything we need to survive.

It sounds so surreal, but it's not a particularly wild idea, because humans have been doing this for millenia and lived, I presume, with way less of their population depressed and suicidal. It wasn't more than 80 years ago humans lived without electrity or modern commodities, my 85yo neighbour can still remember bathing in collected rainwater and washing the clothes in the river. (Don't worry, we wont have to wash the clothes in the river, I found a way.)

So what I'm proposing is in fact, far more reasonable, climate conscious and healthy than living in capitalism, only problem is: It's less convenient.

We're to assume it's convenience that brings us comfort and happiness, but I'm about to propose a counter-argument: It's not. It's boring and makes everything very impersonal and unsatisfactory. I can tell, but only because I've been shifting into that inconvenient, more-effort-put into survival kind of life. And, it's been a very fun, weird time.

So as you can see by my posts, I've been learning to grow food and to make meals from self-grown food only, and eating feels different. It's far from impersonal when you bring a handful of seeds into life, then harvest and store and eat that; you know where this food has been. You know the food's story and it's been interlaced with your own story to the point where it's no longer something you consume, you have memories with that food. It means something to you. And, it's way, WAY harder to throw it away. You do not waste what you build up from scratch.

I've also been venturing into other self-sustaining missions, like, cleaning products and preserving resources as you would in nature, figuring out hygiene without capitalism, and this is where my life got weird. If I wanna wash my hair, I go and make tea, then wash my hair in that. Funny snippet, lemon balm tea actually darkens your hair the more you use it, people in my life now legit think my hair is black, it's not! It's brown but the herb made it so dark nobody can tell. I've since found out there are also herbs that make your hair lighter, or even give it a blue-ish glow! That is way fun. Washing hair like this is a more effort than shampoo, but I feel different about it. Proud I did that, or just happy I never have to buy a shampoo maybe.

If I wanna do laundry I'll go and cut open some conkers, since I still have a bag of unprocessed ones and they work as a detergent. If I wanna clean something I use vinegar I infused with orange peel, it smells amazing. If I need to go to the bathroom I'll skip on toilet paper and use family cloth. Now what is that? I actually heard someone on youtube say that word and researched it and found out that before toilet paper, people used rectangular strips of white cloth, to clean themselves, and they were all washed so it was reusable and wasted no resources since you could cut any old cotton shirt into strips and use it. Now a lot of people react with 'ewww' but hear me out: you don't use it for number two unless you have a washing liquid to immediately throw it into (I don't), and, do you throw away any underwear that you've used just once? They get about as filthy as that and then you put them thru boil cycle in the washing machine, they take so little space inside it's forgettable, and you can use them forever. I actually only had to buy toilet paper once, this entire year. 10/10. Also, extremely comfy and soft to use. If anyone wondered.

I also cook my food in weird ways, mostly having it wrapped in towels instead on a stove top, I rarely heat any bathroom water and either use cold or I also discovered I love heating a pot of water and just spilling it over myself instead of showering, it feels so good! It's so gentle and pleasant, showers are agressive and mean in comparison, it's like they hate you and are trying to spray you away. Water gently spilling from a pot on your body loves you and wants you to be happy and experience pleasure and love.

So I'm not trying to brag too much here but I haven't visited a grocery store in two months (figured out how to buy flour directly from the company lol) and maybe visited them 7 times this year altogether, isn't that kinda wild? And yes I'm giving myself a little star for good pandemic behaviour. I earned that. I just seem to not need stuff anymore unless they're oil and flour and maybe some salt and sugar. And it wasn't ... that hard. I mean okay, poverty and general anxiety are fueling my behaviour for sure, but it feels very much like... it's not that impossible to do without stuff, if you're crazy stubborn and don't have many alternatives.

I've also been prepairing for this life in a savage hermit hoarder type of matter; I've collected jars obsessively, stored every little produce net or bag that anyone brought to my place, I collect dumb promotional newspapers to start fires with in the future, and I can make baskets out of it, I stored every plastic cup or container ever because I can grow seedlings in those, I collected all seeds in any way available to me, I don't throw away any fabric anymore bc I can sew new things, any soft and spongy textured thing is stored to make seating space on future chairs and cushions, and I value every bit of knowledge coming my way only in regard to how it could help me survive.

I haven't figured out the medicinal side of this, or the social aspect, but at this point it feels very wrong for me to be in a city, renting out an apartment, and then living half like a little savage on the side and refusing to go to the store. I should be in my little cob house dammit, and cooking in my cauldron on top of a fire. I should be bathing in rainwater and have plants on every surface of my home. I should have soil available to grow all my food. And optimally have a big swing and a tree house and an obstacle course in the forest. I wanna drink water that I discovered in a spring or collected from rain and filtered with the coal I made. I wanna know how earthen floors feel under my bare feet.

So anyways, how many of you'd wanna join a tribe where we live in cob houses and tell stories around a fire and change our hair color with tea and presumably spill water over each other because hygiene is important? Also we never shave or care abt how our faces look and we shed the light onto downfall of capitalsm because I feel like, if we all (the population) just bought flour, oil sugar and salt, a lot of things would go down super fast.

#separatism #female separatism #prepairing for separatism #self sustaining life #eco friendly #sustainable living #anti capitalism

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

I wrote this in response to a comment from the amazing @thingr2 and I figured why not share it

pairing: Geraskier (pre-slash)

summary: The origin of Geralt’s brilliantly stupid selkimore-fighting-strategy of getting swallowed by it

word count: ~1k

content warnings: mention of blood and monster guts, briefly Geralt thinks he is going to die

The first time he was swallowed was an actual accident. For a moment Geralt thought this was it, this was where the Path ended for him.

It didn't.

He thought of the terrified villagers who'd have noone to defend them if Geralt didn't make it back. He thought of his brothers and Vesemir waiting for him at the keep and of how long it would take them to realise and accept that he wouldn't be coming back. Not this winter. Never again.

He thought of Jaskier. How Geralt would never see him again. How the last thing Geralt had said to him was that Jaskier should stay back, that he would only be in the way on this hunt. He had been right, of course, but that didn't change the fact that what flashed through Geralt’s mind now was the dejected look on Jaskier's face and a wave of regret.

He fought and he bled and he made it out. Somehow, he survived and dragged himself back to Jaskier.

No matter how scared Geralt had been when the monster's jaws closed around him, plunging him into darkness, it had been nothing compared to the look of pure terror he saw on Jaskier's face now.

"Geralt!" Jaskier's voice broke and his trembling hands hovered uselessly above him, unsure where to touch, where to begin searching him for injuries underneath the guts that covered him.

"I'm fine," Geralt said, forcing his voice to soften. All he wanted to do was get a bath to scrub the guts off and then fall into bed, but Jaskier looked so afraid. Afraid for him.Geralt couldn’t just ignore him, despite how tempting a bath sounded.

"What happened?"

"Fought the selkimore." Jaskier stared at him in ingredulous silence for so long, that Geralt squirmed uncomfortably and added, "Got swallowed."

"You what?" A disbelieving laugh escaped Jaskier. It wasn't exactly joyful, but it was better than the fear that had shimmered in his eyes just moments ago. "You're mad.” Jaskier said it as if it was something to be awed about. "You got swallowed by a selkimore and took it down from the inside. You're absolutely mad, you wonderful, brilliant witcher."

There was something in the way Jaskier looked at him, almost adoringly despite the disgusting way he looked right now, that set something off inside Geralt. An uncomfortable warmth that spread through his chest into every last part of him.

If he could have blushed, he was sure Jaskier could have seen the heat rising in his cheeks. Geralf needed this to stop.

"That's just how you fight them," he lied gruffly and pushed past Jaskier to the bath that was waiting for him. "The easiest way to get to the vulnerable weak spots."

He paused. He was lying out of his arse, but actually... Well, it had worked, hadn't it?

Shaking his head to stop those foolish thoughts, he dropped his clothes to the floor uncaringly and sank down into the water.

Cleaning himself off the guts was easier said then done. He grunted as he tried and miserably failed to get all of it out of his hair.

Something dropped on his haid, a gush of water from above. He sputtered and turned to Jaskier, a stormy expression on his face.

Jaskier just shrugged, not even looking sheepish. It seemed now that he could see for himself that Geralt's body was mostly unharmed, all nervousness had fallen away and left the bard brazen and idiotic as ever.

"Just thought you could need some help," he said with a shit-eating grin that didn't quite match his tone. The tips of his fingers were still trembling.

"By dumping a whole bucket on me?" Geralt wanted to scowl at Jaskier, he really did. But how could he keep the corner of his lips from twitching up when Jaskier's eyes were lit up with mirth?

"What else was I supposed to do? Tenderly wash your hair and massage your back? While you're covered in that? No thank you." He snorted. "Try coming back from a hunt a tad bit cleaner and I'll think about it."

Geralt grunted and turned away, but the damage was already done. The mental image of Jaskier's gentle hands on his body was already seared into his mind, as was the way his eyes crinkled with laughter as he needled Geralt about the made-up witcher-startegy of letting themselves get swallowed.

By the time Geralt was finished telling him the sparse details - it wasn't as if there was much he could have seen in the dark belly of the beast and even if he had been able to see he had been to distracted by not dying to remember all the details - Jaskier was full on laughing about the absurdity of it all.

It felt nice. Almost worth it. Not quite though.

That came later, when as they lay in bed, Jaskier was scooting closer to him, letting their arms brush so many times that it couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

"I'm glad you didn't die," Jaskier whispered into the dark, a hint of concern coloring his voice and Geralt felt his usually slow heart pick up its pace.

"Wasn't in danger," he lied. "That's just how it's done."

"Well, then, I'm glad that you witchers are a mad bunch that come up with ways to fight that don't put you in danger while also making for the best stories."

Geralt stayed quiet. He didn't move towards Jaskier, but he also didn't pull away when Jaskier's hand came up to play with his hair absent-mindedly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next time he met a selkimore, he thought of Jaskier before doing anything that could get him in danger.

He thought if his concern, his laugh and his shining eyes. He thought of the way Jaskier had clasped his shoulder as a goodbye and told him to "have fun getting swallowed again. And this time I expect the full report with a the grimy details." He thought about how maybe this time he would immediately get greeted by a loud laugh when Geralt saw him again. Geralt would still be tired and exhausted and possibly hurt, but Jaskier laughing was better by far than the memory of his fear from last time.

Geralt thought of the way Lambert would take the piss out of him for doing this and Vesemir would shake his head in disapproval but take notes when Geralt would see them next and tell them about this new way he had found of dealing with selkimores.

The beast roared, unhinging it's jaws like snake ready to swallow its prey whole. Geralt sighed, brazing himself.

"Fuck it," he said and lifted his sword before he jumped right into the monster's maw.

#Geraskier #witcher #witcher fanfic #my writing #geralt #jaskier #fic

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elvish-sky · 3 years

Text

The Temptation of Regality: You’re Here

A.N: I’ve had this idea for a super long time and was so happy to be able to incorporate it into this series! It was so much fun to write, I’ve kinda been adding ideas and working on it for a while and I’m honestly very proud of it. Also- I know I’m absolutely terrible at titles and I’m really trying but it’s just very hard so please don’t hate me for them. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,654

Pairings: You know the drill… Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Injury, alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

You’re Here

You plodded through the trees, only able to summon enough energy to put one foot in front of the other. Thorin was in front of you, and Fili just behind- they wanted to make sure that if you did collapse, someone would catch you. You could feel the growing unease at the slow pace you were setting, and tried to speed up. Instead of complying, your leg gave out and you crumpled to the ground with a groan.

None of this would have been an issue if it wasn’t for the orcs. That morning, several days after departing from Rivendell, you had been foraging for breakfast in a lovely quiet green meadow, when an arrow came whistling through the trees and lodged itself in your leg. Crying out in pain, you had fallen to the ground, helplessly watching as a warg with an orc rider sprung from its perch of a boulder, clearly intent on finishing you off. The orc scrambled down from its seat, drawing a filthy sword with a grin on its face. Drawn by the sound of your cry, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit burst out of the trees, Kili killing the orc with a well-placed arrow (a shot that you couldn’t help but admire, despite your injured state), as Dwalin clashed with the warg, dispatching it with a blow to the neck that sent it right onto the point of Thorin’s sword. Once that had all been dealt with, they sprinted to where the rest of the Company was gathered around you, watching as Oin removed the arrow from your leg and bound the wound.

Given the fact that, as a human, you were larger than everyone else in the group, it would have been very difficult to carry you. Instead, you stubbornly insisted that you were “fine, thank you very much!” and staggered along the path. You had done okay most of the day, only having to stop more often than usual because the blood loss had made you weak. Every time Thorin had called “halt,” you had collapsed to the ground but had managed to rise one it was time to get moving again. At least, every time until now.

“Y/N,” Kili cautioned, “this does not look good.”

“I can tell that, thank you,” you snapped back at him, your pain causing the rudeness. Oin made his way up the line to talk to Thorin.

After a short, whispered conversation, Thorin pronounced “There is a small town just a little bit further ahead. I had planned on bypassing it completely, but Oin says that Y/N will heal much faster if she rests well tonight. We will sleep there tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.”

This was met with sighs of relief from the rest of the company, as everyone had been longing to sleep in a warm bed.

“Y/N, do you think you can make it just a bit further on that leg?” Dori inquired with a concerned look on his face.

“Of course I can.” You proceeded to haul yourself up by Fili’s coat, but once you tried to put weight on the wounded leg it gave out. Again.

“Thorin, I’m so sorry,” you stated apologetically, “I can’t walk. Just leave me here and continue the quest without me.”

“Nonsense, lass!” exclaimed Dwalin, and he, Fili, and Bofur proceeded to pick you up and put you on the makeshift litter they sometimes used for Bilbo or Bombur. Surprised at how comfortable it was even with your wound, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

Waking at the noise once you had reached the town, you gestured to Dwalin, Fili, and Bofur to put the litter down and you attempted to place weight on your leg once again. Refreshed from your nap, it didn’t give out beneath you although it was still painful.

“Where are Thorin, Bilbo, and Gloin?” you asked, noting their absence from the group gathered around you.

“Inside, getting rooms,” answered Nori.

While waiting for their return, you gazed at your surroundings. It looked to be a small village, about the size of Bree. The buildings were worn with age, scratches and dents highlighted by the bright moon above.

This peace was quickly disturbed by the crashing sound of a door opening, and you turned to see Gloin beckoning at the company to come inside. As you did, he told everyone the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“We are in luck, lads!” he exclaimed, and then with a look at you quickly added “and lass!”

“They have several adjoining rooms available, so Bifir, Bofur, and Bombur will have one, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and myself will share another, Ori, Nori, Dori and Bilbo will have the third, and Fili, Kili, Thorin, and Y/N will share the last.”

This proclamation was met with mixed reactions, but the biggest objection came from Fili. “Y/N has to share with us!? She’s a girl, and she’s injured! Don’t they have any other open rooms?”

“I’m sorry lad,” Gloin apologized, “trust me when I say there really were no other options. Thorin threatened to separate the innkeeper’s head from his body, but they still did not have any other rooms.”

“It’s okay,” you consoled Fili, “I’ll be fine sharing, I can put up a blanket or something. Also, this way I have the three strongest warriors to protect me!” You knew that the best way to get him to calm down was through flattery, and sure enough it worked.

You limped up the stairs alongside everyone else. Gloin and Thorin opened doors as you made you way down the hallway, ushering groups of dwarves into their rooms. Finally, when you, Thorin, and the brothers had reached the end of the creaky floors, he pulled open the last door to reveal a small room. It had four beds, one was on top of another and the other two were placed side-by-side.

“They did not have any single rooms left, and I’d rather have you with us,” Thorin was looking up at you, clearly seeking your agreement. Bemused, you nodded your head in thanks. He had been much kinder to you since Rivendell, and you couldn’t quite figure out why, although you did look back on his reaction to you in that dress fondly.

“I figured we could hang a blanket around the bed on the bottom to give you some privacy,” Thorin explained.

“Good idea, Uncle!” Kili set to work, taking a blanket from his pack and tacking it up. When he finished, he stood to the side for your approval.

“Thank you, Kili, it looks great.” He beamed in satisfaction as you saw Thorin strolling over to another door you hadn’t noticed.

“The real reason we saved this room for the four of us was because…” and he opened the door to reveal a washroom.

“Everyone else has to use the communal ones!” Kili announced.

“Yes. Gloin and I paid the innkeeper a little extra to get this room,” said Thorin. You gave them each a little peck on the cheek in thanks and limped over to the washroom, intending to freshen up and maybe even bathe.

“Have a good time, Y/N,” Fili declared, and the three dwarves left you in peace.

After bathing, you examined your leg, which didn’t look as bad as you had first thought. You were relatively confident that you would be able to walk tomorrow. You dressed in your clean set of clothes, washed by the innkeeper’s wife while you bathed, and made your way downstairs for some food.

You were met with quite the sight. Thorin was hiding under a table, Nori and Bofur were singing along to the music played by Bifir and Gloin on top of said table. Dori, Ori, and Dwalin seemed to be doing some sort of dance next to the table, and Bombur had gotten hold of Nori’s coat and was searching through it for stolen goods. Bilbo seemed to be yelling at Thorin under the table, only making him cower more. Balin and Oin were seated at said table, looking highly amused by the antics.

Bemused, you made your way over to the table where Fili and Kili sat, looking, for once, well-behaved. “What on Middle-Earth is happening to everyone?” you exclaimed, “and why aren’t you two in the center of all the trouble?”

“They all got drunk,” Kili responded, “and we’ve been designated the official sober dwarves for the night.”

“Normally,” Fili added, “we’d be disappointed that we weren’t drinking. But we’re really enjoying this.”

You began to as well, watching your friends make complete fools of themselves. However, you were still a little confused about the antics.

“But why are they all acting so oddly?” you queried of the brothers.

“We haven’t had ale in a while, especially any as strong as this, and none of us are the best at holding our alcohol.” Fili returned.

“We spent a while in Rivendell, and you’re telling me none of you sampled any of their wines?” You were skeptical.

Kili looked sheepish. “Uncle forbid us. Said ‘I do not want you drinking any of the filthy elvish wines.’”

Fili nodded. “Of course, he may have put it a bit more strongly, but that’s the general gist of it.”

“Anyways,” Kili continued, “we’ve come to know what everyone in the company does when drunk, and would like to tell you. Fili, would you begin?”

“Gladly.” Fili took a big swig of water before launching in. “So, Y/N. Thorin gets rather paranoid when drunk, and I believe he currently thinks that most of the people in this room are assassins. Sadly, he is also a timid drunk and therefore will not confront them, which is probably best. Nori, Bifir, Bofur, and Gloin get very musical when drunk, and Nori also gets rather remorseful which is probably how Bombur got a hold of his coat.”

Kili picked up the explanation as Fili paused for a bite of food, “Dori, Ori, and Dwalin get rather overconfident, which explains the absolutely terrible dancing. And we’ve never seen Bilbo drunk before, but he seems to get rather angry.” With that the brothers sat back in their chairs, waiting for your reaction.

Which, sensibly, was to let your head crash onto the table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Fili was starting to look rather worried himself.

Much later, you sat at the table with the boys, watching the room descend further into madness.

“Should we round them up?” They both nodded, and with a sigh the three of you stood.

“I’ll get Balin and Oin to help, they don’t look too bad.” You gave Fili a glance of approval before making your way into the throng.

Figuring that maybe if you got the leader under control, everyone else would calm down, you crawled under the table, wincing as you felt your wound flare up with pain, to see Thorin, curled into a ball with Bilbo kneeling next to him.

“And that’s another thing!” The hobbit was pretty much yelling. “Handkerchiefs are essential to a hobbit’s daily life! In forcing me to leave mine behind you have deprived me of my well-being…” At this point you tuned him out, focusing on the king.

“Bilbo.”

“What?!” He snapped at you.

“Would you mind heading upstairs? It’s late.”

“Why should I do what you tell me? I’ve been taking orders this whole quest with no one stopping for just a second to think about what I fe-”

“I hear there may be handkerchiefs upstairs.”

“Oh,” he looked thoughtful, “alright then.” And without further ado the hobbit left.

“Thorin?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He started. “Y/N? Why are you here?” And then his face darkened. “Have you come to kill me too, like Bilbo was?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him “Unless our burglar was planning to talk you to death, I think we’re good. And no, Thorin, I’m not going to murder you.”

He looked at you, suspicion plainly written across his face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, you silly dwarf,” you shook your head at him fondly, “now let’s head upstairs.”

You grabbed his hand, only now noticing the lack of noise from the room around you. Emerging from under the table, you saw only a few people left. Balin and Oin were still sitting, this time at a different table, and Balin threw a wink at you as you appeared, dwarf in tow. Blushing, you shook your head madly at him, seeing his mouth curve up in a smile under the white beard. Rolling your eyes as he and Oin raised tankards in your direction, you began to tow Thorin up the stairs.

Reaching the landing, you staggered as he leaned on you heavily. You weren’t sure if your leg could take the extra weight, it was already throbbing, so you grabbed him by the armpit, trying to support yourself and not make him fall. You failed, and you crashed to the ground, limbs tangled with those of the king.

Your fall had been rather noisy, and Fili and Kili came bursting out of your room at the end of the hall. They started laughing once they saw your predicament, but still made their way down the hall to help. Fili grabbed his uncle and hauled him up, slinging an arm across his shoulder. They staggered back, and you laughed at the sight of the nephew helping his taller uncle. Then you thought about what it must have looked like with you trying to help Thorin, and laughed even more.

Kili helped you stand, and stood still as you leaned on him, trying to find your balance. Once you had, he started slowly walking so that your hopping leg could keep up. Fed up with this about halfway down the hall, he scooped you up and carried you the rest of the way with no trouble despite the fact that you were much taller. Reaching the doorway, he shouldered it open and deposited you in the chair you directed him to right next to Thorin’s bed.

You giggled to see the king sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed. He didn’t look very regal, but it was just such an endearing sight. Reaching over, you pulled the blanket over him, tucking it in around his shoulders. You brushed a strand of hair out of his face, starting in surprise as his eyes opened and a hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Amrâlimê (my love).” His voice was rough.

You heard twin gasps from across the room, and turned to see Fili and Kili sneaking out.

“We’ll just leave you two alone now.” Kili winked at you before shutting the door behind him.

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin’s voice was more insistent this time, and you looked at him to see his face lit up with earnesty.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled at his words. “Me too, Thorin. Me too.” You started to stroke his face, fingertips tracing the line of his beard as his eyes fluttered closed, breathing growing deeper. You smiled at him as your eyelids began to grow heavy. You fully intended to make your way over to your own bed, but, too tired to think about standing, you let your head fall onto Thorin’s chest, slumping across him as you drifted off to sleep.

Fili and Kili peered around the door to see you collapsed over their uncle, both fast asleep. Kili made to go move you to your bed, but Fili stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“Leave them be.”

Kili caught onto his brother’s plan, and stepped back. “Let’s leave these two in peace and go see if Bilbo and the Ri brothers have any spare room.”

Fili nodded, and the two quickly grabbed their bedding and packs before slipping out the door, Fili sneaking one last fond glance at the two sleeping figures before silently shutting the door.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

Series Tag: @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @moony-artnstuff @whiskeywinter89 @beakami @sassyscribbler @yes-captainstark

Thorin tag: @lathalea

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featherfur · 3 years

Text

Big Knife Meet Little Blind Ch.1

Xue Yang meets A-Qing before he meets Xiao Xingchen and decides he needs a disciple. Somehow he ends up with a kid, a heart, and an absolute mess of a cultivation world.

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Murder, Questionable Child Rearing, Xue Yang and A-Qing's potty mouth, Xue Yang isn't a good person and needs to get there, will eventually be SongXiaoXue, this is for fun and updates will be sporadic if at all so read at your own risk

The timeline's a little wonky to make it fit better. Xue Yang is 15 and A-Qing meets him at 4 around the time that Wei Wuxian dies. This is a mix of MDZS Novel and The Untamed, mostly the MDZS Novel but I'll take some liberties and cross over.

Read me on: AO3. Chapter Two

There were a lot of moments in Xue Yang’s life where he could look back on and go wow that was fucking stupid. Not that he would ever admit to that and, being fifteen, would absolutely not learn from his past mistakes. Unless it was to kill someone a little better, but that’s not the point.

The point is that Xue Yang managed to acquire a four year old child and he wasn’t thinking about how much of a responsibility that was, so much as he was wondering how long a child had to wait before they could hold a sword. The man who had helped Xue Yang cultivate a golden core a few years back had always chattered on and on about how you needed a young disciple so they’d never listen to anyone else.

That was probably good advice considering Xue Yang had killed him when he turned thirteen for being a general pain in the ass. (If anyone remembered the wild child who had flung themselves forward with a sword to kill the old man after watching him kick a child under the wheels of a cart, they were already dead or had the sense not to bring it up after watching only one person walk out of the scene alive.)

A-Qing was a quiet thing, usually. She’d managed to swindle Xue Yang out of a few coins by pleading about being blind and starving while wearing ragged clothing to sell it better, only to get caught a few minutes later when she ran directly to him to hide from whoever she’d stolen from. Xue Yang was impressed with her almost immediately and simply carried her off with the promise of dinner.

Xue Yang did not have a soft spot for abandoned kids, they weren’t his problem obviously. He did however have an incessant need to have things and he wanted a disciple. One that would be loyal to him and him only. It wasn’t like that was hard to do, people were so eager to give themselves over to someone else. Even the old man had been easy to fool into believing anything Xue Yang had said.

So there he was, fifteen, with a round-faced and probably feral four year old on his knee devouring a loaf of bread, and he finally realized that it may have been a stupid decision. He didn’t actually want to raise a child, what did one even do with a kid?

He was vaguely certain that you had to feed and water them but what else? Train them to sit and stay?

He probably should have taken his chances with someone a little older, around eight or so, so he could just hand them a sword and that would be all.

Then again, he realized with one hand moving to the back of A-Qing’s neck, he could still do that. No one had to know he grabbed the little brat and honestly a quick death was more merciful than dropping her back on the street, probably the only mercy Xue Yang had ever actually known.

White eyes blinked up at him, completely uncomprehending of the danger she was in, and then they flashed with something. She started patting herself down quickly, finding a small purse after a few seconds and pushed it towards him.

“What the hell is this?” Xue Yang grumbled, flicking it open and half expecting to find old food or bugs. Instead it was a pouch filled with money. A-Qing’s eyes were bright with the glimmering all bratty kids had when they got away with something they shouldn’t have.

“That’s why I was running.” She said pleasantly, either unaware or uncaring of any sort of moral dilemma other people would have. “Here. To pay you back.”

Her words weren’t the smoothest, and she didn’t have any idea of how to ‘pay him back’, but somehow his heart managed to soften just enough for him to move his hand from her neck. She was already prepared to steal, she had no problems faking blindness, and she seemed attached to him. He could work with this.

And, well, if he got annoyed he really could just kill her later.

“Well, Little Blind,” He hummed and pocketed the money to offer her a piece of fruit instead this time, “I think we’re going to work well together.”

Xue Yang thought everything was going well, he trained privately under a new master provided by Jin Guangyao during the day, then he returned to the little shack he had and made sure A-Qing hadn’t died while he was gone. It worked well for them and A-Qing didn’t seem to mind sitting next to the river for hours until he returned home as long as there was food to shove into her mouth.

Every day he’d come home to find her with one of her numerous sticks slapping at the water and the fish playfully. Sometimes she actually managed to trap one and they got to cook it for dinner. Other times she was so soaked with water that Xue Yang made the executive decision that it was Bath day and dropped her right back into the river to scrub both of them off and take the time to scold A-Qing for being a menace and a brat and ruining the nice things Xue Yang gave her.

The scoldings only worked for the first week and by the second A-Qing had turned the scoldings back on him, for coming home with blood on him.

Him. Xue Yang, a well known delinquent and killer, was being scolded by a four year old.

Somehow it managed to be more amusing than annoying and Xue Yang just dropped fish guts on her hair until she yowled like a cat.

For the first year it was rather peaceful and nice, not that Xue Yang would ever say it out loud, to come home to actually have someone there. Not to mention when he managed to wrangle her into half decent clothes and could take her with him into town, suddenly people were much more willing to trade things for half price. He could also release her like a dog and watch her disappear into the crowd and meet back up with her ten minutes later with a purse full of stolen money or whatever shiny ornament they’d seen and wanted.

Once he’d even brought her to his training when he knew he would be experimenting with the fierce corpses. She’d been mystified immediately, holding onto his hand as she leaned as close to the cages as she’d dared and turned to look up at him.

“Are they dead?”

“Yep,” He chirped happily, scooping her up onto his hip and moving closer. “Want to see what they can do?”

At her nod, Xue Yang called out to the corpse closest to him pulling at the resentful energy to command it. It wasn’t as easy as Wei Wuxian had it with his flute, though Xue Yang would do anything to have a chance to talk to him about it, but with the thick needles Xue Yang had shoved in their head the day before it was manageable.

Obeying his commands the corpse turned slowly towards one of the unconscious humans slumped against the wall in the back. Xue Yang walked with the corpse so A-Qing didn’t have to strain her neck, and with a flick of resentful energy demanded that the corpse rip the human open starting with the ribs.

A-Qing screamed when the corpse buried it’s fist in the human’s stomach and gripped the ribs, pulling and pulling until it tore the flesh, a dying scream echoing around the room. Her face was buried in his neck long enough that Xue Yang was starting to think maybe that gore wasn’t good enrichment for children and maybe he really should have read those books the Aunty from the dumpling shop gave him.

He didn’t want to break A-Qing, what use was she if she was broken? But how else could a kid get used to blood if it wasn’t shown to them?

Maybe, he thought with a subconscious stroke of her hair, he should have started with killing a chicken for dinner. Or maybe a cat, though A-Qing really liked cats so he’d have to pick a dog or a bird so she wouldn’t cry too much.

Then A-Qing chanced another glance, fingers still curled into the neckline of his robes, and seemed to be watching in fascination as the fierce corpse pulled out each organ and devoured them. She still shrank away when Xue Yang stepped closer to the cage but she didn’t scream again and Xue Yang knew he had this parenting thing down.

Kids were easy, you just had to feed and water them and show them some blood and they were happy.

“What do you think? Want to save the tongue for dinner?” Xue Yang teased her, cackling madly when she gave him a disgusted look.

“He didn’t wash his hands, it’s dirty, you said not to eat dirty food.” A-Qing scowled at him like she thought he was pranking her.

“Yes, yes of course, silly me.” He snickered despite himself, turning to place her down on one of the stools and approaching the cage alone. Despite A-Qing’s grumbling he still ordered the fierce corpse to rip out the tongue and bring it to him.

“I’m not eating that.” A-Qing spat when she saw him grab it with his bare hands. Xue Yang barely gave her an irritated look before he was moving towards the small fire pit and snagging a tea kettle.

Say what you want about him, Xue Yang still personally thought that Jin Guangyao was more insane than he was just for the fact that he had an entire set up for tea right next to a corpse cage.

“You’ll eat whatever I give you, brat.” Xue Yang snapped over at her before dropping the tongue into the kettle with water and set it over the pit. “Besides, this isn’t for you.”

He paused as took in the potential consequences of his actions for the first and probably last time of his life. He couldn’t stick a finger on why but he knew he didn’t want Jin Guangshan to find out about A-Qing. He’d been hiding her well, though he was sure Jin Guangyao had an idea, he didn’t want either Jin masterminds to know exactly how close Xue Yang was to her or what she looked like.

If he took the tongue tea to Jin Guangyao then he would want to see what Xue Yang was doing which would lead him right back to A-Qing. But Xue Yang really wanted to watch him drink it. Maybe instead he could ask for a few disciples to see what the effects of drinking human flesh tea vs fierce corpse flesh tea were.

The temptation tugged at him for a while before an actual tug made him look down.

A-Qing squeezed between him and the fire pit and bent down to light it with the flint and steel next to it. She had thought he wasn’t moving because he couldn’t figure out how to light the fire!

Xue Yang didn’t know if he was warmed by that or irritated that she thought he couldn’t do something so simple. Still, he just watched as she carefully set the logs on fire and nearly lost the flint into the inferno as the flames licked at her hands. They were moving faster than her little hands could get away and he knew immediately she would be burnt if he didn’t step in

He covered them with his own on instinct, ignoring the way the heat burned his knuckles and tugged her to the safety of his side instead. He could see the glistening skin on the back of his hands that were proof of his idiotic move and glared down at her. She grabbed for his hands, shrinking down when she saw the fury on his face.

“How many times have I told you not to play with fire? How stupid are you? Look what you did.” He snapped, ripping his hands away from her and staring at the bubbling skin instead. Forget how stupid she was, what the fuck was his problem? Why did he intervene instead of letting her learn her lesson?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Yang-ge, I didn’t-” A-qing babbled as Xue Yang cursed at the pain steadily increasing. He kicked the pot of water and tongue over onto the fire and grabbed her by the back of her robes.

She yelped as she was dragged forward towards the exit, Xue Yang slowly getting quieter and quieter even as he radiated fury and killing intent. The hand on the back of her robes was tightening by the second, dragging her so quickly that her feet stumbled and he was hauling her across the floor instead.

She’d felt Xue Yang come home with the aftereffects of resentful energy clinging to him but she’d never felt him like this. It was suffocating and nauseating, but she was too terrified to even scream. Everything changed so quickly she didn’t know what to think, one moment he was laughing and now he.. He .. he was going to....

He didn’t respond when she called out to him, ignoring her yelp when her knees hit the stairs he was climbing.

Xue Yang was actively burning with murderous intent, he hated pain and when he was hurting he wanted others to hurt too. Even something as simple as his own accidental burns was enough to pour gasoline on the constant coals of fury that he held within him. He could almost taste blood in the air and craved being able to do so.

The crunch of bones under his heel was a building urge, and his hand tightened over the robes until it was clear A-Qing was lucky he hadn’t grabbed her by the neck or it’d be snapped. The familiar feeling of his sword plunging into flesh was like a phantom limb and his blood craved to feel it anew. To refresh that wonderful pleasure as he had it memorised and fill his ears with more screams then just echoes.

He finally made it to the last step, flinging open the door and tossing A-Qing in front of him. She flailed and landed in the dirt, eyes shining with tears even as Jiangzai was unsheathed.

“Yang-ge!” She cried, covering her eyes to protect herself.

A moment later she opened them when nothing came. Instead of Jiangzai being plunged into her belly it was buried in the chest of a Jin disciple who’d been unlucky enough to come check what the commotion was when he heard Xue Yang stomping up the steps.

Xue Yang looked at the corpse on his sword with blank eyes, twitching Jiangzai so the man fell to the ground in a heap instead. Usually he’d be slightly more careful so as to not invoke the wrath of Sect Leader Jin or Jin Guangyao, but this disciple had seen A-Qing and so his life was forfeit as far as Xue Yang cared.

He pointed at her, then the direction of home.

“Go home.” He ordered and in a flash she was running off.

He blinked twice to get the image of her in the dirt out of his mind, trying to push away the reminder that not even ten years ago that had been him.

When the thought wouldn’t leave him, he buried Jiangzai into the body of the Jin disciple a few more times and dragged the corpse downstairs to see if he could bring it’s resentful soul back for some fun. He couldn’t hurt A-Qing, but he knew what he could hurt to feed the powerful urge to cause pain.

#mdzs #the untamed #Xue yang #a qing #xiao xingchen #song lan #xuexiao #songxiaoxue #songxiao #songxue #fanfic #canon divergence #cw: murder #cw: character death #cw: gore #cw: blood #I'm not kidding when I say Xue Yang isn't a good person #Xue Yang won't hurt A-Qing but he also won't be nice about getting her out of the way so he doesnt take his anger out on her #Or nice about who he kills and what he does with the corpses

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vegetalass · 3 years

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I know you're not around much these days but if you ever decide to make a come back, I dont suppose youd do some HC about the rdr2 guys and times theyve got caught mastyrbating around camp? I love your thoughts so much they're hilarious and cute ☺👉👈

This ask is very sweet and I like the idea so I will do it... thanks for your kind words and making me smile, anon!!🥺❤️😘

Find me at @ihatebnha

Hope you enjoy!!

Arthur

Used to get caught a lot more than he does now

Because of such, Dutch and Hosea don’t really care on the rare occasion they do catch him just because it was pretty common when he was younger

They laugh about it between themselves

And when caught, Arthur just pretends it didn’t happen

He’s like, “I don’t touch myself, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

Or if John jokingly is like, “Saw you the other day, what were you thinking about?” Arthur just plays stupid

Stuff like “See me where?” or “See me what?”

And if the subject is pushed it turns into fighting (Arthur saying that John isn’t much better)

Arthur thanks the lord every day that Micah has never caught him in the act because he knows he’d never be able to live it down

And if a girl caught him… he’d probably never be able to look them in the eyes again

Probably jacks off being going to sleep or if he’s alone at camp

John

He has a lot less shame about masturbating, but he’s definitely even more private about the subject than Arthur

He doesn’t really deny it, but he definitely pulls a “You didn’t see shit!!” Even if the person very obviously DID

Also probably gets caught more than not… It’s just at this point, people have stopped commenting on it

Dutch definitely jokingly plays the “Poor Abigail…” card all the time

It makes John (and Abigail) sooooooooo mad

Honestly, I feel like when people catch him, he yells at them but doesn’t bother to stop

Thinks it’s their fault and not his because it was OBVIOUS what he was doing and they still didn’t bother to check or knock

This has caused fights with almost everyone

It’s a “what did you expect” type moment

The only time he’d ever apologize to is if it’s you or another girl who catches him, and even then he would probably never want to see you again out of embarrassment

Hence why John probably just leaves camp and finds a secluded area to jerk off now(good luck to those who wander away from the fire)

Charles

We love Charles because he just jerks it when he’s bathing in a river or something

Out of everyone, he’s the least likely to get caught, and on the rare occasion that he is, is also the most willing to laugh it off

I feel like this is because he’s the one who accidentally catches other people so he knows it’s not a big deal

He’s so quiet no one knows he’s there until it’s too late

Gets called a peeper because of this… even though Charles doesn’t want to catch people any more than they want to be caught

If a girl caught him, he’d try to hide himself before approaching them later to formally apologize

It’s kinda weird… Just be like Arthur and pretend it didn’t happen babe!!

If Dutch or Micah ever caught him doodling it, they’d never let it go and tease him until wit’s end

“So Charles is human after all!” is the type of shit they’d say and he’d literally want to pass away

Dutch, Molly hasn’t had one single orgasm the entire time she’s been with you so BE QUIET

Most likely to masturbate when he’s bathing or when he’s away from camp and alone on missions

Micah

Everybody at camp has to pray that they don’t catch Micah masturbating

He has no shame and does not care what people see

He’s the “What? I have needs!” and “You do it, too!” guy... which honestly, isn’t even bad logic

It’s just when people actually walk in on him he doesn’t really seem bothered… which is kinda freaky

If it’s you or heaven forbid, another girl, he says “Quit staring, either help a man out or leave”

And if it’s Arthur or anyone else, “I knew you were a nasty bastard”

Like… Micah… you’re the one who isn’t ashamed!!!

Too bold for his own good and eventually Dutch probably has to get involved

They have one of those “man to man” talks where Dutch is like “Micah… You know… Men… We keep our business in private…”

Everyone at camp pretends they’re not eavesdropping on the conversation

It’s the only time Micah listens to complaints, and even though he forces himself to calm down on the lewd rudeness, he is still jacking it off whenever the urge arises

Rubs one out in his tent whenever he feels like it

Dutch

To give Dutch credit for something, he doesn’t jack off very often

Partially because he gets down with Molly a lot, but also because he considers himself to have dignity and doesn’t want to ruin that

The only people who’ve really caught him rubbing one out are Hosea and Arthur, and they probably let it go pretty quick after an apology

Most because Dutch is pretty polite about it

“A man’s business is a man’s business” or some BS like that

So when he does masturbate, it’s a calculated and timed move that he makes when he’s pretty sure no one is around

Also willing to laugh it off when he catches someone else masturbating, mostly because he raised two teenage boys, so in a way, he’s used to seeing it on the daily

God forbid is another girl catches him, though, because he’d also pull them aside to apologize

LET IT GO, KING!!!

Jerks off only when he’s desperate and camp is empty

Kieran

King of bad luck

I can see him with a pretty low libido, but probably gets caught making juice the first time he tries it at camp

He was lucky it was just Charles who saw, who thankfully, didn’t say anything about it

But still, it scares the absolute crap out of him and his desire to jack off gets even lower than it was already

Probably stupidly thinks that masturbating is dirty or a sin or something that somebody told him when he was a boy

And if a girl ever caught him, even if they didn’t realize what was happening, he’d just have a heart attack and die

Like he’d literally pack up his stuff and go

Everyone at camp: We’ve all seen Micah twisting it so we don’t care

Kieran: UHHHHH

Also gets teased by Micah and Dutch for it, except their comments are like “Aw, don’t be shy, be a man!” or “I’m sure you’ll find yourself a woman one day…”

Again, Kieran just passes away

Jerks off when he’s alone with the horses in a field and no one is around

Javier

Hasn’t been caught yet despite the fact that everyone knows he jacks off ALL THE TIME

Kinda proud of himself for this fact, too

If it’s the middle of the day and he’s in his tent, he’s busy

Usually can his volume to a minimum, but if he knows no one is around, he doesn’t mind letting it out

Charles, of course, hears it the one time he’s not on a team mission

He’d definitely not going to stop is someone catches him, but he has the decency to cover himself up

Especially if it’s a lady

We like him because he’s not going to acknowledge it happened later but he will apologize in the moment

Says some shit like, “Sorry, princess…” jdsfhksd

If another guy tries to tease him for it, he’ll take it in stride and just tease back

Especially because he knows he’s not as bad as Micah or John who get caught ALL THE TIME

Prefers to rub one out before bed but he’s not really picky as long as it’s in his tent and he has a way to clean up

Sean

Everyone’s had a run in with Sean when his dick’s been out

It’s practically a camp joke that everyone has a story about it

He’s another guy who jacks off when bathing in the river, except he’s:

1. Not secretive about it

2. Bathes all the time

Sean leaves the water hole and everyone knows that they shouldn’t go back in there until the water is washed away

Pretty vocal, too, so you always sorta know when you should avoid certain areas

The only time he’s ever embarrassed is when a girl catches him

Turns bright red, starts stuttering, looking for anything to cover himself up with while apologizing

That being said, he only feels bad because he feels like he ruined his chances of being friendly with them

Gets teased by the other boys for it but enjoys the attention, plus loves teasing right back

“Oh hush you, you love looking at me,” type stuff

He’s a lil nasty but he keeps it fun and fresh

Jacks off before bathing, and sometimes in his tent if he’s desperate or is already clean.

#red dead redemption 2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #anon #ask #anonymous #this was so fun!!!

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i-make-questionable-choices · 4 years

Text

When the Hurt Comes, So Does the Happiness.

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Torture, SPN level gore, mentions of rape/non-con, mentions of forced bestiality(nothing graphic), angst.

Summary: When Alastair disappeared after Anna’s death, he took you with him, holding you simply to torture the Winchesters. With the knowledge that angels are tracking him down, he sets out to hurt you as much as he can.

A/N: This kinda replaces the end of 04x15. Also my first work so please please please let me know how I did or anything else. Feedback is golden!

When Dean came back to life after 40 years in the pit, he had had trouble believing he was, in fact, alive. Paranoia followed him from hell, and it took a while for him to realize that his resurrection was not some cruel joke. It had taken some time, but slowly, he had accepted that this was real. That you were real.

But now you were gone. Plucked from his grasp like a child plucks a flower from the earth. It made Dean wonder if he ever left Hell.

—

Alastair hummed softly, relishing in the cries of his latest victim. It had been surprisingly easy to take his best student little pet away from him, and, though he was no where near either of the Winchesters, the knowledge that they would be driving themselves into the ground looking for you almost had him singing.

He hadn’t felt such exhilaration during a torture session as he was feeling since the righteous man had fallen onto his rack. And while he couldn’t use some of his preferred techniques, considering he wanted you alive, the knowledge that Dean was suffering at your mere absence was delicious.

Carefully selecting a pair cuticle nippers from his cart of tools, he turned with a flourish, grin falling as he realized you were unconscious. You were no fun unconscious, after all, he liked your screams.

With an aggrieved sigh, he dropped the nippers back on the table and, begrudgingly, snatched up a heavy leather collar. He sulked over to the rack where you lay unconscious and cinched it around your neck, far too tight for it to be comfortable, then stormed out of the room

—

When you flickered back into consciousness, all you could do was try and breath.

The still air chilled your bare skin, raising goosebumps along the paled flesh. The leather around your neck, though suffocatingly tight, was eerily comforting, and though it confused you, you lent into it. You needed all the comfort could could get.

Despite the freezing air and the chills that ran along your skin, the outside of your left thigh burned with a vengeance. Tears welled in your eyes as you recalled the moments before you fell unconscious.

The pain from the brand had cast all other thoughts from your mind when Alastair had seared what he called a ‘permanent reminder’ of himself into your skin.

It was all too much, the cold, the pain, your hunger, and the confusing comfort of the collar. You didn’t see it coming, but you barely had seconds before you passed out once more.

—

Alastair waking you up by pouring water on you wasn’t unusual, as a matter of fact, it seemed to be his preferred method. But each and every time the water had been icy.

This time, it was boiling.

You screamed as it awoke you, drowning out Alastair’s cruel laugh as you gasped and sobbed. Your body spasming against its restraints, desperately trying to evade the pain.

“Good morning, pet,” the sickly sweet tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine, “did you enjoy your bath?”

A slight pull choked you for a moment as Alastair undid the buckle before the collar disappeared.

“You fell asleep on me last night, quiet rude don’t you think?” He grinned as tears streamed down your face, tinting pink as they washed away bits of dried blood. “No matter, we have plenty of time for just us today!”

A flash a metal caught in the cold light as Alastair brandished the cuticle nippers once more.

Slowly, delicately, he lowered them to your face, tracing your features just as Dean used to in the wee hours of the morning. If Alastair knew this, he would rejoice knowing that the seat gesture was now ruined by his doing.

He reached your lips, then without warning, split your upper lip in half.

Your wail was music to his ears, the fading sound leaving him yearning for more. He forced you to count threatening you with harsh punishment should you refuse.

By the time they got to one-hundred, your body was shaking with sobs, voice cracking. To add insult to injury, your stomach, having gone four days now with out food, rumbled and groaned.

Humiliation flooded through you, your cheeks burning.

Through tears you spared a glance at your torturer, furrowed brow widened as you perceived the look of sadistic joy upon his face.

“Pet!” He cried, the same way a mother or parental figure does when you do something unexpected. "You should have told me you were so hungry!”

He released the nippers, letting them clatter to the ground.

“I wasn’t going to feed you just yet but I suppose we could switch things around a bit…” The strap across your forehead prevented you from turning your head completely, but your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw the contraption Alastair selected; a long tube, open on one end with a funnel connected to the other.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you clamped your lips tight, ignoring the burning pain that spread across your face at the pressure on your cut lip. Alastair snorted, the corners of his smirk curling up further.

“Very well then, if you insist on being difficult…”

You cried out as he shoved the tube up your nose. It wasn’t a large tube, but good god was it to big for such a small space. You could feel it scraping away at the inside of your nose, could feel the blood trickle down to your mouth.

There was barely a warning before it entered your throat; a slight tickle at the top of your mouth, perhaps.

You coughed and gagged as he slipped it down you throat further, eyes leaking tears like a faucet.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the tube stopped moving. Sniffling, you sobbed, not bothering to muffle the sounds of crying.

“Bonne appétit, kitten.”

You couldn’t see what he poured into the funnel, part of you didn’t want to anyways. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, waiting for whatever pain you would feel next. You did not expect to feel a tickle in your chest before your body spasmed into a coughing fit.

“Whoopsie!”

Alastair’s voice sent shivers up your spine. “Wrong way. I’m so sorry, kitten, how careless of me.”

Pulling it back out was just as bad as him pushing it in, it was unnatural and you so longed to claw at your neck.

It took him a moment to actually get the tube into your esophagus, but with a sharp jab and a feel around your neck, he was pretty sure it was in the right place now.

He was halfway through, ignoring your gags in an effort to repeal the foreign device, when his head shot up, eyes gazing towards the door, before a smirk adorned his mug.

“Well, pet, it seems that we have a guest,” he reached for the collar, tightening it more than he ever had before. “You’ll be a good girl while I go and greet them, won’t you?”

With a slight bow, he disappeared from your vision, exiting somewhere behind you and slamming a door you couldn’t see. The only sounds now audible were your gags as your body fought to expel the tube from its system.

Tilted onto your back, it was excruciatingly hard for you to vomit up the tube and you needed up spewing several mouthfuls of bile onto yourself before you could spit it out.

With Alastair gone, you began to process your situation.

Naked, shorn, and weak, covered in cuts and burns and bruises, sticky with blood and bile and the filth of the dogs Alistair had set on you. Helpless. Alone. Collared, branded, and chained like an animal. For the first time in these two weeks, it hit you just how pathetic you were was.

It was the straw that broke the camels back. The loneliness. The time to think. With a shuddering gasp, you descended into tears

—

Dean sprinted through the halls of the warehouse. Slamming his hands into every door, yelling out your name. The desperation raw in his voice.

He reached the end of the hall and tried the door; locked.

At first, he backed up, trying with all his might to kick it down, and then to bodyslam it open. When his body couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed his gun.

Aiming it at the glass square in the door, he fired several times until he had a hole large enough to reach through.

Shards of glass still clinging to the door frame pierced his jacket at sliced his skin, he didn’t care, he had to check everywhere.

It was an awkward angle, and Dean could barely reach it, but he managed to twist the knob on the inside until the door swung open; revealing the carnage inside.

—

It took the Dean a moment to register that the form on the table was indeed the women he was looking for. No longer did you sport your gorgeous H/C locks, the hair barely dotting your shaved scalp as it began growing back. Your skin was so stained and burned and bruised it didn’t look human.

Hesitantly, as if approaching a frightened rabbit, Dean paced forwards.

“Y/N?” His voice as hesitant as his steps.

Your eyes flew open, fearful as a rabbit chased by dogs. The relief that flooded them as soon as you realized who it was was immediate.

“de-an?” Your voice choppy and hoarse.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Dean struggled to blink back tears.

“s-sammy?”

“He’s okay, I’m gonna get you outta here, okay sweetheart?”  You hummed, eyes half closed as your head lolled to the side, a couple tears cutting through the grime on your cheeks and nose.

Silence hung between them as Dean fiddled with straps around your wrists, slick blood and bile. The straps had been locked so tightly that they had rubbed the skin raw and left it paled as blood smuggled to fill back in.

As the moved to your ankles he grimaced, noticing the sticky white mess that dripped down your inner thighs.

You didn’t make a sound as he adjusted your prone figure to sit forwards, letting you lean against his shoulder as he fiddled with the too tight buckle around your neck. He didn’t care about the vomit that dribbled down your chin, staining his shirt, nor did he care about the blood that seeped into his clothes.

His only focus was you.

The collar fell away from your neck leaving behind rubs and bruised skin. Dean had expected the removal of the collar to calm you, not for your breathing to speed up ten-fold, nor to be able to feel your heart pound against his chest.

“no.” It was barely a whisper, a hint of a word, but Dean stilled, pulling back as he gripped your shaking shoulders. His mind was scrambling for answers, what had Alastair done to you? Why were you wearing t-

Oh.

He pulled you tight against his chest once more, murmuring reassurances in your ear as he hid his own tears from view.

His rage burned as he recalled his time apprenticing under Alastair; the time that monster had shown him one of his more ‘refined’ techniques.

Conditioning.

Training the victims mind into associating the removal of a collar or chains or the opening of their cage with extreme pain. It was a technique so ruthless that Dean had never been able to bring himself to do it.

Not even at his worst.

It took Dean a moment, but, as he desperately tried to banish those horrid memories from his mind, he shrugged off his jacket. Gently as he could, he draped the fabric over your shoulders and carefully guided each arm through the sleeves.

It was a bit too big, your fingers still hiding in the sleeves, but it gave you a shred of modesty and you clutched at him tighter.

When his arm wormed its way under your knees, you stifled your whimper as best you could but you could not conceal the tiniest of squeaks that escaped your cracked lips.

Deans eyes filled with pity, mouth parting to apologize but you beat him to it.

“P-please, just get me out of here.”

He hesitated a moment then steeled himself and nodded, his other arm supporting your lower back.

“Sorry about this sweetheart.”

You gasped softly as some of your injuries rubbed against his shirt and fresh tears sprang in your eyes. As he lifted you closer to his chest, you brought your trembling arms up around his neck, leaning your chin over his shoulder.

The beat of his steps both jarred your injuries and provided comforting sounds, lulling you into a more restful state. You would have fallen asleep had Dean not stepped outside moments later.

The air was crisp, slight breezing chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you burrowed deeper into Deans arms and he tightened his hold on you. As he carried you away from the hellhole in which you had been trapped, the sky came into view. And with the sky, came the stars.

They twinkled, blurring in you teary eyes and you took in a long, deep breath of fresh air.

You couldn’t help yourself; sobs wracked your body as it truly set in that you were finally free. Free from Alastair and his pain. Free from his torture. Free.

Dean didn’t say a word. He knew exactly the emotions that were coursing through you. When he had first come back, he had been hesitant and as wary as a rabbit. Not daring for ages to believe that his resurrection was not some cruel joke.

As he reached the Impala. He had to shift his hold on you to reach the passengers side handle and even then he had difficulty opening the door, but he managed. Not daring to set you down and the unforgivingly cold concrete.

Slowly ducking his head, he lowered you onto your back onto the cool leather seat of the Impala. He made to pull away but your arms tightened around his neck, terrified of losing him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart, I’m just gonna grab you a blanket, okay? I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He took time to check that everything he did was okay with you, letting you know everything so as not to leave you dreading something he would do, even if he knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. Gently he took ahold of your forearms, clutching them between fingertips, and lowered them to your chest. Pulling away quickly, he opened the door to the backseat, reaching up onto the rear dash to grab one of the thick blankets they kept there. He shut the door as quietly as he could, but that didn’t stop you from reflexively tensing at the abrupt noise. Though Dean noticed, he said nothing, it wouldn’t help you right now anyways.

Carefully, he worked the blanket underneath you, then laid you back down on the leather, wrapping you up nice and tight. He ducked back, about to shut the door when the rustling of feathers sounded behind him, alarming the both of you.

Quiet as a cat, in all his trench-coated glory, was Castiel. His eye were stoic and matched Deans fiery gaze.

“What do you want now?” Dean snarled, turning completely and shielding you from the angels view.

For a moment, Castiel was silent, eyes dropping to stare at the road beneath him before he returned his gaze to Dean, stepping forwards.

“This hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Yeah no shit! What the hell do you want?”

“I’m here to help.” He nodded at you.

“Why the fuck would you do that. You’ve done nothing for us since you pulled me outta hell!” Deans voice was low and angry, yet cautiously quiet.

Behind him, you shivered as the night air crept in through the open door.

Castiel said nothing, lifting his chin to regard Dean. The look he sported was not judgmental, but perhaps slightly inquisitive. And not the type of inquisitivity that came alongside confusion, no he knew everything he wanted and needed to, but instead a type of inquisitivity that prompted Dean to stop and think.

For a few tense moments, only the stars dared to move, it seemed even the air around the angel and the hunter stilled. Then, slowly, cautiously, Dean stepped back.

“Fine, but hurry the hell up!”

Periwinkle eyes softened, a look of compassion that one might expect when they thought of an angel, and he leant over you.

At first you shrunk away, not willing to be near anyone other than Dean, but you had to trust Dean, trust that he wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t mildly trust near you.

Eyes glowing blue, Castiel pressed but two fingers to your forehead. The tenseness in your shoulders seemed to relax and the frown upon your lips softened. A wave of warmth, like a loving hug, washed through you, chasing away the pain Though the bloodstains and other substances soiling your skin remained, the physical damage was slowly washed away.

He stepped back, allowing Dean to approach you and examine his work. Though Dean still had his back to him, Castiel gave one last thoughtful comment.

“We’re not all so stuck-up, if you give us a chance.”

Dean had barely started to turn before Castiels wings rustled once more and he disappeared into nothingness.

He stared long and hard at the spot where the angel had once stood, the let his gaze wander upwards. Overhead, a patch of cloud was slowly pushed across the sky, and the moon glowed brightly. She smiled down at the hunter as he gazed at her in return.

Dean lowered his gaze.

He stood there for only a moment longer then turned, shutting the passengers door behind him and walking across the front of the car. He pulled the door open and plopped down in the drivers seat, exhausted.

He hadn’t expected it, but a soft smile graced his features as you scooted closer to him, wresting your head against his thigh.

Starting the car he pulled out from the curb, placing one hand on your head. You murmured then nuzzled into the touch.’

It would take weeks, maybe even months, but, as he sped away from Alastair’s hellhole Dean knew you would be okay.

Both of you, would be okay.

#dean winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester whump #dean winchester one shot #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #supernatural angst #supernatural whump #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #alastair #castiel #SamWinchester #I Make Questionable Choices #Questionable-Choices writing

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aestheticsfandomsandmore · 3 years

Text

Great, I kinda wrote a continuation of tianshan's last strip, even knowing it will never happen. Again, I have to remind you I'm Italian, so I may have made a few mistakes - I'd be glad if you reported them.

Hope you enjoy.

I posted this on AO3, if you want to read it there.

____________________________

“Put me the fuck down, you chicken dick!”

“Relax~ It's going to be fun.”

“For you, maybe!”

“Yeah, definitely, but you will have fun as well if you stop panicking.”

He Tian puts him down and locks the bathroom door. Then he mischievously smiles at him before heading towards the bathtub in order to fill it with hot water and some bath salts.

Mo tries to open the door but the key disappeared. “Shit, wha- what are you planning to do?”

“Like a said, taking a nice bath with Little Mo. Do you prefer vanilla or chocolate scent?”

“I don't prefer shit. Jesus, He Tian, let me out of here now.”

He Tian looks at him, still smiling but less wider. “Don't be such a damper. I'll go with chocolate then.”

Mo sighs. “I really regret coming here. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps” He Tian walks toward him, once the bath is ready, “you were worried I really meant my last message.”

Fucker. Mo is sure to be blushing because he feels hot all over his face and is even more sure of that when He Tian smirks.

“You wanted to see me and you didn't want us to part. But now you're here with me and you're complaining. Such a complicated lad.”

“Just because I wanted to see you, it doesn't mean I want to take a god damn bath with you!” he screams, feeling angry and exposed at the same time. Yeah, he didn't want to end their relationship, for some reason, but He Tian always has to break any kind of boundaries or concept of personal space, making him wonder why he even bothers trying to be less... less Mo Guan Shan-like.

“So you admit you wanted to see me! That's so cute, Little Mo!”

“I'm not going to take my clothes off. You'll have to undress me yourself.”

He Tian moves dangerously closer, only a few inches between them. “Is that a dare?” he whispers.

Mo gets even more embarrassed and takes a few steps away. “No, it isn't! I'm serious, He Tian, cut this crap, let me out-”

“Why?”

Mo swallows. If he didn't know him better, he'd almost say that He Tian is looking sad. “What's that supposed to mean? I. Don't. Want. To. Take. A. Bloody. Bath. With. You. Is it so hard to understand?”

“Yes” He Tian answers. “I don't understand you sometimes.”

Mo freezes. “Well, that's none of my business, if you can't understand something so simple, it just proves that you're a selfish bastard. Not that I didn't know already. Now give me the ke-”

“Then why have you come? Why did you want to see me, if you think so badly of myself?”

Mo tightens his fists. He doesn't really know what to say: he's been repeating that question to himself for almost a year.

“The answer is that you like me” He Tian hazards. He holds his sides gently and Mo doesn't even push him off, taken off guard. “I know you do. That's why I don't understand why you're always resisting me. I'm right here, right now, and I want you. I'm not gonna lie. So you shouldn't either.”

Mo puts his hands on his chest in order to push him away, but he doesn't really manage to do that. He's sweating, the room is hot, He Tian is hot and he can't handle him when he's so close. “I- I don't- I-” he can't think straight.

He Tian giggles and then says: “Stop thinking. This has nothing to do with your brain. This is just a matter of...” He moves one hand from his side and puts his fingers on Mo's heart. He doesn't complete his sentence but he doesn't really need to. It's a matter of feelings, emotions: painful, terrible, annoying things human beings cannot really control. His heart is racing so fast right now. He's so close to give up. He just needs one more reason...

“I won't do anything funny, I won't even touch you if you don't want me to, I promise. I just want us to hug in the bathtub for a while.”

Sounds reasonable, a small part of his mind tells him. The rest of it is shouting not to trust, not to let him get so close, not to surrender so easily, not to get naked in front of him, in any sense possible.

Mo doesn't listen to all of that. “Okay.”

He Tian smiles, a wide and warm smile that makes something inside Mo's body melt. He's not sure what that is.

“Can I undress you or you want to do that yourself?”

Mo is surprised, almost shocked that He Tian asked for permission and didn't just do it right away. “Uhm-” he's so confused by all that's happening that he's not sure what to answer. “I- I mean... okay.”

What the actual fuck? Has he actually agreed?

He Tian looks like he could explode from too much happiness in any second. Stupid, Mo thinks. But he can't help smiling a little.

He Tian softly grabs the collar of his shirt and takes it off from Mo's shoulders and arms. He is now looking at him like he's about to eat him. Mo can't really believe to be able to make someone feel like that; to make feel like that. He can't just ignore the lust in He Tian's eyes. He takes his shirt off very slowly, caressing the skin of his abdomen and chest almost reverently. He takes a minute to look at his naked bust and Mo feels like every centimeter of his body is getting hot. He can't help but shake a little.

He Tian notices. “Relax” he tells him, “we're just getting started.”

That doesn't really help him relax.

He Tian puts his hand under the elastic band of his pants. Mo swallows. He's not sure he's ready for this, but before he can say anything He Tian makes his pants fall down to his feet.

“M-M-Maybe I... I should... take this off.” Mo mumbles, feeling so extremely embarrassed by the thought of He Tian seeing his penis.

He Tian looks like he's fighting a battle with himself and Mo's sure he is: he would normally continue his doing without even caring about what Mo just said, but right now he probably knows he's already been allowed to do things he normally could have just dreamed of. It's almost like he doesn't want to push his luck. “Okay” he agrees, finally, taking a deep breath before undressing himself.

Shit, he's so fucking gorgeous. His muscular torso, his long legs, his perfect face and his... oh, yeah, he's got a pretty great ass. Mo turns around and takes his pants off, his face completely red. It is not the first time he has been staring at the other's body, but never has without even a piece of clothes on.

“Should we... get inside?” he asks but he doesn't really have the courage to look at him in the eye.

He Tian surprises Mo by hugging him closely. His hands are embracing his shoulders and his chest is all around Mo's back. “Sure” he replies, before giving him a small kiss on the neck.

Mo jumps out of his skin and He Tian laughs. He enters first and Mo follows him right after, quickly, pretty impatient to cover as much skin as possible. The water is warm and scented, he can sense his body already softnening, he feels at ease. He Tian sits behind him and hugs him, just like a minute before but now it's way more intimate. He doesn't mind, though. For tonight, maybe, he should just try to enjoy the moment.

“Feels good, huh?” He Tian asks, near his ear.

Chills all over his body. Damn.

“Uhm, yeah” he says.

They stay silent for a while, He Tian's forehead against Mo's nape, Mo's eyes closed trying to avoid the thought of their naked skin being so fucking close.

“Now I'm going to wash your back” He Tian announces at some point. Mo remembers him saying he would do so. He doesn't have the time to answer, 'cause the other boy has already grabbed a sponge and is now starting to gently rub it against his back. It actually feels... pretty good. He Tian goes from his neck to his shoulders and then rubs his spine, from his nape to his sacrum. That freaks him out: he's too close to his ass.

He Tian notices once again and, surprisingly, stops, heading towards the centre of his back. Mo breathes a sigh of relief: he's glad He Tian didn't break his word not to do anything funny. Once he's finished with his back, he holds him tighter with his left arm while rubbing his torso with his right hand, as slowly as before, almost like he's treasuring every second of it. He probably is.

Mo tries to ignore the fact that he can feel He Tian's dick pressing onto his skin; he's hard. It's such a strange feeling, but he can't help blushing and moaning for a second thinking that he's able to get such a reaction out of him, without even trying. For one, tiny second, he even imagines what He Tian would be like if he just stopped being so stubborn, if he admitted to himself something he is well aware of but is not ready to accept; what He Tian would look like around him if he were able to kiss him and touch him freely. Right now, he basically seems to be in heaven and they aren’t even really doing anything. At one point of them being so incredibly close, he figures themselves in bed and he wonders if, during their first time, He Tian would be gentle or rough or maybe a passionate combination of both. He pictures them...

“Like it?” He Tian asks and Mo jolts, realizing what he was thinking and where he actually is, blushing hard, cursing himself in his mind. When he understands the other's question, he nods. He can sense He Tian's smile on his clavicle.

Maybe he shouldn't regret to have come to his house, after all.

#tianshan #strip continue #fan fiction #19 days #mo guanshan #mo guan shan #he tian #he tian x mo guan shan #he tian x mo guanshan #i really hope something like this is going to happen #even just the dialogue part

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

Text

Not Today XX

A/N: Back to our normal chapter length! Yay! There's some fluff and angst in this chapter (fluffy angst? angsty fluff??), and I had a lot of fun writing that. I have something really big planned for... probably the next chapter, if not then certainly the one after that, but nothing so big as Chapter Nineteen! Just the beginnings of some major character development :) Until then, enjoy having some time to process what happened last time, and take a breather- the characters here certainly needed one! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Björn was being hailed as the new King of Kattegat when Lagertha, Ubbe, and Torvi had arrived from Wessex. Celebrations had been called for, a feast to be prepared, but Torvi had noticed something. She’d had something on her mind on this journey, and so now, she had looked about, and not found what she’d been searching for. Ubbe knew she’d be looking, and so he had looked too, and was unsurprised when she asked, “Where is the Princess?”

Both of the brothers who had seen her that day paused, and shared a look between themselves. Hvitserk gave Björn a look that silently asked, Do you want to tell her, or me? Björn gave a sigh, and turned to Torvi. “She has gone with Ivar,” he said.

Ubbe and Torvi looked at Björn in shock, but Lagertha simply gave a knowing smile, and shook her head as if amused. “Of course she has,” she said. “Did none of you think she might?”

They looked between themselves, and Ubbe eventually sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “She was supposed to convince him to give up the throne,” he said. “Not take his side.”

“She did,” Hvitserk said. “She convinced him to leave, and said if we would let them go, Kattegat was ours.”

“Is she going to be safe with Ivar?” Torvi questioned then. “I know she can fight, we trained her before she ever left, but if she’s left with him…”

Hvitserk again spoke. “She will be,” he said. “I cannot explain it, but he cares for her.”

“He cared for Freydis too, and you see where that got her,” Björn argued.

“Freydis betrayed him,” Hvitserk countered. “Aethelind has done the exact opposite of that.”

“Exactly,” Björn agreed. “And she’s done the opposite of what she was meant to do.”

“But, exactly as I suspected she would,” Lagertha finally said. All eyes turned to her with shocked expressions, none of them having expected what she apparently had. She chuckled softly, and explained herself. “Björn, you questioned if the Princess would be capable of standing up to Ivar, did you not?”

“She is a Shieldmaiden now,” Hvitserk corrected. “She says she is giving up her English titles until she knows she does not want this Norse one.”

Lagertha hummed, and nodded. “Then I stand corrected,” she easily acquiesced. “But Björn, did you not question this?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “And it would appear I was right! Who knows what she will tell him, now she has betrayed us?”

“She has not betrayed us,” Lagertha said. “She has done what she came to do, just as Hvitserk has said. Ivar has given up the throne. All she did was go about it in a way which did not require her to betray anyone. And I expected this from her- before she left, I could sense what you all could, that she cared for him. Hvitserk.”

The youngest Ragnarsson left in Kattegat looked up at Lagertha, wondering what she wanted with him just then.

“You were here with them, for a time. Did you not see that develop?” she asked.

He chuckled a little. “It’s why I made no move to stop her when she left,” he confessed. “We all knew how he spoke of her when he first returned from Wessex, when our father died. It made sense how they reacted to each other. I had never seen such… disbelief on his face, than when she entered the Great Hall. He cleared it immediately for their reunion.”

Lagertha gave a knowing nod, smiling a little. “Some say the heart cannot win a battle,” she said. “But women know different. She allowed her heart to lead her with him, and I think perhaps, she convinced him to let his do the same.”

Whether this was true or not became a frequent topic of debate between the five, but far away from Kattegat, the truth of the matter was being played out. Ivar the Boneless and the Shieldmaiden Aethelind had begun to travel toward the Silk Road. It was a slow journey, and Ivar’s legs were aching, but they needed to keep going.

Eventually, however, Ivar began to stumble from the pain, and Aethelind decided they needed rest. But, she knew him. If she suggested they stop because of his legs, he would get angry and insist he was alright, and they should keep going. However, if she were to need the rest…

She wrapped a hand around his arm, and leaned against him a little. “Ivar,” she said, letting her voice sound tired. “We should rest. My feet ache, and I’ve all but exhausted my energy.”

He paused in their walking and turned to look at her. He’d grabbed his cloak on the way out, hoping to hide his identity with it. So, when he looked at her, it was from under the hood of his cloak. She reached up to pull it back so she could see his face better.

“We need to put distance between ourselves and Kattegat,” he said. “My brothers will be faster, they could catch us…”

“We’re far enough to just stop and rest a moment,” she assured him. “If we could find a stream somewhere, I’d like to at least wash all this blood off. Then we can keep going if you still feel so inclined.” He didn’t seem quite convinced yet, and so she reached up, brushed back a strand of his hair that had fallen from his braids, and asked, “Ivar, please?”

He sighed and looked around them just a bit. Eventually, he gave a nod. “We can find a place to clean up, and rest there,” he agreed. She grinned as a way of thanking him, and he smiled a little at her happiness.

They continued on walking for a little while, and soon in fact did come to what appeared to be a small river. When they found it, the two walked over, and the first thing Aethelind did was kneel beside it to wash her face. The water was cool, and sent a chill to her bones, but watching the blood wash down the river made it easily worth it.

“If you want to get in, I can watch and be sure no one comes,” Ivar offered after a few moments. Aethelind stopped and looked up at him with slightly widened eyes.

“You mean..?”

He chuckled a little and nodded. “Shieldmaiden, we are going to be travelling together for quite a foreseeable time. I assume you were able to come with me because you trust me. I will warn you if I see someone, and you will have plenty of time to dress again before they would see you. Hm?”

“Well, yes, I trust you not to let anyone else see me, but…” she began, and stopped when he chuckled.

“You Christians are funny,” he said. “I will keep my back turned. Clean yourself, Shieldmaiden.”

Ivar found a rock to sit on, and sat facing the road. Her cheeks were still flushed bright pink, but she did undress, and slip into the water. He was alerted to this by the little gasp she gave at the cold, and chuckled again with a small smile on his lips. She was certainly very amusing, wasn’t she?

And the concern about her modesty was endearing. He doubted he would soon forget the cute blush on her cheeks, and the almost appalled look on her face when he’d suggested she undress to bathe. She’d had thralls to look after her in Kattegat, but he figured that was the difference- they would have all been women assisting her with her bath.

Not that he was really assisting with anything other than protecting her from someone with ill intentions, but… He figured it was the fact he was there at all which made her so quick to become flustered.

He’d have been further amused to know she still had her back to him. At least until he called her name, and she instinctively turned toward him to see what he wanted. “Hm?” she prompted, and without moving, he answered her.

“We should leave our armor here,” he said. “I have been thinking- if we take it, people will see we have been in battle. It may be easy for them to draw a connection, if the news spreads about what happened in Kattegat, and that we have escaped.”

He was right, and so she nodded, though he couldn’t see. “Alright,” she agreed. “I’m keeping my sword, though.”

Ivar chuckled and said, “I didn’t intend to ask you to leave it.”

No one came along while Aethelind washed, and soon enough, she was crawling out of the river and pushing the water off her body as best she could. She dressed herself only in the tunic, trousers, and boots she’d been wearing before, leaving her armor off as she returned her sword to her hips.

“I’m finished,” she announced to Ivar. “If you’d like to wash as well, I can keep a watch out for you.”

Ivar chuckled and said, “I’m not so worried as you were.”

She turned red again. “Then… I’ll just give you some privacy for my own comfort, if you’ll take none from it.”

Ivar gave a small roll of his eyes, still amused with her, and gestured for her to sit beside him. He had to undo the braces on his legs if he was going to bathe, and truthfully, the privacy was a slight comfort for him. It meant she wouldn’t see his legs, and if she didn’t see them, perhaps she would never become disgusted with him as Margrethe had.

He still thought of Freydis as the one off, not Margrethe. Surely, Freydis had to have been the special one to have not cared, and most women would have responded the way Margrethe had. He never once considered that perhaps Margrethe had had the more uncommon reaction.

So, his assumption was that Aethelind would have felt the same way as that woman had, as would anyone who saw, which made him happy that Aethelind wouldn’t see, and would be sure no one else did either.

His fingers worked quickly over the various buckles, but he paused in his work when he felt a weight against his arm. Ivar looked over and saw it was Aethelind who leaned against him- and of course it was, who else could it have been? Her eyes were nearly shut, and she gave a small sigh.

“You are more tired than you have said, aren’t you?” he asked, and she nodded. The adrenaline had finally worn off for her while she was in the water, and the day’s events were catching up to her.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere to truly rest,” she suggested. “There must be somewhere well hidden enough for us to be able to sleep for an hour or two.”

“We can keep an eye out for somewhere like that,” he promised her, and found himself reaching up to push some hair from her face. He didn’t expect her to smile a little when he did.

Ivar quickly finished undoing his braces so he could get in the water, and he was freed from them, he slid off the rock, flipped himself over, and crawled to the edge of the river. Aethelind just readjusted so she was sitting more comfortably, and waited.

He was rather quick to wash, and climbed out shortly after he had gotten in, and while he was dressing, he thought of something. “Aethelind,” he called, once he’d at least gotten his pants back on. Just as before, she instinctively turned toward him.

Aethelind’s eyes widened a little as she watched him reaching for his tunic, and her cheeks turned pink. She’d have thought that, perhaps, having been raised with two brothers would have helped her not to be this way. But, Ivar was rather not her brother, and she’d always found him to be a rather handsome man as it was. Her mind betrayed her by reminding her of those moments they’d shared in Kattegat, and where they might have led had he not been married.

The thought of his wife brought Aethelind’s mood down exponentially. She should have been there with them, should have been able to escape with them. But, had she survived, she likely wouldn’t have come anyway. After all, she had joined Björn’s side in the end. The Shieldmaiden would have been torn between Freydis and Ivar.

At least she’d have been alive. Aethelind would have put up with any pain that came from having to choose, if it meant Freydis could have lived.

Ivar looked up when she didn’t make any sort of noise in response to his calling her name, and immediately noticed the look on her face. He quickly finished putting on the tunic he had grabbed while waiting, and crawled over to her. The ground was rough on his hands, as he hadn’t put his arm braces back on yet.

When he reached her, she looked down at him. Her thoughts were clouded by the pain in her chest at the loss of Freydis, and he could see that whatever was on her mind was causing her pain. His hand came up to take hers on her lap, once he got himself in a somewhat comfortable position. Aethelind finally let her eyes meet his, then, and she smiled sadly at him.

“What is it?” he asked her, his tone gentle.

“I miss her,” she confessed. “I know… it must not be easy for you to hear, I shouldn’t-”

“No, I miss her as well,” Ivar interrupted, and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I wish she had not betrayed us.”

Aethelind nodded. “I was thinking how she should be here, with us, not… lying in Kattegat waiting for a funeral you and I will never see. But then I realized, even if she lived, she would not be with us. She’d have stayed in Kattegat with Björn, and we’d have lost her all the same.”

“I would have,” Ivar said, thinking he was correcting her. “She would have wanted you at her side, you know that.”

“I do,” she replied, her eyes looking up and toward the horizon now. “But… I don’t know if I would have stayed.” She could sense Ivar’s questioning gaze, and so she explained, “I’m not sure I’d have been able to leave you alone. Or, let you go alone, rather.”

Ivar gave her a strange look then, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You would have left Freydis to journey with me?”

Aethelind chuckled. “Perhaps I would have left, and asked you both to journey with me,” she suggested. She smiled wryly, clearly halfway wishing she’d been able to do that. “Maybe I should have asked when the battle first began.”

Silence fell over them, and she soon found herself freeing her hand from his. He looked back up at her, and found her looking back at him. She tilted his head down so he wasn’t looking at her any longer, and let his hair out of the braided style he had it in. Before he could ask what she was doing, Aethelind started to run her fingers through his hair.

“I miss my father,” she confessed after a few moments, since apparently they were to be talking about those who had gone before them. Ivar tried to look up at her, but she moved his head to keep combing through his hair with her fingers. “He died about a year ago. When your army came, we ended up in the marshes for quite some time, before the ordeal at York. Alfred was ill, Aethelred grew distant, my mother was always tending to Alfred… I grew close to my father.”

She was looking off into the distance again, and she sighed softly. “I never knew the man who was my biological father. He was killed… probably before I was ever born. But my mother’s husband stepped in where my father should have been, and raised me as his own daughter.”

When her hands in his hair stilled, he looked back up at her, and noticed she was now chewing on her lip. Her eyes had become slightly red, and he realized they were watering a bit. “There’s not a day goes by I don’t miss him,” she said. She let out a soft, sad sort of laugh, and he saw the tears finally begin to fall down her cheeks. “Do you ever wonder why… it seems sometimes that those we need most… they’re the ones who go so soon?”

Finally, her eyes looked to his, and Ivar found himself smiling sadly as well, before moving to haul himself up onto the rock beside her. She watched him do so, and he said, “It is so we learn to rely on ourselves, and not on them.” He brought a finger up to tap the side of her head, and he added, “It is in times of hardship that we learn. Hm? A very wise woman once told me that.”

Aethelind couldn’t stop the laugh that left her, and she leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder again. Ivar found himself wrapping his arm around her, hoping it would offer some comfort to her. “My father was gone for ten years,” he said. “I grew up without him, for the most part. A few years when I was young, but I don’t remember. A few weeks when he returned. But… not enough to feel like I knew him. My mother was too protective of me, always afraid I would break a bone. The only person she seemed to trust me with was Floki. The boatbuilder.”

The shieldmaiden lifted her brows a bit, and looked up at Ivar’s face. She hadn’t expected to hear he was so close to the man who’d killed her birth father. “He became like a father to me as I grew, but he left while we were still in your kingdom. I begged him to stay, but…”

Ivar frowned, shaking his head a little. “He committed himself to the seas, to the will of the gods. I have not seen him since, but I pray he is well. I pray he is happy, wherever he is.”

“Then we both have a father to miss,” she said. “Two fathers to miss, really. Those we barely knew, and those who raised us.”

He smiled tightly, and nodded. “We are both orphans, aren’t we?” he commented then, seeming to grow a bit thoughtful. Aethelind nodded. “Our brothers are not at our sides anymore. We have lost one, and the others are somewhere we have left behind. We both lost my wife.” She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at how that sounded, though it was the sort of laugh that came when one has just been crying.

“We have each other, though,” she said. “And our faiths.”

Ivar gave a slower nod, and hummed. “We do,” he said. “So we are not totally alone.”

“No, we aren’t,” she agreed.

The sun had begun to set, and they both watched it as it grew lower and lower. Ivar was taken back to that day when he noticed the similarity between Aethelind and Nótt, and Freydis and Dag. Skinfaxi, and Hrímfaxi. How strange it was that as the day ended, he had lost the sun, and yet the moon remained at his side. One final light in the darkness his life had become.

He’d been told by the Seer that they would all descend into the dark. The Seer had also told him that a snake was buried in his skull, and that he would be pulled like the tides at the command of the moon.

The first two had proven themselves true. And now, as he glanced down at Aethelind, who was still watching the sun disappear from the sky, he began to wonder in what ways he would be pulled to her will.

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