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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Note

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere mystic messenger #yandere saeran #yandere oneshot #yandere saeran choi #yandere unkown #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere hacker

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cafeacademia · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Fred Weasley x Reader (SMUT)

Summary: After you accidentally catch your best friend and roommate, Fred doing his laundry in just his boxers, you turn into a flustered mess, but it’s when you make the next clothing slip that either of you act on your feelings.

Warnings: Straight up smut!!! Oral (female receiving), sex, a bucket load of fluff, quite a bit of embarrassment and awkwardness at the beginning.

Word count: Approx 3500

Masterlist

Please read the drabble that sparked the rest of this story (it doesn’t make a huge amount of sense otherwise!)

A/N: Hello my loves! My god was this fun to write! I love some Freddie smut and I hope you enjoy it too! This was inspired by my lovely friend, Holly’s made up title ask, which turned into a drabble and is now followed by this full fic! Enjoy 💖

Fred was rather annoyed with himself. He’d been far too wrapped up in teasing you in your flustered state when he had been standing nearly naked in front of you, and yet he’d not taken a second to actually see if you felt the same way that he did. Albeit, was doing it mostly naked in front of your best friend a good idea? Fred thought, probably not.

But now, only a few hours later, Fred regretted it even more, because his poor roommate, his poor best friend couldn't even look at him without looking as if you were about to keel over in embarrassment.

And while Fred was annoyed with himself that he’d not done anything about months, years even of being completely and utterly in love with you, you on the other hand were reprimanding yourself in the other room over how you had blatantly drooled over the poor boy.

He probably thought you were creepy or weird. Or both. Both were definitely plausible, you thought as you climbed out of the shower, having taken one in the hopes of getting the embarrassing moment off your mind. Unfortunately for you though, it had only given your mind more time to replay and over exaggerate the interaction.

But as you dried yourself off and did your usual bathroom routine, you quickly realised that being so stuck in your own head had led you to a near similar situation that Fred had been in just mere hours ago. You were stuck in the bathroom with nothing but a small bath towel that barely covered you while you had forgotten your clothes. The worst part was you had walked into the bathroom naked while Fred had gone out for a little while and you just hoped to Merlin that he was still out of the apartment so you didn’t have to face him with embarrassment while being nearly naked.

Unlocking the door and opening it by just a slither, enough to see into the main room, you poked your head out for a second to survey and thankfully, to your relief, there was no Fred in sight and you let out the breath you had been holding on to as you pulled the door open fully and stepped out of the bathroom with the towel loosely wrapped around you.

“Alright there, love?” Fred’s voice came from behind you and your movements seized as you froze on the spot, eyes going wide. Shit. “Fred,” You practically squeaked his name out in shock before pausing, half turning towards him. Fred noticed you were still unable to look at him fully, as if meeting his eyes might vaporise you on the spot or turn you into a puddle.

If you hadn’t already felt rather exposed with just a towel on before, you felt as if you were completely naked and you swallowed thickly as he took a step closer to you. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like or want his attention, you craved Fred. You wanted him in every capacity possible, but this was not the way you had spent many nights and lonely showers and hours working imagining how it would go. And quite frankly, you were sure your cheeks were still as hot as they had been earlier that day when you had walked in on your best friend.

“That’s an awfully short towel, love.” Fred smirked and you managed a quick glance at his features before you shyly looked away again and you suddenly felt very aware of where the fabric fell against your skin. Did it hide you well enough? You supposed it was really a bit too late to be wondering that now, though.

“Sorry, I might’ve… Forgotten my clothes.” It came out quieter than you had meant it to and Fred could see how flustered you were. “I don’t mind.” Fred told you with a lopsided grin, using your own words on you. “Are you embarrassed, princess?” He questioned, taking another step closer and reached out, his fingers gently brushing the tip of your chin, lifting just enough to get you to meet his eyes. “There’s no reason to be, I promise.” Fred spoke softly, his grin dampening into a gentler smile, one that was reassuring. “Besides, I quite liked you seeing me earlier.” He added. “Can’t say I hadn’t thought about it before.”

“Thought about what?” You asked, your throat dry as you looked up at him, your eyes fixed on his now that he’d finally managed to get you to look at him. “Me seeing you… Like that?” You asked. “Well, sort of. I think about you a lot, sweetheart.” Fred replied, not really giving you a straight answer, but the answer he did give sent a shock through you, your stomach flipping in the most pleasant way and for a moment you just stared at him. “Do you think about me?” He asked, his fingers gently moving up from your chin, his thumb resting against your cheek, brushing your skin delicately with the pad of his thumb.

Of course you thought about Fred. Sometimes it felt like he was all you thought about. He was impossible not to think about, especially when he was the perfect mixture of charming gentleman and absolute rascal. But you supposed that was what attracted you so much to him, that and his tall stature, the way he looked at you sometimes making you weak at the knees. Merlin, you wanted him to absolutely ruin you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t ever done anything sexual yourself before, you had, but Fred and George had always had a running joke about your innocence, that you just seemed too pure, too much like a sweet princess with the way you always became so shy and giggly and flustered whenever they teased and joked around with you, especially Fred.

“Mhm.” You could only hum, your eyes looking away from him for a moment as you tried to gather yourself a bit more. “Is that so, princess?” Fred chuckled softly, watching you tug your lip lightly between your teeth and he almost groaned, already very riled up from earlier in the day.

“I do, I think about you all the time, Freddie.” You finally got yourself together, eyes doe like and sweet as you looked up at him. Fred smiled, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he leaned in a little closer, his heart leaping when you leaned a little into him too, because besides from friendly hugs and leaning on one another, you’d never had much close contact with Fred and he wanted to hold you so badly. “Can I kiss you, love?” Fred asked, speaking so softly that it was barely above a whisper, his words brushing against you as he spoke and you nearly melted, nearly combusted because Fred Weasley had just asked you those words.

“Please, Freddie.” And your words were all he needed to close the gap between you and capture your lips with his in a loving, gentle kiss. He was slow at first, lips indulging in every feeling it sent through him to have your lips moving gently against his. Fred felt you press yourself up against his chest and his heart fluttered, unable to stop himself from smiling into the kiss as he his hands wandered, softly tracing over your skin and resting at your hip as he cradled your head with his other hand.

And as your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers dipping into his thick ginger hair, Fred groaned against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue finding yours. You felt warmth rush through you, the kiss pushing every thought, every lingering worry out of your head. Fred was not overconfident with his kiss, instead, he was gentle but still charming and you could just imagine the smile he was wearing as your lips moved against his, Fred’s tongue gently brushing yours.

Parting, Fred having kissed you breathless, you sighed softly as you pulled away. Your towel though, was forgotten and with your hands having rested over Fred’s shoulders, his chest no longer there to hold it up, the fabric fell into a pile on the floor. You glanced down, for a second to see it below you, shyly looking back up at Fred, who was fixed on you with a stunned look in his eyes. He made it quite clear, just from the way he was looking at you, keeping his eyes on yours that he wouldn’t look at your body unless you wanted him to.

But part of you wanted him to look, you wanted him to see you and your gaze softened from surprise to something almost lustful. “You can look, Freddie.” You whispered the words, Fred taking you permission, his lips parting as he finally looked down to admire you, his eyes wandering your figure as you stood in front of him. “You’re gorgeous, princess.” Fred complimented, his words making you smile shyly as he tentatively reached out for you, giving you ample time to tell him to stop. But you didn’t and you moved forwards into his touch, letting his fingers meet your bare skin, his fingertips gently brushing against your collarbone and Fred’s breath hitched in his throat for a moment as he took you all in, nothing but admiration and pure, sweet love in his eyes.

He looked at you as if you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, his eyes softened, he looked almost awestruck at the sight of you and his eyes slowly drew across you, unsure of where to look first. “I want you, love.” Fred spoke the words, eyes looking up to yours, waiting for permission. He was well and truly in love, he always had been, but seeing you like this, nude with that sweet, shy smile of his, he felt like he was really seeing you. Vulnerable, beautiful and Fred wanted to know if he could have you for himself like he had always dreamed. “Then take me, Fred.” The words passed your lips, Fred’s admission going straight to your belly, a little shiver of anticipation, of excitement rushed through you.

With your permission, Fred didn’t spare a moment longer, his hands gently smoothing over your skin to grip your hips as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Fred was in no rush as he kissed you, his fingers trailing upwards, thumbs gently brushing over your hardened nipples and he groaned as you moaned softly into the kiss at his actions.

“Let me take care of you.” He mumbled it softly against your lips, his warm touch gripping your sides and gliding lower until he reached the curve of your ass, squeezing gently. Moving lower still, Fred leaned down a little to pick you up and pull you into his arms, his eyes fixated on you as he carried you carefully to your bedroom and lay you down on the bed.

Beginning to remove his own clothing, Fred caught the way you looked at him the way you had earlier, lost in your own little dreamy haze as your gaze trailed over his bare torso as he let his shirt slip off his arms and fall to the floor. And as he pushed his trousers off, his boxers going with them, Fred was glad he caught the way you gently bit your lip at the sight of him, your reaction going straight to his hardened cock.

“Can I taste you, please princess?” Fred asked, gently pushing your legs upwards. “Please Freddie.” You nodded, lips parted as you let out a little breathy moan as he parted your legs, kneeling down between them. He held your gaze for a moment longer as he dipped low, close to your aching core as he parted your lips with his thumbs, watching as you gasped at his warm, gentle touch.

Swiping his thumb over your clit tentatively, he watched your reaction to the small touch and it made his length twitch as you watched him with pleading eyes. Finally, Fred leaned in, his thumbs exposing your bud for him as he pressed his tongue against you and began to work you up. “Oh fuck, Fred.” You whined out at the contact, your hand reaching down to hold him there, your fingers sliding into his hair as Fred circled your clit, building up his intensity as he played with you.

His gentle movements became a little faster and within moments Fred had you writhing and moaning at his touch. His tongue flicked against you and you shyly cast a glance down to him to see Fred looking up at you with hooded eyes, savouring every second of pleasuring you. “Is it good, princess? Am I making you feel good?” Fred asked, his thumb taking over and circling your clit as he spoke to you, making you whine at the difference in contact. “Freddie, god, you’re so good, please don’t stop.” You whined, too caught up in pleasure to worry about being shy with your words.

Smirking, Fred leaned back in, taking your soft bud between his lips and gently sucking, flicking his tongue over you. Your soft moans, the way you panted when he did something to make your knees quiver, it felt as if Fred could cum just at the sight of you blissed out with pleasure under his touch. Releasing you, he slid his tongue over you and flicked his tongue over your clit relentlessly, watching as your hands gripped the sheets in reaction.

Fred worked you up and up, so high that you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you. Looking up to watch you as you climbed, now teetering on the edge of your orgasm, Fred loved the way you looked like this, spread out for him and falling apart from his teasing, from his soft touches.

“Are you going to let go for me, princess?” Fred asked, his hot breath against your aching core before pulling you clit back between his lips and flicking his tongue quickly against you. “Yes Freddie, please.” You whined it out, panting and moaning as he brought you to the edge and saw you over into your euphoria, the orgasm pouring through you, trickling like warm honey through your senses as you came undone beneath his gentle touch. His name was a cry on your lips, eyes teary as the haze clouded over you, every muscle, every sense relaxing as you came down from your climb, Fred gently bringing you back down with soft touches.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, watching you, his best friend orgasm from his touch. It was better than he had dreamed and he hoped as he slowly climbed up the bed, holding himself above you, capturing your lips with his for a slow kiss, that taking you, making you his would be as amazing as he had imagined. Fred couldn’t deny, he’d had vivid dreams about you, waking up in a flustered, panting state with beads of sweat on his forehead, George thinking he’d had a nightmare, when in reality it was the exact opposite. The sound of your moans, fabricated in his mind, he could have only imagined how you sounded when he teased you, but now that Fred had heard you, now that he’d seen the way you crumbled for him, he knew he’d never get enough of you.

“Make me yours, Freddie.” The words were sweet and almost melodic as you hummed them out in your gentle voice. The haze seemed to settle over Fred too, his eyes unable to leave yours, unable to look away, you were just so perfect to him and Fred was unsure he even deserved someone as absolutely wonderful as you, but he was grateful that you wanted him, that you needed him, because you were all he really needed too.

“I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” He said it lovingly as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses in a trail against the warmth of your neck. “My princess.” He hummed the words out, heavy in his throat but coming out as a light whisper, one that made you moan his name to him and Fred hoped he could always hear the way you said his name in the heavenly way that you did.

Gently, his length pressed against your core, allowing himself to slide through your folds, pressing against your sensitive clit and you gasped at the contact, lips parted and eyes sliding closed and Fred watched as your lashes fluttered against your skin so beautifully. Guiding himself into your entrance, your moans met the air together in a beautiful symphony, your eyes opening to look up at the man above you as he slowly pushed in until he was in as far as he could go. He met your eyes, his expression swimming with complete awe, the feeling was like no other, no one else felt as perfect as this and Fred swore on the spot that perhaps you were always meant to be.

After a moment, Fred began to move, his thrusts gentle and soft at first while you relaxed around his size. Leaning in, Fred left tender kisses against your skin, worshipping you as he pulled out nearly to the tip and allowed himself to sink back into you slowly, his head tipping back as he let out a low moan at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” He said the words only semi coherently as he began to move a little faster his thrusts slowly speeding up. “So perfect, you take me perfectly.” He mumbled, the words falling from his lips, his eyes closing as his hips met yours with a gentle slap of your skin against his, your moans filling his ears.

“Freddie,” You gasped his name out, his eyes opening at your voice to look you in the eyes. “I need you.” The words were desperate, but Fred knew what you needed. “I’m here, princess, I’ve got you.” Fred spoke softly, his hands pressing yours against the mattress, your fingers intertwining as he thrust heavily into you, pulling a whine from you as he positioned himself to best reach the spot that made you gasp. “Oh god, Freddie.” You gasped, closing your eyes for a moment as you basked in the pleasure of his thrusts, gentle but firm as he sped up, dragging moan after moan out of you with each stroke.

“Come on, darling, can you cum for me again?” Fred asked, working you up with his gentle words, contrasting so heavily with the way he was edging you closer, his length stroking you faster towards your release. “Please, yes Freddie.” You were lost in your own haze, barely able to string a sentence together as he worked you closer and closer, his thrusts speeding up more and more.

Fred held in his own orgasm as he drew closer, wanting to see the look of euphoria wash through you again, just once more for him and as he watched you, your hands gripping him tightly your moan higher pitched as you reached your peak and your orgasm rushed through you in a heavy warmth, your walls fluttering around Fred as you arched your back into him. He was sure he’d never see a more beautiful sight than you coming undone beneath him. “That’s it, sweetheart, there you go.” He whispered, your orgasm sending shockwaves through him as it brought Fred his own release, the feeling of you squeezing him, pulsing around his as you moaned his name out, fingers clinging onto him as you came down.

Looking into your eyes as he followed you, he saw the stars in your eyes, you looked at him as if he was everything to you, because to you, he was and for Fred, you were everything to him too. His thrusts stuttered as he came and his head tilted back, letting out low grunts as he worked himself through his orgasm, your gentle touch reaching up to cradle his face as he came down slowly, savouring every feeling, every moment spent with you.

You lay your head on Fred’s chest as you both came down from your orgasms, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heart beat gentle as he calmed, his soft touch trailed over your delicate skin. “Please stay with me, Freddie.” You broke the silence and Fred clocked the worry in your voice, the worry that told him this all might have been a one time experience. But as he gently rolled over onto his side and reached up, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek, Fred smiled sweetly to you. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, sweetheart.” He said, his smile growing as he watched you gave him a shy little giddy grin at his response.

“I love you, my sweet princess.” Fred hummed the words out softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I love you too, Freddie.”

And for once, you were both thankful for it being a laundry day.

Taglist (OPEN):

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred x y/n #the weasley twins #weasley twins #weasley twin imagine #weasley twin fanfic #weasley twins imagine #harry potter #fred weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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headaching · 3 years

Note

more titanic au?? 👀

Azula scrutinized Sokka with squinted eyes causing uneasiness flashed across his face. “For the record,” she jeered, “next time you want to stage an accidental falling, maybe keep your boots and jacket on.”

Sokka shot a panicked look at Zuko, who only shook his head. Sokka sputtered, “We…We were…”

“You don’t have to answer to her,” Zuko told Sokka apologetically.

“I don’t really care,” Azula snapped. “In fact, I think it’s sweet you made a friend.” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t dare look at Sokka. “I’m just saying, you might want to get your story straight.” She winked at Zuko before turning on her heel. Zuko’s blush was furious and so quick it sickened him. For that, he was thankful Sokka stood behind him. “Are you coming?”

“Leave without me,” Zuko growled, and she cocked her head in his direction.

“What if you get lost on the way there, and there isn’t a third-class passenger to guide you back?” Azula’s voice was both sharp and cold, cutting and dull.

Zuko conjured his most menacing tone and said, “Azula, stop talking. Leave. Now.” Slowly, Azula’s head straightened, and she walked away without a word. Zuko watched her go, slightly impressed with himself.

When Zuko turned back to face Sokka, he was lacing up his boots. “I’m sorry about her,” Zuko apologized, and Sokka looked up from his shoes to grin at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sokka said as he finished tying his laces. On went his jacket, and he turned toward the water while he adjusted it. His gaze remained on the ocean as he leaned his elbows against the railing. “I’d like to see you tomorrow,” Sokka announced, not a demand, but a wish. Zuko approached Sokka, though he maintained a good distance from the ledge.

“You will, at dinner,” Zuko replied, and noticed his own rapid blinking. Sokka shot him a playful look over his shoulder, then turned around and occupied the remaining space between them.

He stood an inch or two taller than Zuko, and his head bowed forward. Though Zuko’s head tilted upward, he was only brave enough to stare at Sokka’s lips, which were full and soft-looking and slightly parted.

“I meant besides dinner.” This was the closest they’d been face to face without the impending threat of treacherous death, and the air seemed harder to take in because of it. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Sokka added, and Zuko noted a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“No,” Zuko croaked, “I do.”

Sokka smiled. “Okay. Meet me here tomorrow, say, two o’clock?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a date.” Sokka’s voice was quiet, but it rang through Zuko’s ears and spiked his blood, churning it hot through his veins.

As Sokka turned to leave, Zuko found himself saying, “Sokka, wait,” with an outstretched hand. It suspended in the air with his index finger pointed at Sokka’s chest. Sokka’s eyes darted from Zuko’s hand to his eyes inquisitively. Zuko straightened his fingers to offer Sokka a handshake.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Zuko said formally with a stiff nod. Sokka laughed, and a few strands of hair fell around his temples. For an isolating moment, Zuko felt like an idiot, until Sokka’s hand closed around his. They shook hands with a firm grip, and it seemed to last longer than a usual handshake.

“Thank you for not jumping,” Sokka murmured, and stilled their hands, but didn’t pull away. The fingers on Sokka’s opposite hand caressed Zuko’s wrist, and Zuko tried to remember if he’d ever been touched so gently.

Eventually, Sokka stepped back, and their hold was broken. He slipped his hands into his pockets and eyed Zuko, then exhaled through his nose in a quick laugh.

“Is something funny?” Zuko asked reflexively, then cleared his throat at the sound of his raspy voice.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Do you always have to know all the answers?” Sokka teased, and Zuko crossed his arms. Sokka had no idea how few answers Zuko actually received, or how long ago he gave up the pursuit of seeking them.

Zuko couldn’t manage a response. He realized he was shivering; he must have left his coat on his chair at dinner. Sokka noticed, too, and questioned, “Are you cold?” He didn’t wait for Zuko to answer before taking his jacket off.

“No, I don’t need—” Zuko began to protest through chattering teeth, but was interrupted by Sokka draping his jacket across his trembling shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” Sokka dismissed quietly, practically affectionate. He pulled the opening of the jacket closer together in an attempt to insulate Zuko, then placed both hands over his crossed arms when they were exposed to the cold air despite the effort.

As Zuko watched carefully, Sokka unfolded his arms and brought Zuko’s clenched fists to his mouth. Sokka exhaled a heated breath onto Zuko’s hands, while his own drifted down to cup Zuko’s elbows. Their eyes met, honey and pale blue, and neither averted their gaze.

Zuko imagined breaking one hand free to caress Sokka’s cheek, and when Sokka’s lower lip just barely brushed against his finger, the fantasy morphed into one where they were kissing.

Zuko’s heart raced at the possibility of gliding his fingers along Sokka’s toned bare arms, the nape of his neck, the sharp angle of his jaw. Maybe Sokka’s hands would hold Zuko’s waist, draw him in, entice him to step closer. Sokka’s jacket might plummet to the deck floor if their hands were frantic, or stay perfectly in place if the embrace was slow and peaceful.

Though Zuko had little romantic experience, the image of kissing Sokka was easy, dangerously so, and the possibilities were endless.

“Zuko?” brought him back to reality, where Sokka’s hands had shifted. Sokka seemed to be holding him in place with a firm grip and one foot braced forward. Zuko blinked and noticed his fingers had fallen from their clenched position to grip Sokka’s forearms. He considered pulling away, but stayed still.

“I’m sorry. W-What happened?” Zuko’s face was smoldering, and he desperately wished to conceal it.

“You checked out for a second, then seemed like you were gonna fall,” Sokka explained, and though he sounded concerned, Zuko detected a smirk on his face.

“Oh,” Zuko mumbled, and looked away pointedly.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Sokka asked, the happy traces in his face replaced with worry. Zuko sighed, inwardly cursing his inability to play anything cool. “I mean, you just had a near death experience. Of course you’re not okay.”

“That wasn't my first near death experience,” Zuko replied before thinking better of it. His throat constricted when Sokka’s eyes flickered to his scar, but he found solace in the gentle squeeze Sokka gave his arms. Sokka looked down and nodded slowly. “I’m just clumsy, like Azula said,” Zuko added, gratefully getting him to crack a smile.

“I’d hesitate to take anything she says to heart,” Sokka laughed, and Zuko breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sokka stared at him for a moment with a twinkle of amusement still in his eyes, then said, “Maybe I should walk you back, though. You seem out of it.”

“You have no frame of reference,” Zuko retorted, and though his voice was agitated, Sokka took a small step forward, somehow still possible with their close proximity.

“Not yet.” His reply was an easy, clear indication that he intended to find out. Zuko focused on the dreaded task of evening his breath, but his mind inevitably wandered to their hold on one another and how it still had not ended.

“Not yet, but not tonight,” Zuko said eventually, as gently as he could. “My father will be expecting me soon.” Sokka nodded, and glanced at their arms pointedly, then back into Zuko’s eyes with raised eyebrows. “I can walk myself,” Zuko scoffed with an eye roll. He took the opportunity to remove Sokka’s jacket, but a firm hand halted his own.

“Keep it,” he insisted, and Zuko shook his head.

“I don’t need your jacket,” Zuko responded stubbornly, but drew the garment closer together in an attempt to disguise his shivering.

Sokka’s eyes glanced down, and somehow, the grin that spread across his face left Zuko wishing he could disappear and never leave Sokka’s sight all at once. “You contradict yourself a lot,” Sokka noted. Zuko decided disappearing would be better.

“And you’re infuriating,” Zuko muttered, his eyes on the deck.

“Is that any way to thank a kind stranger for his hospitality?” Sokka teased, and Zuko brushed past him with a hard jab of his elbow.

“Thanks,” Zuko said sarcastically.

He grinned to himself when Sokka yelped, “Ow!” followed by an airy laugh. When Zuko reached the gate, he glanced over his shoulder past the fabric of Sokka’s jacket to give him a smug smile. Sokka’s laugh faded into a closed-mouth dreamy grin complete with squinted, glistening eyes, and for that Zuko’s nerve was almost wasted.

“You’re not a stranger anymore,” Zuko said quietly, unfamiliar with the flirtatiousness of his voice. Sokka’s face fell, but with a focus that made Zuko wish he could read his mind. “Goodnight, Sokka,” he mumbled and turned away before Sokka could notice any further blushing.

“Goodnight, Zuko,” Sokka called after him. “See you tomorrow.” It was much quieter, and so light Zuko wondered if the wind had tricked him. Before leaving the gate, Zuko stole one more look to find Sokka splayed across a bench with his hands padding the back of his head. He looked up at the stars with a peaceful grin.

After watching Sokka longer than Zuko would have cared to admit, he finally left the deck. As he entered the interior of the ship, the warmth of whirlwind excitement began to fade. The farther he got from Sokka, the more he wanted to turn around, occupy the space next to him on the bench, and outstretch luxuriously with his palms resting under his head. How simple it would have been, to watch the stars.

To be free.

send me the title of a wip for an excerpt!

#thank you anon mwah mwah #zukka #zukka titanic au #zuko #sokka #azula #zukka fic #becks #my work #asks #anon

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Telling the Truth

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, but also Magneto and Peter father/son interaction!

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others finally defeat Apocalypse, just to end up stranded together until a way home can be devised. During the wait, you get to clear up some things with Peter on your feelings for him. Yet all goes sideways when Peter finally works up the courage to tell Magneto the truth about being his son.

Notes: For those that know the movies by heart, I made some more changes closer to the comics obviously. You’ll see.

Warnings: Some cursing, especially during the impromptu therapy session of Magneto and Peter unleashing their emotional baggage.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

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You didn’t know what you felt anymore. In a way it was like being outside of yourself. Just watching from somewhere far away even as you were pouring every ounce of strength you had left into your hands, blasting Apocalypse’s shield over and over.

You were trying to cause even the slightest, tangible bit of damage to him, just as Magneto was, just as Scott was. And yet, even with the three of you giving all you had, the monster had already gathered himself up again. With just the movement of one hand, he’d thrown Hank violently to the side when Beast had gotten too close while trying to help you all.

And only moments after Hank’s unconscious body had come to rest, Scott had faltered as well. In exhaustion, he’d finally had to close his eyes, pulling his glasses back down as he’d staggered backward. Then with another flick of the wrist, Apocalypse had all too easily slammed the boy into a building, the wall he hit then swelling out to cover and encase him like some living horror.

You could still hear Scott screaming even as you realized Apocalypse had now turned his attention towards you. With his every step closer, that numbness grew within you. You were too weak to fly away now, after all the energy you’d thrown at him, you were barely still standing.

But you could see the irritation in his expression. It was obvious that he couldn’t understand your loyalty to one another. Why any of you would be fighting this hard, just to die.

He kept reusing the same tricks, but they were effective. As the earth shot up around you like tendrils on a vine, you couldn’t break free. As quick and flexible as it was, it only felt like concrete wrapping all around you. It pinned your arms to your sides and wrapped around your legs, chest, and throat.

With a clenching of Apocalypse’s fist, it all drew tighter. And when your energy field finally gave out, the last of your shielding went away with it. As that light faded, the pain of being slowly crushed exploded through you. But you couldn’t scream when you couldn’t even breathe.

Apocalypse would have Xavier. That was all he wanted, then outright ignoring the straining of Magneto in the sky above him, Erik desperately trying to still do anything on his own now.

But as your sight blurred and your senses faded, it was the most surreal thing, you could still recognize Jean’s silhouette as she also moved out into midair.

Yet it wasn’t her, at least not as you knew her. Somehow that thought had still floated through your dying mind, before the world exploded all over again.

Even without being powered up, you could feel that surge. Like a pressure wave of pure, raw force. It seared across everything, hot and burning. But like a warm fire, for those far enough from the center, it only revitalized them. Hank was awakened suddenly, soon enough breaking the pieces that held you and giving you a chance to breathe again before he ran on all fours to also free Scott.

And yet for Apocalypse, someone far too close to that center, and the real target of Jean’s fury, the only option was to burn.

You were on your knees as you still tried to catch your breath, but you all knew opportunity when you saw it. She’d broken through his shield, torn through his armor. But even as his flesh seared away, it was still trying to heal back just as quickly.

Magneto had impaled him to the spot with multiple steel bars as soon as his shield had fallen, but Apocalypse was a coward. As soon as that tide had started to turn, he tried to flee.

Hank called out, “He’s getting away!” As Apocalypse tried to teleport, an energy shield rebuilding to close around him.

Even digging as deep as you possibly could, you only had enough left to make a large orb from one palm. That white light encasing just one of your hands rather than your whole body as you realized you had to make this last shot count.

And just as you thought you were not going to have another opening to get past his shield, lightning began striking down right on top of him. A hole broke in his field with the force, the white haired girl from before surprising you all with a sudden change of allegiance.

You threw your orb at once then, controlling it to come right through the opening she had made. It exploded directly against Apocalypse’s head and neck, further blasting away muscle and bone that no longer had time to heal under all the combined attacks.

But it was still Jean who dealt the killing blow. With one final powerful surge of her energy, screaming, she erased the last of him. His body broke into only ash under her red aura. It spread into the sky all around her, like wings of flame before extinguishing at last.

You were still waiting for some final confirmation that it was really over though, that you’d won. After a few moments of only the sound of the receding wind, and the sand lightly blowing past with it, it was like a collective acceptance at last.

You fell back with a large exhale, exhausted as you laid onto your back in the dirt. In the sky, you could see Magneto and Jean hover back to where Xavier was, no doubt to check on him now. You could only imagine if Magneto would soon be apologizing to his old friend, or not, for his part in all this.

But you didn’t rest in your silence for long. As you heard footsteps, you turned your head enough to see Hank’s clawed feet approaching. But he wasn’t alone. He had Raven on one side and Peter on the other, Peter more so the one he was propping up with that broken leg.

“Raven wants to go see Charles,” Hank said by way of some explanation, awkwardly helping Peter sit back down beside you as the other winced in pain. “I need you two to stay here while we see if there’s any medical supplies intact nearby, and while we try to figure out how on earth we’re going to get home now.”

While Hank spoke, you thought Raven might have still been giving you a kind of odd look. As if she was trying to make sense of something. You could assume what, after the abrupt display between you and Peter before. But you were just too tired to feel anything other than relief right now that everyone was still here at all.

“Okay,” You said, maybe just to check that you could talk, as much as your throat still hurt from being squeezed earlier. But the two older mutants were then gone just as quickly. Hank had picked up Raven, jumping over to the exposed second floor of the building where the Professor and the others were.

Peter was unnaturally quiet afterward. At least for a while before he finally looked down at you. “So holy shit, right?”

You glanced up. That phrase really could reference about anything that had happened today. You smirked tiredly. “Could you be a little more specific please?”

“I mean, your friend just vaporized that dude.” Peter answered, waving one hand. He couldn’t stop from being animated even if he tried it seemed, even when injured. “Did you know she could do that? Like damn, we could have been done an hour ago.”

You tried not to laugh. It’d hurt your ribs too much if you did. “No. I’d say she didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Well, I know who not to piss off,” He said, before going quiet for a bit again.

You still hadn’t been around him all that long in actual length of hours. But for all you’d now been through since first meeting at the mansion, it seemed like this morning was lifetimes ago. And you could sense that his mind was churning with something else he actually wanted to say.

You looked up to him again after a while. “You okay?” You asked. Which probably was still a bit ironic for you to question, as even though he had the broken leg, you were also the one laying in the dirt, too tired and hurting to properly sit up.

It still took him some time to respond though. Which told you he actually was trying to weigh his words somewhat before speaking. But when they did finally start to come out, he was still pausing and hesitating. “I’m, um, first of all, sorry about the whole surprise kiss there. I figured you’d just slap the crap out of me or something. But I thought we were going to die too, and I...I just-”

He was looking at the ground now, like there would be some answer there that would help him verbalize what he was trying to say. “I know I screw up a lot and let things go that I shouldn’t let go I guess. I already flaked out with the whole reason I came up to your house this morning, the whole Magneto thing. And I didn’t want to do that twice, not telling someone the truth again all in one day just because I was being chicken shit. You’re just really cool, and you know...I just wanted you to know that.” He looked back at you at last, as if trying to judge if any of this was making sense at all.

It did and it didn’t of course. You didn’t understand at all what he meant about why he came up to the house in the first place, or anything about Magneto. But you didn’t want to question on that when he was already making himself vulnerable with the main point you thought he was trying to make to you at least.

“Peter, I kissed you back remember? I mean yes, there was a lot of stress involved. But it doesn’t make it a mistake.” Now you were the one perhaps putting too much optimism in your thoughts here, and taking a risk. “Maybe it just made it happen a lot sooner than it naturally would have. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want that, you know, eventually.”

Again, you’d only known each other for a day in real terms. Of course it was too much. But everybody had to start somewhere, right? You had no idea what a serious relationship could be like though, you’d never had one. Just awkward first dates that never became second dates because it was always just weird. You didn’t feel anything that way for those people and it was always evident so quickly.

And yet here came this guy, dropped into your life like a bomb in a time of utter chaos and danger, and you thought you were now finally understanding why your friends seemed to go so crazy when they told you about their “crushes” at school. It was just something that clicked. You couldn’t put rational thought to emotions like this.

“So you wanted to kiss me?” Peter finally asked in a way that was somewhat silly to you, because of course you wouldn’t have done anything like that if you didn’t actually want to. And yet you couldn’t make any dry reply to that effect when you saw the honest expression on his face as he’d asked.

Was it really so hard for him to believe that he would be wanted? You were surprised, genuinely. Of course he was quirky and odd, well maybe a great deal odd. But for all the flashy appearance and smugness you knew he could radiate, did he not actually see his own worth?

You touched his hand lightly, as you sat up at last. It hurt, but he needed to see your eyes to believe you now. You knew this was important. “You’ve had me flustered since you first introduced yourself this morning. I’m not used to that, at all, so it’s really new. I don’t really know how it’s all supposed to work, or what I’m supposed to do next. But I can at least speak to how I feel. I want to be around you more, I want to be close.”

The physical and the emotional went hand in hand really. But, you’d both have to figure out your own comfort level on that. You continued, trying to put that into words. He didn’t owe anything to you. “You need to remember it depends what you want too though. I can like you with or without kissing again. If you just want a friend, that’s okay too.”

He chuckled, seeming kind of taken aback. “Hell...” He looked away a moment, running his hand through his hair. It was obviously a nervous gesture, as it only made it look messier. “I’d really be a pathetic boyfriend you know. Like, epically bad.”

“You think so?” You asked, trying not to press too hard, but also not wanting him to keep seeming like he didn’t deserve any of this kind of attention.

“I’ll annoy you eventually, you’ll regret it.” He kept on, a little bit quieter then.

“How do you know I’m not annoying?” You countered. Of course you hoped you weren’t, you seemed to get along well with the other students, and they ran the gamut of so many kinds of personalities. But really, how was it fair for him to assume any fault would only be his?

“Pfft.” He looked back to you. “You literally glow. It’s not even metaphorical. You’re like perfect, and-“

Did Apocalypse ding him in the head too? You were having none of that. “I’m nothing of the sort. And neither are you.” But you smiled before he could take that negatively. “And I’m totally good with that.”

He quieted again, just watching you for an awkward while, before finally responding. “I guess we can try. I mean as long as you’re admitting now that your taste in guys is really this bad and you won’t get mad at me later for saying I told you so.”

It didn’t seem proper to laugh, but he made you want to. “I’ll overlook you insulting the both of us. But yes, if you want to try, then so do I.”

“Okay.” He answered. Then seemed to realize the depth of this a little more. “Shit...didn’t expect to get mutant-napped by the government, fight a god, break my leg, and become a boyfriend all in the same day.”

“And rescue a whole mutant school,” You added.

He shrugged purposefully for effect. “That’s what heroes do, babe.”

The pivot from so self conscious that he could barely accept your attraction to him, to now wanting to brag again really was something to behold. You started to quip something back, but stopped when you saw his face go serious. He was now looking at something abruptly in the distance, so you turned your head to follow his gaze.

It was Magneto.

You straightened up as well, now fully sitting up before Erik landed in front of you both.

He was direct, speaking immediately. “It will still be some time before Charles’ little CIA friend can get her cohorts to arrange your transport out of here.”

You didn’t know if the distaste in his tone was more about Moira being a government agent, or just dislike to her presence here entirely, but he only continued. “And given that Hank has no idea how to field dress wounds without access to his full laboratory, I get that responsibility.”

Peter shifted, abruptly realizing the meaning then. “I’m fine,” He lied.

Of course he absolutely wasn’t fine. But clearly distrusting about whatever Magneto now had planned and the inevitable pain it could mean for him. Peter hadn’t moved his leg at all in the entire time you’d been sitting here together.

Erik only answered him sharply, “You need a splint before you do even more damage to yourself.”

As he then raised his hands, metal rebar started to drag itself out from the broken buildings all around you, leaving no question that this was no longer a choice for Peter.

It was hard not to think that just a short time ago, Magneto had been using that same kind of power to impale Apocalypse over and over again. And yet now he showed how controlled he could be, breaking the thin rebar into lengths that could run all the way from Peter’s thigh to just above his ankle, and even bending them slightly to match the natural curvature of the knee.

“Lift his leg.” Erik spoke.

You’d been so distracted with watching him work the metal, that it took you a moment to realize the command was for you. You looked briefly to him, then to Peter. You and Peter both shared the same nervous expression.

If you just used your hands, you felt like you would only hurt him, not being able to support his whole leg in a way that wouldn’t put more pressure on the break. But you also didn’t know if you’d rested long enough sitting here to use your powers at all either.

Someone as intimidating as Magneto standing over you both impatiently certainly didn’t help.

But if it meant less discomfort for Peter, you’d at least try. You lifted both your hands, facing your palms towards Peter’s leg while focusing as best you could. Normally what would have been fairly simple now took a good deal of effort in your still drained state. But a faint white glow did start to move across his leg, eventually covering it from his hip all the way to the end of his foot.

Once enveloped, you raised just your fingertips, lifting his entire leg gently, just high enough that Magneto could place the metal bracing around it.

You heard Peter make a small sound of pain as Erik had circled other metal strips around the longer ones that ran parallel with his leg, snugging it all into place. But beyond that, the unconventional first aid seemed to be successful. His leg was effectively now immobilized as you let it back down softly, the light fading away as you let go.

“I look like a Mad Max reject,” Peter commented absently, breaking the silence after a moment as he poked at the new metal contraption.

“You’ll be running and finding trouble again soon enough I’m sure. We still heal faster than the lesser species.” Magneto responded, but not all that surprising to you really that he would still find ways to throw jabs at non mutants even in an unrelated conversation.

What did surprise you was that when Erik had started to turn to no doubt leave again now that his task was done, it was Peter that stopped him.

“Hey, wait a second.”

You didn’t think you were imagining a new anxious sound in Peter’s voice either, and it bloomed all new nerves in you as well. What was it between the two of them? There had been confusing hints of something ever since you’d gotten to Egypt, but Peter had never elaborated to you. Not that he’d really had much chance either though.

But just because of who Magneto was, it was easy to imagine things taking a dangerous turn if the wrong thing was said or done, but you had no idea how to help when you didn’t even know what had Peter so focused on him.

You felt him touch your hand, like a physical desire for support, as he asked Erik in the most serious voice you’d ever heard from him. “Do you remember a woman named Magda Eisenhardt?”

Magneto went rigid, and you froze as well. Very suddenly you were wondering if the others could still see you from here. If they were paying you any mind at all right now. But the only person here fast enough to actually get away from Erik, was here beside you with one wing clipped essentially. There’d be no escape.

“How do you know that name?” He’d turned fully back to face you both, eyes locked on Peter.

By the way Peter had seemed to pause his breathing, he wasn’t immune to the sense of threat either, but he still answered. “Well she goes by Maximoff now. She’s my mother.”

You felt like a helpless bystander watching some kind of disaster unfolding in slow motion. The frightening look in Magneto’s eyes versus the way Peter was now almost squeezing your hand painfully. The mental gymnastics your mind was now going through were chaotic. Did Magneto do something to Peter’s mother? Were they enemies? Was this some vengeance quest?

But if any of that were true, why on earth would Peter confront him now? With both of you already injured with not a chance to survive or defend against someone of Magneto’s power?

Whatever frightful things were burning through Erik’s mind as well still silenced him long enough for Peter to speak again though. And it all came out then.

“I was too afraid to tell you earlier, but I guess I’m just ripping the damn band aid off everything now. She told me about you. How she left because she was afraid of you too. But she didn’t tell you about being pregnant. She went to the states, changed her last name and had me. Me and my sister Wanda. Twins. But I didn’t know any of that about you when I busted you out of the Pentagon those years back. I didn’t know who you really were. That you were the guy I thought had just run off, or maybe you were dead. I didn’t know my father was in a damned plastic cell less than ten fucking miles away all those years when we had nothing!”

A chill went through you. The anger in Peter’s voice towards the end only added to the shock as you were forced to process everything at once. This was why. God. Just...shit.

You were all silent after that. For an unbearable amount of time there was silence.

When Erik finally did speak, you heard the anger in him too, but it was different. There was a raw pain in that, something so extremely deep coming out of him now. His fist was clenching. “She was right, boy. If it’s all true, then Magda was goddamn right to do everything in her power to hide you from me and to try to put an ocean between us back then.”

With a little horror, you could see the smallest fragments of metallic debris starting to quiver along the ground. His emotion carrying over into the environment now.

“I did remarry after I escaped Washington and went back to Europe. We even had a little girl. Anya.” There was the slightest sheen of wetness in his eyes, even though sheer anger was the only look still coming from them. “They killed them. My wife. My daughter. The humans killed them because of who I was!”

He gritted his teeth, and you could plainly see a couple tears escape his eyes then before disappearing back behind the sides of his helmet.

“They would have done the same to you and your sister eventually. To Magda too. She knew she’d be caught in the crossfire even when I didn’t. She knew what I really was.”

“It doesn’t make it right!” Peter’s voice surprised you as it broke, uneven and just as emotional as he yelled back at Erik. But he looked down again afterward, his hand trembling against yours. “I’m sorry what they did, that was our little sister too then. But you can’t just lie to someone their whole life. My mom shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me! I could have helped you...maybe it could have been different. Maybe we-”

“It would have been the same result.” Erik said coldly. “Because I would have been the same.”

With that he flew off abruptly, completely out of sight before Peter cursed under his breath, looking defeated. “Goddamnit. He really is an asshole...”

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe to try and comfort him, but then hesitated. There was so much to digest on both sides here. “I think he might just need time to cool off...” You finally said, as delicately as you could.

“Correct.” The Professor’s voice popped into both your heads then, leading you both to glance towards the broken building where the others had been, to now see they were all standing on the edge looking towards you.

“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Xavier continued. “But you were getting quite loud, both verbally and mentally, and I wanted to make sure you were safe as I had instructed the others not to interfere.”

Peter sighed, maybe a bit embarrassed at the audience, but also still clearly unused to having anyone in his head as he replied aloud. “That’s so damn weird. Guess you’re good now then?”

“Getting there, thanks to all of you.” Xavier answered with a slight amount of humor, “But helmet or no helmet, I don’t need to read Erik to tell you that he’ll be back. His anger is only towards himself, not to you. You did the right thing by letting him know the truth. He’ll come around.”

There was another odd feeling of amusement from the Professor after a moment though. “In fact, knowing how possessive Erik can be, I dare say you may get more than you bargained for, Peter, in parental attention. Good luck to you too, (Y/N). Though I’d think he’ll approve of you once he realizes how much you genuinely care about his son.”

You stared, knowing Xavier couldn’t see your ‘are you for real/horrified’ expression from this distance but that he’d definitely feel it.

You saw Raven make an exaggerated gesture of a thumbs up from way over there and Peter laughed tiredly. “We’re totally screwed aren’t we?” You sighed and he just leaned into you, teasing. “See? Too early to say it yet? Nope, it’s not. Told ya so. Told ya so. Terrible choice of a boyfriend, babe!”

You put your head on your knees as he rubbed one of your shoulders. You mumbled numbly. “I just want to sleep for sixteen hours.”

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.7)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,118 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: This is more fluffy smut. I needed some buffer before the next drama drops!

Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve was gone when you woke up. Probably for the best because you were still a little on edge about the name issue. Stretching, you looked at the clock. He left very early apparently because it was almost 6:00am now. You kicked the covers back and got out of bed.

Picking up your phone, you saw a text from Elisha. She wanted to see you and visit your place.

Texting Steve, you asked, Can I have someone over?

He did not respond for a few moments as you sat there waiting for the three dots to show up to show he was typing. Exhaling disappointed, you decided to go take a shower and tried to enjoy the warm water. When you got out and got dressed, he had still not responded.

A friend. Elisha. Not a john.You sent, hoping to clarify if there was any doubt about your intentions of having someone over.

That seemed to do the trick because he responded almost immediately as you walked towards the kitchen to make breakfast.

Soon. Get settled in first.

Sighing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter and went back to grabbing eggs out of the fridge.

<><><>

They had not visited for a couple days and you had enjoyed the solitude to be honest. No schedule, no one else taking up your space. You were standing in your kitchen in a lounge bra and your underwear, eating a bagel you had just toasted.

It was later than normal than you would wake up. The blame could lie at the feet of the fact you had stayed awake to the wee hours of the morning binge watching videos on your phone.

You noticed your phone light up as you took another bite. Chewing, you leaned forward, seeing it was Tony.

Get ready quick. We’re going to go get your cat.

You only sat there for a second before your face broke out into a smile and then you shoved your bagel in your mouth, finishing in a rush. It was short notice, but you were excited about the cat for one but also to get out of the apartment. You had been in here for a damn week.

Rushing to your room, you threw on some casual clothes. You stopped for a moment in front of your mirror and sucked in your bottom lip. Should you have something a little sexier on? You debated for a few seconds before you waved it off; this was to get a cat, not give a lap dance.

Tony arrived not more than thirty minutes later, and you were pacing, ready for him in the living room when he let himself in.

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you. You asked, “What?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before, that’s all.” He dragged his eyes down and snapped them back up to meet yours. “The fit is nice.”

“Glad to know my outfit is approved. You’re also wearing jeans. Are we going?”

Tony chortled, “Impatient. After you.” He followed you out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Terrence was waiting in the hall and he asked, “Who is driving you today, boss?”

Tony told him, “I’m driving.”

Stalling your stride, you looked at him shocked. “You’re driving?”

“Yes, why do you look shocked? I can drive,” Tony told you, his arm slipping around your waist as he led you to the elevator. “I’m an adult, I have my license. I assure you.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you drive yet.”

“Seems like today is having a lot of firsts already.”

His car was waiting out front, one of his people keeping a watch out on it. They moved away as soon as they spotted him coming out. Tony came over to the car, opening the passenger door for you.

“A two-seater convertible?” you asked. “Really? You think the cat is gonna like that? Or me for that matter? Having to hold the carrier in my lap?”

Tony gestured you in, “Get in, baby. I’ve got someone following us.” He threw his hand up behind the car to the black SUV parked behind. The person who had been standing by the car was sitting in the driver’s seat. “They’ll bring the cat back with them. Enclosed space. I’m not a sadist. I just wanted to have a fun drive with you.”

You refrained from commenting about wasted gas as you did as he asked, him closing the door behind you and coming around the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat, adjusting his jacket.

“It is a nice car,” you admitted, buckling in. “What is it?”

“An Audi,” Tony said pressing the start.

“I saw that. I’m not an idiot, Tony. What model?”

Tony smiled at your scorn. “I know you’re not. A Spyder.”

You frowned, “I’m not sure I’m fond of that name—”

You yelped as he pulled away from the curb, shooting off into the road. Tony laughed amused at your reaction at the sudden movement.

“Oh, love, just wait until we get out onto the highway,” Tony smirked. “I’ll show off this engine for you.”

<><><>

“It’s pretty, but the hair,” you commented as Tony pointed out a Persian cat at the shelter.

Tony eyed the cat closely as you moved on.

“Oh my fucking god!” you said excitedly, coming up to the next cage to a cat already pressing its head against the gate for pets.

Tony came up next to you and said, “So what was that complaint about hair…?”

“Yeah, but this is a Maine Coon! A mix, but still.” You saw he looked confused, and you said firmly. “I want this one.” Tony rose his brows now, giving you a challenging look and you pressed, “They’ve got great personalities! I had one as a kid. They act like dogs but they’re just big ass fluffy cats! And look, it’s a Tuxedo!”

“The hair,” Tony repeated. “My suits. You know, I’m really rethinking this now…”

“You cannot tell me you brought me in here just to not take one home. That would just be cruel.”

Tony smacked his lips and said, “You’re right. Carry on. No white hair though.”

“She doesn’t have white hair. It’s browns and greys,” you pointed out as you continued petting the Maine Coon. “Look at the little marking on her forehead! And she likes me! You can’t leave her here now!”

He stared at you for a few seconds before closing his eyes and exhaling. You held back from bouncing on your heels, knowing you had broke him. You turned back fully to the cage and stuck your fingers back through, her brushing her head against your head in earnest.

“You’re coming home with me,” you told her excitedly.

<><><>

On the way back home, your arm reached across, your fingers tip toeing up Tony’s thigh. The wind was whipping around the two of you as he sped down the highway. You saw that the SUV had lost the two of you a while ago since Tony had kept passing people, weaving into the left lane to jerk back into the right lane around curves. The danger was hot and you wanted more.

Your fingers brushed his crotch and he shot you a quick look, shaking his head. You pouted and he said loudly over the wind, “No.”

“Have you ever had road head?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

You shrugged, “Just thought you would like it!”

“Yeah and if it’s on a drone or helicopter cam somehow – cause if you haven’t noticed, there’s no roof on this car – that I had some woman going down on me on the highway? How am I gonna explain that?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to grow a conscience, Tony.”

That drew a grin out of him, shooting you a mischievous look. He cleared his throat and pressed a button, giving a bit more space between his lap and the steering wheel. Second time breaking his resolve today. It did not seem to take much when it came to you.

Unbuckling yourself, you leaned over the middle console working on his zipper. You pulled his cock out of his jeans, running your hand up and down it sensually. He tasted like salt and sweat as you took him into your mouth, trying to help it along quicker. Tony groaned, and you felt him tense. You imagined his hands tightening on the wheel, trying to keep himself focused on the road.

“I gotta pull off,” he grunted.

This did not stop you from working your mouth up and down his dick. The car veered a little, into a highway pull off you concluded.

He pressed a button the steering wheel. He pulled you away from his dick, and blocked access. Or tried to. You moved down, running your tongue across his balls, flicking.

It was too much apparently.

“Give me 15 seconds,” he breathed at you, blocking you again from swallowing him. You kissed his hand, running your tongue up his fingers. His lips twitched despite himself and he cleared his throat roughly. He jerked his hand back, giving you a light, discouraging slap. You moved back then, and he leveled you with a look. Pouting, you laid your chin on his thigh. His hand came to run over your head before straightening up when a voice came over his speaker.

“Boss? Are you alright?”

“No, go on if you pass me. I’m pulled off. I’m fine. Just take the cat back.”

“It’s crying a lot because of the weaving highway.”

“I know it is, I can hear it.” That was not a lie; it’s whines were coming over the phone call. “I’ve got something to finish here though, so just go on. Like I said! I gotta go.”

As soon as he pressed the button on the steering wheel, he tapped your head. “Alright, resume, love.”

<><><>

When you got home, Tony encouraged you ahead; he needed to talk to Daryl really quick. When you got into the apartment, the cat was nowhere to be found. You took off, throwing your bag onto the counter, searching closets. You found her cowering under the bed up against the wall. You tried to coax her out with soft noises and holding your hand out but she just put her ears back, snuggling closer to the wall.

Tony’s footfalls came down the hall and you heard him come into the bedroom.

Pushing yourself up from underneath the bed, you came up onto your knees.

“She’s hiding,” you told him, standing up.

“Maybe try with the treats you bought later,” Tony suggested, his hands in his pockets.

You shrugged, “Maybe. She’ll come out for food when she’s ready. Probably when I’m asleep.”

You walked over to your closet and closed the door to shut off another place for her to go and hide. You wanted to be able to check up on her and limiting the spaces to search would help.

“Well, I have to go do some work today at some point, so, that’s now,” Tony commented and you turned back to him, finding him close. “You can get the letter box and everything set up?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” he said to you, giving you a peck on the cheek before turning away.

Suddenly, it came to you again, the last night with Steve. Maybe Tony knew, although a part of you was screaming at you to let it lie. But, despite your better judgment, you reached out, stopping his movement. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s Cecile?”

Tony looked at you with all shades of suspicious, his mood completely altered by the question. There was a dangerous underlying tone to his question, “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged, letting your hand fall from his arm, suddenly not interested based off his reaction to the question. “Never mind.”

“Why do you ask?” he repeated more forcibly.

Trying to be nonchalant, you said, “Steve called me it when we had sex last. It was just weird. He’s never done it before. It threw me off. That’s all.” Tony ground his teeth, watching you intently, not saying anything. You forced a small smile. “Really, it’s not a big deal. He did not seem to even realize he had done it. I was just curious.”

He obviously did not feel the same. Tightly he said, “I’ll leave you to help the little runt settle in.” He left you then in the bedroom without a second glance.

Something told you that you should not have asked about it and that was not where that conversation was going to end.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #mob boss tony stark #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!tony stark #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.14

Chapter Fourteen: Sunflower: Things are really looking up. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2k Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, but really just fluff

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A/N: i know i probably sound like a broken record, but thank you for your continuous love and support! i probably wouldn't have finished this fic series if it wasn't for y’all, and now we are almost at the end! after this chapter, there is only the epilogue left omg!!! also, shout out to @ellesgreenaway for the song suggestion that titled this chapter!

Spencer’s arms were wrapped tightly around your frame, reminding you without the use of words that he will never let you go again. His hot breath hit the back of your neck. It sent a gentle shiver down your spine causing you to flutter your eyes open. As you adjusted to the bright morning hues, you could feel his heart beating against you and a sleepy smile circled your lips.

There was no better feeling than waking up next to Spencer.

With him by your side, greeting the day was easy. It came slow and relaxed, as if the universe was commanding you to bask in this comfort for just a little while longer.

This is what harmony really felt like.

The second you stirred in your comfortably warm spot, and turned so you could admire the sleeping man next to you, he also opened his eyes. A smile instantly graced his features.

“Good morning, doctor.” You whispered and leaned over to peck his soft lips.

“Hmm... Good morning, how did you sleep?” The handsome doctor asked, his hand travelling to your face and brushing away any signs of sleep. You swayed into his touch like a magnet before replying; “Would you believe me if I said it was the best sleep I’ve had in months?”.

Spencer chuckled airily, his hand still caressing along your cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I definitely am flattered.”

“As you should be, doctor.”

In a split-second, his lips slanted over yours in one of those open-mouthed kisses, tender yet extremely passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, as he pulled you in as close as it was humanely possible. It always amazed you how your lips fit so perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

After what felt like a glorious eternity, the brunette doctor slowly drew away. He placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before rolling onto his back, one arm draped beneath your neck and hand resting on your shoulder.

“What would you like to do today?” Spencer asked, looking up at the ceiling. You contemplated his question for a moment, but before you got a chance to answer, the sound of your phone ringtone caught your attention.

Sitting up, you reached over to the bedside table and quickly answered the incoming call, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” Penelope breathed a sigh of relief on the other line. “We were all worried sick! I even stayed with Tara last night just in case you came back here.”

“I’m okay, don't worry guys.” You replied, glancing briefly at Spencer who has since gotten out of bed. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and exited the bedroom to give you some privacy.

“Well, you’ll get a talking to about not calling or texting later. But for now, how did it go? Tell me everything!” She asked and you couldn't help but giggle, “It went well, Pen. Like really well.” You replied.

Garcia squealed. “AHH! I am so happy for you, sugar plum! You and our lovely resident genius are just meant for each other. A match made in heaven!”

The smile gracing your features grew wider by the second. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out in the end.”

“Like I knew it would! Now, you get back to whatever it is you were doing and I’m going to update Tara with this wonderful news. Should I tell her she needs to start looking for a new roommate?” She teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Firstly, nothing untoward is happening.” You began, but Garcia was quick to interrupt you,“Riiight... I’m gonna pretend like I believe you, honey. Love you, have a great day and we can catch up on Monday.”

“Love you too, Pen.” You giggled back before the call ended.

Gradually, you scrambled out of bed and with a light bounce to your step, you joined the hazel-eyed doctor in the kitchen - where the smell of freshly brewed coffee overpowered your senses.

“So, how much trouble did you get in?” Spencer teased, as you rested your body weight against the counter next to him.

“Surprisingly, none at all.” You replied with a shrug. “She’s happy for us.”

Spencer glanced at you briefly, a smile circling his lips. “That makes two of us.” He stated in a low tone and you blushed ever so faintly.

“I forgot just how charming you can be, doctor.” You reacted, earning yourself a kind-hearted laugh. The melodic sound caused your heart to flutter, and you proceeded to tilt your head up and attach your lips to his.

The kiss was short and sweet, reminiscent of many you’ve shared previously. When you pulled apart, Spencer handed you a cup of coffee, and the two of you made your way to his couch.

“Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do today?” He asked before pressing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Well, we’ve a lot of catching up to do, doctor.” You replied, throwing your legs over his lap. “I honestly wouldn't know where to start.”

“Y/N, we’ve our whole lives to make up for lost time.” He retorted, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of growing old with him. “Let’s just take today to enjoy each others company. The sun is out, maybe you want to go for a walk? Or we can stay in and watch a movie?” He suggested.

You took a quick sip of your coffee. “We could actually do both of those things today, doctor. And if you’re good, I can even cook us dinner later.”

Spencer smirked. “If I’m good?”

You nodded, a stupid grin plastered across your face.

Truth be told, you had forgotten just how effortless everything was with Spencer. Your mind was continuously flooded with memories of your time with him. Even when you were apart, you’d get bombarded with thoughts of how uncomplicated the most menial tasks were with him. Although those memories didn’t compare to the serenity you were experiencing right now. Nothing compared to living in the moment with him, again.

The day you spent with Spencer had an unsurprising natural flow to it.

The brunette doctor first drove you to Tara’s, so that you could shower and change out of the pyjamas he lent you. While he waited for you to get ready, he enjoyed a conversation with Tara and Penelope. A conversation about the diamond ring he still carried with him everywhere - but that wasn't for you to know.

The four of you enjoyed a nice breakfast before the girls waved you off for the day. Spencer took the liberty of choosing the park for your walk. Hand in hand, the two of you looped around the paths for hours. Hours of laughing, chatting, and reminiscing. Hours of pure unfiltered joy.

Next stop on the unspoken agenda was the grocery store. Arguably one of your favourite places to go to, especially with the handsome doctor. While you picked out what you needed, Spencer guessed the ingredients of each item you placed in the metal cart. It was no surprise he was always correct, but honestly, that almost made the game more fun.

Back at his apartment, he helped you unpack the bags and proclaimed himself your sous chef. You wanted to protest, tell him to sit down and to let you cook alone, but Spencer wasn't having any of it - “My kitchen, my rules.”. The statement earned him an eye roll because you were sure the last person to actually cook anything proper in his kitchen was you, years ago.

With his... assistance, it took about three hours to make a simple recipe. And once you were finished, the kitchen looked as if a tornado had passed through it.

“Looks like we’ve an evening activity lined up.” Spencer joked, analysing the mess around, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“Can’t wait.” A detectable hint of sarcasm in your voice.

The two of you ate in congenial silence - the first one of that day. It didn’t bother either of you, however. If anything the moment proved just how comfortable and at home you felt around one another.

The move to the couch after dinner was effortless. Spencer picked a movie, one you’ve both seen before so you could cuddle up to one another and talk about random topics without worrying about missing the plot.

It wasn’t until Spencer’s phone rang that you realised how disconnected from the outside world you’ve both been all afternoon.

“I’ll grab it for you, doctor.” You quickly jumped up on your feet before Spencer could do anything. You briskly shuffled around the sofa until you reached the coat hanger by the front door. As you searched the pockets of his jacket for the phone, your fingers brushed against something else.

The ringing stopped when you retrieved the item.

“Spencer, what’s this?” You asked, brows furrowed together.

The brunette doctor turned around. His gaze travelled to the small box you were holding up and he swallowed his breath. Shit. He completely forgot that was inside his jacket, which was ironic considering his eidetic memory. Not to mention the fact he’d been carrying it everywhere he went.

Spencer immediately jumped up from his seat. He appeared in front of you in a flash, his hand wrapping around yours and the box.

“This is definitely not how I envisioned this moment. But then again, when it comes to us, nothing ever goes as planned.” Spencer began, looking into your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but ehm, I’ve known I wanted to be the man you marry since before we even started dating. You’re the most patient, caring, loving, and not to mention beautiful person I’ve ever met. I am extremely lucky to have you in my life.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears as Spencer continued, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. The journey you and I have been on so far is more than your average couple goes on. Which proves that together we are extraordinary.”

He took a deep breath before retrieving the box from your grasp. He slowly got down on one knee and proceeded to open the small box, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. I understand that you may not be ready to take this next step with me yet, therefore this is more of a promise rather than a question.” He licked his lips, fighting back his own happy tears as yours trailed down your face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me, one day?” Spencer asked and your heart soared at the question.

“Of course, yes. Yes, yes, yes! Yes!” You squealed, holding out your hand. The hazel-eyed doctor didn’t waste any time to put the ring on your finger, a goofy smile visible on his features. He then stood back up and kissed you with all his might, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.

“I would marry you in a heartbeat, doctor.” You mumbled against his lips.

Effortlessly lifting you off the ground, Spencer spun you around. The two of you laughing uncontrollably, basking in the love you were both experiencing. Your fingers tangled in his brown hair, as he trailed sloppy kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

“I love you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before pulling back to look at your face, his hazel gaze locking with yours. “I love you too.” You exclaimed in a hushed tone and pecked his lips.

Gently, he lifted your hand to admire how the ring looked on your finger. His lips twirling upwards even more, as if that was even possible. Both of you felt as if you were on cloud nine.

This is what the rest of your life felt like.

I promise I'm the one for you Just let me hold you in these arms tonight

A/N: ahhh we’re almost at the very end, i can’t believe it!! as always i’d love to hear your feedback! thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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#champagne problems series #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid story #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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frobin · 3 years

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Okey serious question here. How much do you actually believe that Oda ships Frobin? Like do you think he actually have like doodles/sketchs of them in a pairing kind of way? like for the strong world film riding the motorbug? (Personally i would love it to be true but he has stated one piece isn't about romance in that way)

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for your question and I hope I can answer it seriously enough. Also once more sorry for the late response. I felt like a question like that needs some research and that is what I did these last few days.

So... I think I'll start with the tl;dr because that way people can read that and ignore the rest.

So, long answer short: I 100% believe that Oda has one or more sketchbooks with drawings of his characters that are absolutely self-indulgent. I am 98% sure that he has drawn Franky and Robin in a romantic way at least once (and supported the ship). I am 80% sure he still is shipping FRobin.

Little disclaimer: I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I pull everything in my arguments out of my own experiences and knowledge and since I'm not a 46 year old Japanese Mangaka my perspective might be WAY OFF.

argument - reason- example - conclusion... behind the cut (or in the google doc)

So, why do I think that Oda has a secret sketchbook?

Simple answer is that he is an artist. He is drawing a lot and no artist will publish everything. That can have multiple reasons like imposter syndrome or because the artist thinks it’s not good or interesting enough or they just forget. There are even more reasons I forget and every person has their own.

For Oda I can imagine two big reasons as to why he would keep secret sketchbooks.

First: He is a horndog. You can skip this part if you don’t want to read about it, to the second reason.

Anyway, we know thanks to answers in the SBS, the way he likes to draw big-breasted women and how some of his characters are classified as perverts that he can be considered one too.

Let me show you a few of a few lewd SBS questions he likes to answer in a funny way:

Chapter 228, Page 46

D: How are ya, Odacchi? I know how much you like getting butt-naked, so this must be a favourite season for you. <3

O: Yes, yes. I just LOVE getting completely naked. In the summertime, after I take a bath I just run STRAIGHT OUTSIDE!! And when the girls' softball team running on the sidewalk looks over at me, they say, "Yup, it's really summer now!!" ... AS IF!! I'D GET ARRESTED!!!

(x)

Chapter 433, Page 68

D: If Lady Robin can use her Hana Hana Powers to make any part of her body sprout somewhere else, does that mean she can do it with her ample bosom as well? "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Boy, I'd like to take a hit from that sometime... P.N. Ero Ero no Mi Devil Fruit User.

O: "Ichirin-zaki" (Single Sprout) "Nirin-zaki" (Double Sprout) "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Very clever!! NO IT'S NOT!! STOP THAT!! I'm sure she CAN do it though ♡

(x)

Chapter 798, Page 64

D: Oddachi, I'll give you a pornographic book, so please answer my question. Sanji won't allow anyone to waste food, but what will he do if a woman does so? P.N. Smoker's Cigar

O: I think he would grab the plate and eat it up. Now please give me the pornographic book.

(x)

Nowadays I’m sure there is a focus on those lewder questions compared to the beginning because that is what 13 year old boys laugh about and we all know that is Oda's main demographic (of course).

I think a very good picture of that is given by Tekking101 in his breakdown video of SBS Volume 100.

youtube

“Let’s get diving into these questions (...) now, this is a huge moment. I mean, not many Manga manage to reach 100 Volumes, Okay? Now I know Oda usually starts these off with questions relating to boobs and things that don’t really… you know, aren’t really relevant but you know, this is a big celebration so we’re gonna dive right into it. I bet the most important things that we need to know about the One Piece Story are right here in these pages, okay? I printed them out. That is how important this is. So let’s start off, shall we? Epic voice, Barry!

‘Mister Oda, there is a UFO over there with huge big-breasted beauties on it. That memorable 100 Volume of the SBS is about to begin.’

[pause] Yeah, like the first five of these are all related to boobs in some way. You know what Oda? Sticking true to your guns! Godspeed, Sir Oda. Godspeed.”

(end at around 2:30)

So, Oda is a man who likes beautiful women and who draws.

Coming to the conclusion that he will draw his own characters in suggestive poses, naked and even doing adult stuff is not hard.

Obviously he would not show these sketches just around. He would probably keep them in a secret sketchbook that he keeps at a safe location. Maybe his wife and some close friends know about it? Maybe it is his and only his little secret.

I don’t think it would be unlikely to learn about this years into the future, maybe the next generation of Anime Fans will hear about this.

And it would not be the first time that something like this happened.

Not that long ago the daughter of Osamu Tezuka - groundbreaking Mangaka, known for his works of “Astro Boy”, “Kimba the white lion” and many more - found his adult Furry art. Source; Japanese article;

It’s a fact that many Mangaka did indeed start their career with art of the more risque kind and/or as doujinshi artists.

So again, I have no doubt that Oda, a known pervert, has one or more secret sketchbooks with „the p0rnography“ in it. Is there only hot stuff in there? Not necessarily.

The second reason to keep a secret sketchbook would be to collect information in there, that could be considered canon but he is not willing to use it in the Manga. Maybe they are not important enough or will be used later.

What am I imagining here? Anything that could be considered too weird for the normal sketchbook but isn‘t too risque. Funny things that might still not be „appropriate.“

Like a sketch of the male Strawhat ding-dongs with the sizes beside it. All the lewd jokes the fans did about Luffy's stretching qualities? I’m sure Oda thought about them too and drew that in the past if he had the time and it made him laugh enough.

But also maybe there are scenes in there that never made it in the Manga. The Strawhats interacting with each other in their daily lives, ideas for colorspreads and maybe chapter-titles. Oda probably has noted/sketched down a lot of unofficial stuff somewhere.

Another example, even an artist like Oda himself would have needed to exercise drawing two people kissing. Why not use Characters he thinks that might work out together?

Why not Franky and Robin? I would imagine he sketched up a few panels of Franky and Robin having a romantic date, going shopping together in Dressrosa, having a conversation that we never got to see because it was too on the nose.

Which brings us to the second point of me being very sure that Oda had drawn FrankyXRobin at one point.

I’m sure in those sketchbooks there is at least one drawing of them doing anything couple-related together. Again it does not have to be downright nasty but it could be them holding hands, kissing or even just Robin leaning onto Franky while reading, like all those fanarts that exist out there.

It’s not hard to imagine. Even for other Characters I think that is possible

And there might even be proof for that idea. The sketch of the Strong World movie you also mentioned, anon. The one movie that can be considered canon is Strong World. It was basically written/directed by Oda. Shiki the antagonist had an appearance in the Manga.

This sketch is drawn by Oda. Robin is holding onto Franky.

Can it be read as romantic? Yes. Can it be read as Robin holding onto Franky because there is nothing else to hold onto? Also Yes. But couldn't she just have used her power to keep herself secured on the bike without holding onto Franky? WELL YES. Could Oda never have thought in these circles like I do right now? I hope he did not because I hate it and I don’t wish it upon him.

In the movie Robin is NOT holding onto Franky. Now the really interesting thing - that is neither proof pro nor anti FRobin - is that we can see the sketch provided by Oda as a “between the scenes”.

In the movie Strong World the old trio is collecting information at the Pirate assembly. The next time we see them they use the Batta GT-7000 to slowly approach the destroyed village, which had been ravaged by the animals, and start to look for their friends. No need to hold onto Franky and no need for Brook to lean back. They are looking around.

The sketch is clearly not the same scene as the one we see in the movie.

In conclusion the drawing is indeed a between the scenes drawing. And yes if there exists one, who is to say there aren’t more?

Talking about Animal-Bikes...

Is there any meaning about the fact that in the opening scene (that is part of the talked intro after the opening ‘We Go’ - a huge thanks to antiherofangirl, ccb0nnet, JFL_Estudios and Maems, over at twitter!) Franky and Robin build another grasshopper-based vehicle? Maybe not but I still feel like it’s quite a callback.

Where did the idea to put this in the beginning come from? a) an editor had the idea inspired by Strong World; b) maybe it’s another sketch that Oda provided.

Neither seems very far-fetched in my opinion.

So yes, I am very sure that Oda has drawn things that we would consider FRobin.

Now to the last point (the first being Oda having a secret sketchbook, the second me arguing that Oda might have drawn FRobin).

As I said in the beginning I’m very sure that at one point Oda did and kinda that he still does ship Franky and Robin. Because even though every Interaction of two characters can be depicted as romantic or platonic, Oda used ROMANTIC TROPES with Franky and Robin.

They have never kissed on screen but we had

finishing each other's sentences

coordinated clothes

one using the others lap as pillow

hand on cheek caressing

and we can’t forget that Robin had answered Franky's invitation to ride on another animal-themed bike with a heart.

Edit: I didn‘t say anything about „no romance in OP“ so ask again if you want me to talk a bit about that. Sorry!

Those are things an author of Oda's level would not write or draw without being aware about how teasing this is. He has to be aware that every single line he draws will be analyzed to the end of the universe and back. People earn money by saying their opinion and interpretations about the Manga on Youtube.

These interactions are not something outlandish like “There was once an Anime Scene in which Robin was wearing something blue and exactly 28 episodes later Franky was wearing something violet and then 39 episodes later they both stood beside each other for exactly 69 seconds.”

Whenever I think about these facts, things that are not about interpreting but are factual, black ink on white paper but also about the little things, about how Frank and Robin help each other to become better, how they support each other… I want to say YES! ODA IS 100% on board! While in reality I’m 80% sure and 20% of me is wondering if I’m not actually analyzing too much into it. If maybe he really is abandoning ship. Maybe I will become the person who will curse his name and throw my Mangas and fanfictions in an active volcano?

I don’t know and it’s impossible to say what is going to happen.

And with that I've concluded this answer, and it only took me around 2k words and four days.

#FRobin #One Piece #One Piece Meta #Odas secret sketchbook #One Piece analysis #Adult themes #Notreally Frobin #long post #2k words #ask #modpost #kon #boy this was something #sorry about any mistakes

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itsadamcole · 3 years

Text

handsome stranger

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

Drew has just moved next door to the reader and noticed her sitting in the window alone on Christmas Eve watching the snow fall ... "hi, i couldn't help but notice you were alone."

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: soft smut, some fluff, cute moments, idrk what else

— day fourrr. i’m doing good and trying my best here to get one christmas / holiday / winter themed imagine up everyday. feel free to send in any requests if you want one written —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You sit on the little window sill in your living room, holding a mug of hot chocolate in your hand. You watch as the snow falls from the sky.

Snow is so beautiful. Especially the fluffy white kind. It makes everything shimmer and sparkle, and it's the only thing that makes the holiday season bearable.

Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your arms are wrapped around your knees. You're wearing your comfortable Christmas pajamas, considering it is Christmas Eve.

Christmas music plays in the background as you remember the times you spent dancing with your fiancée in the living room, lit only by the fireplace. Now, you sit alone, with the only light coming from the fireplace.

It's been three years since he left, but it hurts knowing that you spent seven Christmases and seven New Years with him just for him to leave you for someone he met at the gym.

You watch as a silhouette walks alone in the snow on the sidewalk outside of your house. The silhouette stops at the stairs leading up to your house.

The silhouette walks up the stairs and as it gets closer, you realize that it's about six foot five with jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. You get up when the doorbell to your house rings.

After setting the mug of hot chocolate down on the coffee table, you walk to the front door. You open it, revealing a very handsome stranger. He says, "Hi, I couldn't help but notice ya were alone."

He has an accent but you can't put a finger on where it could be from. You lean against the door as you try to figure out what kind of accent he has and say, "It's not unusual."

"No one should be alone on Christmas," the handsome stranger says.

You blink and say, "You're alone on Christmas. Well, you were walking alone, anyway."

He laughs a little bit and says, "That I was. I like the snow. It's peaceful and reminds me a lot about Scotland."

That accent did sound a lot like a Scottish accent but you weren't sure. It has an American twist to it though.

"Scotland," you echo. "You're a little far from home."

The handsome stranger nods and says, "I am. I just moved in, right over there." He points to the house right next to yours. "I can't afford to fly back home this year because I just bought the house so I am also alone this Christmas."

You look back at your empty house and say, "I just made hot chocolate if you'd like to come in. Maybe we don't actually have to be alone this Christmas. It'd be a nice change actually." You move to the side.

He flashes you a kind smile and walks into the house. You close the door, rubbing your arms to warm them up. You walk back into the kitchen, pouring a mug of hot chocolate for your guest. "Would you like marshmallows or whipped cream?" you ask.

"Whipped cream sounds nice," he says. "Thank ya." You nod and put some whipped cream on top of the hot chocolate in the mug. You offer him the mug and he takes a sip.

The hot chocolate is more lukewarm than hot so he won't burn his tongue.

After he sips the hot chocolate, he has whipped cream in his mustache and on his nose. You giggle a bit and say, "Um, you have whipped cream on your nose."

"Oh," he says. "Do I?"

You smile and say, "Here. Let me get it." You grab a clean cloth off the counter and wipe away the whipped cream. "There. It's gone now."

The handsome stranger smiles down at you and says, "Thank ya."

You put the cloth down and give him a little nod before leaving the kitchen and walking into the living room to grab your mug. The nameless but handsome stranger follows you.

"I never caught your name," you point out as you turn to face him.

He laughs softly before saying, "I never threw it, but it's Drew. Drew McIntyre."

You smile and say, "Y/N L/N. How long have you lived here? I can tell you have an American accent mixed with the Scottish accent."

Drew sips his hot chocolate and says, "I've lived here off and on since the better part of thirteen years or so, since 2007."

You've sat down on the couch by this point. Drew joins you as you ask, "What do you do that keeps you in America?"

Hesitantly, he says, "I'm a professional wrestler for WWE. I'm actually WWE Champion right now."

"WWE," you echo. "My brother has always wanted to wrestle for WWE and has gone to every tryout but never got signed. He's in Ring of Honor and PWG right now. I've never been into wrestling. I'm more of a softball person. I played in college."

Drew says, "Maybe I get help get yer brother through the door in WWE. I might be able to get him signed to at least NXT but he's gotta prove himself."

You smile and say, "You'd do that for him?"

The handsome stranger nods as he takes another sip of his drink. "Yeah," he says. "I'd like to see him wrestle though so I know that he can actually wrestle."

"He'd love that," you say. "Thank you. I'll call him tomorrow."

Drew nods and says, "Of course."

You smile and take another sip of your hot chocolate.

It's quiet for a few moments before Drew asks, "What do ya do? Like work-wise."

"I'm a fashion designer," you say. "For Gucci. It's a job that I love and it's kept me sane in the past few years. I'd like to open my own shop one day."

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and says, "That sounds like a lot of fun. Ya must have a very creative mind in that pretty head of yers."

Your face heats up a bit and you say, "Yeah, you can say that." You let out a light laugh. "I try to be creative, anyway."

Drew looks at you for a second before an idea pops into his head and he asks, "Would ya like to design some new ring fer me? I've been needing some new gear and have never really found anyone that I'd trust enough to design some new gear."

You raise your eyebrows at the Scot and say, "You just met me and have already offered to help my brother get into WWE and now you're asking me to help design new ring gear for you? I don't know you well enough to design gear for you."

The handsome stranger says, "It's just an offer. Ya don't have to take it."

"I'd love to but I'd like to get to know you a little bit more before I design anything," you say.

He smiles and says, "I can agree with that. We have all night."

You smile and echo, "All night."

Honestly, you don't mind spending all night with Drew. All night with Drew is better than being alone. Especially on Christmas.

The two of you sip hot chocolate for hours. He explains his journey to the WWE, getting fired then working his way back to WWE, becoming NXT Champion and eventually WWE Champion. It's a long journey but his hard work paid off in the end.

You explain how you got into designing and everything. You always were into fashion and clothes. You majored in fashion design in college while minoring in business and accounting. You omit the part about having a fiancée and him leaving you three years ago.

Drew listens to every word you say and you answer every question he has. You do the same to him, and he answers every question you have for him.

After about two hours of sitting and talking, Drew asks the question you've been dreading.

"What made ya end up alone on Christmas? Don't ya have family?" he asks.

You sigh and say, "I lost both my parents when I was in college in an accident. I have no aunts or uncles or cousins. I have my brother but he's married with kids. I had a fiancée but he left three years ago so I've kind of just been alone on Christmas since."

He waits until you're done talking to say anything.

Once you've said all that you want to, Drew says, "Ya have just been through the wringer, haven't ya?"

You scoff a bit and say, "Through the wringer is an understatement."

Drew asks, "What can I do to help? I can't imagine how ya feel with it being Christmas and ya sitting here alone in this house."

You stare at Drew and say, "You want to help me?"

The handsome stranger nods and says, "Name it and I'll make it happen."

You think for a moment before you say, "Show me some of your matches. I want to see you wrestle. Distract me."

He smiles and pulls up one of his matches on his phone. You move closer to him so you can see easier. It's from Wrestlemania 36. Night two.

"This was when I won my title for the first time," he explains as both his and his opponent's entrances are made. "It's my favorite and the most important match of my career."

You watch as he wins the match and the title in about five minutes. You're a little distracted by the fact that he's wearing practically nothing.

Drew looks at you occasionally as you watch to see your eyes fixated on him on the screen, almost watching in awe. He smiles a bit.

Once the Wrestlemania match is over, he puts on the Royal Rumble match. You ask, "What's this match?"

"It's the match I had to win to face the WWE Champion at the time at Wrestlemania," he explains as it starts. "If I won, which I did, then I can challenge whichever champion I'd like. I chose Brock Lesnar and the WWE Championship."

You watch the long match. When Drew enters, you find yourself biting your lip. You can't help it. He's attractive when he's in the ring. He's attractive just sitting in a hoodie and jeans beside you.

Around entry number 25, you look up at Drew. He's looking down at you.

"You should show me some of these moves one day," you say quietly. His face is close to yours because of how close you are sitting to him.

He smiles a bit and asks, "Which ones?"

You meet his eyes and say, "The ones where you'd pin me to something." Drew's tongue swipes across his bottom lip.

Your heart rate has picked up as you get closer and closer to kissing the handsome stranger.

Drew's voice drops a tone and says, "Now, now, Miss L/N. We've only just met."

He just got a thousand times more attractive by doing that with his voice. Not to mention he's the most selfless human you've ever met. He's obviously very kind. He saw you were alone and offered to spend all night with you.

All this has happened in a span of three or four hours.

You tilt your head up and say, "I said to distract me." You bite your bottom lip gently.

"That's very true," he says, putting his phone down. The eye contact continues.

Drew licks his bottom lip again as the tension continues to build between the two of you. Your heart continues to race in your chest.

You have no idea what's about to happen but it's been three years since you've been this close to anyone. You won't mind whatever comes next.

Your voice has almost dropped to a whisper. "So," you say. "How about showing me some of these moves?"

Drew gives a little smirk before, in one swift movement, he gets you on your back. He's straddling your waist and pinning your wrists to the couch. You stare at him with wide eyes.

"Woah," you gasp.

He laughs a bit and says, "Ya did ask me to show ya some of the moves where I pin ya."

You say, "Mhm. I did ask you to do that."

Drew smiles and gets off of you. You sit up and face him.

An idea pops into your head and you literally pounce on Drew, pinning him on his back on the couch. You know he could very easily flip you over so you try to put all your weight onto him. All 130 pounds of you.

"Hm," he says. "Not too bad."

You giggle and say, "My brother did practice on me a little bit. Just a little bit."

He smiles and says, "I know a move that he definitely didn't practice on ya."

You raise your eyebrows and ask, "What would that be?"

Drew leans up and kisses you. You gasp a little bit before kissing him back.

As you share the kiss with Drew, he rolls so he's pinning you to the couch again. You stare up at him, pouting. "That's not fair," you whine. "I was distracted."

He laughs and says, "Ya told me to distract ya."

You pout some more as Drew looks down at you. "You can't just kiss someone then pin them to the couch," you say.

The kiss was something you haven't experienced since your fiancée left. Yes, you've kissed people since your fiancée said goodbye but none of those kisses felt like the kiss you just shared with Drew.

Speaking of Drew, he sits up and pulls you up with him. You throw your legs across his lap and look at him.

"Can I kiss ya again?" he asks. "So I can make it up to ya?"

You say, "You don't have to ask to kiss me, Drew."

Drew's lips come down to yours. The kiss is as soft and as slow as it was before. Hesitantly, you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheek.

That's when you feel the soft ache in your core from Drew pinning you to the couch. It was so hot. You could barely contain yourself when he pinned you not once but twice to the couch.

One of Drew's hands rests on your thigh extremely close to your core. You take his hand and pull back from the kiss. You both look at his hand in yours before you move his hand so it's resting on your core.

Hopefully, the handsome stranger can't feel how wet you are for him over your pajama pants.

"What do ya want, Y/N?" he asks softly, his accent thick. "Tell me what ya want."

You meet his eyes and say, "I want you to kiss me, touch me. I want you."

That's all Drew needs to hear before he pulls you onto his lap. You straddle his thighs and your lips are on his. You gently grind against him, a soft groan escaping his lips into your mouth.

Your hands snake up the front of Drew's hoodie. You find he's wearing just the hoodie on his upper body. You can feel his toned stomach and hairy chest. You run your fingers down his chest before you decide to pull off his hoodie.

Drew helps you pull off the piece of clothing. As soon as it's off, you press kisses to his neck and chest. His fingers run through your hair.

His fingers have found their way up the back of your shirt, pushing the fabric up. Nervously, you pull off your pajama shirt, fully exposing your upper body to Drew.

You watch as his tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he eyes your naked upper body.

This is very nerve-wracking. You haven't been with anyone since your fiancé left. This is the first time you've even been half-naked around anyone else.

Drew sees your hands begin to shake and he takes them in his. "We don't have to do anything, Y/N," he says, meeting your eyes.

"No I want to," you say, sighing. "It's just, I haven't been with anyone like this in years. It's making me nervous."

He smiles at you and says, "Ya don't have to be nervous, Y/N. I don't bite unless ya ask of course."

Smiling, you say, "I might just take you up on that." Your nerves begin to wash away as Drew leans up, kissing you passionately. His hands are on your bare lower back, pushing you into him and holding you there.

"Drew," you mumble. "Let's not make a mess on my cushions."

He pulls back and asks, "Take this upstairs?"

You nod. He picks you up as he stands up. You giggle and wraps your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You leave soft kisses on his chest as he carries you upstairs.

Drew asks, "Which room?"

You look behind you and say, "The door at the end of the hallway. That's my room."

He walks quickly to your room before he walks in, quickly but carefully dropping you on the bed. You sit up and start to undo his belt and the button on his jeans before you pull the jeans down.

Drew is straining against his boxer shorts. You look up at him with your eyes before you trace his erect member over the thin piece of fabric.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers before slowly pulling the fabric down. You watch as his member pops out of the boxers, slapping up against his stomach. Your eyes widen as you wonder how you're going to take all of Drew.

Drew runs his fingers through your hair as he stands in front of you. You glance up at him before you take him in your hand. You lick his tip before starting to take him in your mouth.

Slowly, you bob your head up and down, going a little deeper every time you go down. Your hands are on his thighs and groans escape his lips as you start to suck.

His fingers run through your hair as he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You groan softly as he hits the back of your throat. Your nails dig into the skin on his thighs as you move your head.

After a few minutes of this, Drew pulls himself out of your mouth. He leans down and presses a kiss to your saliva covered lips. It was a messy job that made saliva drip down your chin and cover your lips.

He pushes you onto your back and gets on his knees at the foot of your bed. Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants and panties before he pulls them off of you. You throw your legs over his shoulders as he kisses your thighs, moving closer and closer to your soaked folds.

You hold onto the blankets on your bed as Drew kisses your wet core. You sigh softly and arch your back off the bed.

Drew's tongue runs through your folds before he slips a finger into you. You moan softly as he pumps his finger in and out of you. He sucks on your clit and you moan louder, your hands finding their way into his long hair. You grip lightly as Drew adds a second finger.

"Drew," you moan. "Please."

He looks up at you with his eyes and asks, "Please what?"

You look down at him and say, "I need something other than your fingers. Please."

You pull lightly at his hair, wanting him on top of you. He smirks before taking his fingers out of you, making you whine slightly as you watch him step out of his jeans.

"Um," he says. "Protection."

Right. Protection. "Top drawer in the table next to the bed," you say. He nods and walks over to your bedside table. You move backward and sit up. Drew pulls a tiny shiny blue package out of the drawer, opening it up and sliding the contents on his member.

Drew crawls over to you and kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips as he moves, laying on top of you between your legs. He positions himself outside of you and pulls back from the kiss.

He looks down at you and asks, "Do ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I do. I really want this. I really want you."

After leaning down and kissing you again, he slowly slides himself into you. You moan into the kiss as he slides himself deeper into you.

Drew puts his hands on either side of your head and props himself up with his arms, breaking away from the kiss. You stare up at the Scotsman as he starts to thrust into you. You gasp and moan, gripping onto his arms and digging your nails into the skin on his arm.

His thrusts get faster and deeper into you. Your moans get louder and your back arches off the bed.

It's when he starts to slam into your g-spot you start to scream his name. Your hips chase his and your moans are loud.

"Drew!" you moan. "Don't stop, oh God. Please don't stop. Please."

You feel him start to get faster as your legs start to shake, being pulled closer and closer to your orgasm. You make a little 'O' with your mouth and Drew kisses your neck, marking it up a little bit.

Drew grunts and groans on top of you as his thrusts get harder. He continues slamming into your g-spot, making you moan louder than you have before. "God, Drew," you almost scream. "I'm close."

He mumbles against the skin on your neck, saying, "Come with me, Y/N. In three, two." Both of you release before he gets to one. You both moan out profanities and you moan Drew's name.

You lay on your back and catch your breath. That was amazing. You had no idea that Drew could do that.

A layer of sweat has formed on both of you as Drew rolls off of you, pulling off the condom and tying it off before throwing it away. You crawl under the blankets and Drew joins you.

"I never want to be alone on Christmas ever again after that," you sigh out, finally catching your breath.

Drew looks over at you and says, "Ya don't have to be. Next year, come over to my place and we can make a mess on my bed instead of you."

You giggle and press a soft kiss to Drew's lips, cuddling up to him and soon falling asleep in his arms.

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mari-beau · 3 years

Text

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FIVE -A Rogue One fanfic

I honestly don’t know this was going to take the detour it did, but hey, that’s fine. Anyway, Jyn is very confused about her attachment to Cassian, and his own messy feelings.

Also on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Five

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Implied Bi!Cassian; References to Naked Times in the Shower; Characters being hot messes and confused about Feelings

Words: 3,226

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The energy level in the large mess hall was an incongruous mix of highs and lows. Quite a number of people were congregated at various tables, but it wasn’t at capacity. Some groups were chattering away, with a happiness and lightness Jyn honestly couldn’t recall witnessing in anyone in a long, long time, on any planet or moon. But there were other groups, and individuals, that were quiet, lethargic, mostly just nursing cups of restorative drinks and pushing bland food around their plates. Hungover.

Jyn supposed that made sense. Either way, no one was really in a down mood. They were either still excited about the Great Victory, or suffering the consequences from being too excited about it the previous night.

Why did she feel like Cassian and herself were the mopiest pair in the entire mess hall? Yes, it was really gratifying to know that their suicide mission hadn’t been entirely in vain. They had more than succeeded, the plans had been transmitted to the rebels, and the rebels had used them to destroy the Death Star. But still… The feeling of loss weighed heavily on Jyn. And she sensed it was yet another burden laid on Cassian’s shoulders. In a vulnerable, pained moment, he’d told her that maybe it would’ve been better if she’d left him on Scarif when they’d miraculously been spared from the blastwave. And perhaps near the end there (what should’ve been the end), he’d embraced the release from his conscience as hard as he’d embraced her.

She understood. She’d felt the peace there on that beach, as well.

The thing was, she still felt it, with him. Even when filled with other confusing emotions, some of which he was the cause of, she still felt… content… even happy? Was this what happy felt like?

Well, no, maybe not this, not still half-mourning a father she’d lost decades ago but then lost again, mourning the loss of the friends she’d made in just a matter of a day but who had been truer than any others in her life, coming to terms with the guilt of leading so many on a suicide mission, which she then survived.

And Cassian had survived.

“I’ll get the food,” Jyn said after they’d found a table tucked in a corner and Cassian claimed the seat that allowed him to put his back to the wall. (Of course). Jyn would’ve chosen it herself, but she didn’t protest that she would be forced to sit with her back to the entire mess hall. He was rubbing at his leg. The memory of the surgical scars running down his hip and thigh, barely a week old, a fresh pink against olive skin, popped abruptly into her mind. She shoved them aside. “Is there anything specific you want?”

“No.” He was smiling even as he shook his head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not picky.”

“Me, neither.” Force, sometimes they were so much the same, their lives filled with the same sort of deprivation, that it hurt. It hurt to think of the little boy Cassian had been, not having a favorite food, because having food at all was something to be grateful for. Something Jyn had known herself, still knew, and would never unlearn her associated habits of eating too much (if given the opportunity) and too fast.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards the serving line.

A couple people stared as she added more than two helpings of everything to her tray, but she thought it was more out of shock over the disproportionate amount of food to her size than anger that she was maybe taking more than her share. By the time she’d collected enough to feed an entire unit of Wookies and headed back to Cassian, two humans in non-uniforms (which wasn’t uncommon for the rebels) had sat down at the table.

They were the type of people who took up more space than they needed. An amateurish attempt at intimidating others through establishing dominance. Jyn had learned to be more wary of those who drew no attention, who lurked in the shadows, who had unassuming appearances disguising a lethality the brazen could never hope to possess.

So it was really just instinct that had her assessing gaze passing over the two trying-too-hard-to-have-swagger rebels to the slight man sitting quietly in the corner. He was a killer, undeniably. But not by choice. And Jyn knew something she thought most didn’t remotely suspect; Cassian Andor was soft deep down inside. And every terrible thing he’d done tortured him. Which made him even more dangerous, especially to Jyn, who she feared may be the only one to have ever seen his vulnerability, his humanity. To everyone else, he was just some Rebel super-spy-assassin, a good little soldier.

He’d locked eyes with her, but neither of his companions had seemed to notice, instead going on about some miraculous feats of badassery during some mission or other.

“You’re in my seat,” Jyn said, interrupting the bigger of the pair mid-sentence.

The man who was easily twice her size froze, puffing himself up when he looked at her, not that he needed to with that bulk of muscle, but his first instinct was obviously to meet her firm tone with aggression. She knew the response of those who’d survived on the streets well. And even if this was no seedy back alley or dive, this was her territory. And she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.

“Am I?” Big man said.

Before Jyn could respond, Cassian’s quiet voice cut in.

“You are.”

The big man looked at the wounded captain and his entire demeanor changed. Apparently, the soldier knew Cassian for the dangerous creature he was.

After a brief moment in which the expression on Cassian’s face gave nothing away, Big Man’s attention returned to Jyn.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, vacating the chair. Setting the heavily-laden tray down, Jyn plopped into the spot opposite Casian as the big guy lumbered off to find another chair, seemingly to rejoin them. Ugh.

Jyn slid the tray across the table in front of Cassian, then dragged her chair to sit directly beside him. There was no way to lift any of the dishes off the tray without losing some of the impressive pile of food. They could share.

She reached across Cassian and grabbed some sort of bread roll and- oh, force, he smelled good, like the cleanser from the shower and freshly washed skin that was silky smooth except for the scars and- she shoved the roll in her mouth before she did something embarrassing like hop onto his lap and bury her face in his neck.

The very large rebel’s companion had remained at the table, and was staring. Yes, at Jyn, but also at Cassian, at the pair of them, at the pile of food she’d torn into but Casian was contemplating eating with an actual utensil like some sort of civilized person. And the man’s gaze dropped, but Jyn knew it wasn’t to assess her attributes, none were visible beneath the loose-fitting clothes she was wearing, Cassian’s clothes. Oh. Right.

“You must be Jyn Erso,” he said and held out a hand, which was surprisingly clean, so Jyn shoved the last bite of roll into her mouth and shook it. Firm but not too firm, and his dark brown eyes were surprisingly soft as they met her gaze, a little guarded and very curious. This one was obviously the more intelligent of the pair.

“That I am,” she said after swallowing the large piece of bread that threatened to lodge in her throat. “And you are…?”

“Oh,” he laughed self-consciously. He had a nice, easy going smile. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Tarrek Zin.” His large friend returned with a chair. “And this is Utto.”

The giant known as Utto nodded, grunted in response, before sitting down in the chair that was obviously ill-equipped to handle his bulk. A man of even less words than the spy.

“And you’re… friends of Cassian?” she asked, trying not to appear too interested. Who were these people? Cassian didn’t have friends. Not that she’d known him all that long, but she was pretty certain the man was a resolute loner. Aside from K-2SO, who was lost to him now.

“Yes,” Tarrek said at the same time Cassian said, “No.”

She withheld her laughter because Tarrek Zin seemed genuinely a little hurt by the terse captain’s response.

“We’ve worked together before,” Cassian gave as further explanation. “They’re…”

“Freelance,” Tarrek said.

Cassian gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s one way to put it.” He took a larger bite of the mystery protein.

“Oh, what does that mean?” Now, Jyn was intrigued. They were an odd sort to find on a military base, even amongst the ragtag collection of rebels that formed the Alliance. They were both human, Jyn thought, although there could be a bit of something else in the big man, who was surprisingly not unattractive for a bruiser type, with thick brown hair and a symmetrical face with a square jaw and only a small crescent scar on one cheek. The smaller man was by no means small, taller than Cassian, well built with flawless brown skin and a friendly, appealing face with just a hint of scruff neatly trimmed into a goatee. And a charmer’s grin, which he turned on Jyn.

“We find things.”

Again, that ironic little half-laugh from Cassian, who finally looked up from the pile of food.

“They steal things,” he said, pointing his fork at them. “Don’t let Tarrek try to pretty it up. They’re nothing more than thieves.”

“So’s your girl, from what I hear,” Tarrek said. “Didn’t you all find her in Wobani, serving time for forgery and assault amongst many other crimes?”

“She’s not my girl,” Cassian said, not denying her criminal record. And Jyn would be lying if she claimed the denial that she was his girl didn’t hurt a little. Even though it shouldn’t. She wasn’t a possession. And neither was Cassian, so she could stop feeling possessive of him, as well, really-

“Then you’re a free agent?” Tarrek flashed that charming grin of his again, with an edge of mischievousness. And a bit of something else in his eyes as he lookd at Cassian. “Because with the Empire scrambling after the destruction of their favorite new toy, no one’s going to notice if some stray things get found. We could use your skills on at least a dozen different jobs I can think of…” Tarrek shot a brief glance to Jyn before returning his attention to Cassian. “And Not Your Girl for that matter.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I will not be going on any jobs with you,” Cassian said. “Even if the Alliance thought we’d need someone with your skillset again for some reason, I’d find someone else.”

Oh, wow. That seemed a little harsh, even from the jaded captain. The hurt on Tarrek’s face was blatant, and he looked away. Jyn couldn’t help but think there was some sort of complicated history at play.

“May I…?” Utto asked, indicating the crispy poultry leg sitting near the edge of the tray, the big man oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Uh… be my guest,” Jyn said and large, burly fingers snatched it right up. Unsurprisingly, the whole drumstick fit in the man’s mouth. He ate even faster than Jyn, chewing a bit then pulling the bare bone out, picked absolutely clean in less time than it took Cassian to cut another bite off the brick of vegetable-thing or whatever it was. Food. That’s all Jyn needed to know.

“Well, we better get going if we want to get a good seat at the ceremony, seeing as we’re not guests of honor,” Tarrek said, seeming to have recovered from the hurt feelings enough to tease. Cassian made a displeased noise but said nothing as Tarrek got to his feet and locked eyes with the rebel captain. Some sort of weird exchange passed between them, that seemed almost- “The offer always stands if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said, then went back to studiously eating.

Tarrek rolled his eyes but then gave Jyn a broad grin, leaning over to whisper loudly, “You think about it, too, Jyn Erso. Maybe you can convince the captain here not to throw his life away for the rebellion.”

Jyn just gave him a nod, disconcerted about the man’s extremely accurate knowledge of Cassian. Or maybe his unwavering loyalty was just that obvious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tarrek said to his large companion, who appeared about Wookie-size when he stood up, only beefier.

Utto lingered a moment as his friend walked away, and Cassian frowned at him, that furrow forming between his brows. Jyn’s curiosity was also piqued as the moment stretched out awkwardly long, Utto’s fierce blue-grey gaze scouring Cassian’s face.

Cassian broke first, dropping his fork onto the tray with a clatter and sighing loudly.

“You have something you want to say, Utto?” he asked.

“You hurt Tarrek,” he said. “Don’t change your mind about joining us. Unless you mean it.”

“Understood,” Cassian said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Utto glanced at Jyn, then gave Cassian another assessing look before grunting and shaking his head, then stalked off after his partner.

Cassian returned his attention to the food in front of him, like nothing had happened at all.

“What was that?” Jyn asked, her mind racing, trying to put everything she’d just witnessed into some sort of context.

“Nothing,” Cassian said. “Just two of many I’ve pissed off.”

“But they’re angry because they want you.” Jyn was pretty sure about what she’d just witnessed, albeit confusing.

“The Alliance used them to break into an Imperial facility. We were after intelligence stored there. Tarrek and Utto made out like the bandits they are by stealing the tech stored there and selling it on the black market. It was their most lucrative job ever. They still pick up odd smuggling tasks for the rebellion, but they want me to help them with more heist like that again.”

His face was closed off, but Jyn needed to know if she was right, needed for Cassian to continue to let her in, needed his trust and confidence.

“I get that,” she said, “but they want you… like physically. At least, Tarrek does.”

Cassian met her gaze, slowly closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“I never should’ve kissed him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained both the heat and the chill in Tarrek’s gaze when he looked at Cassian. Apparently, it hadn’t been just one-sided. And maybe she’d been reading Cassian’s looks, the way he touched her, all wrong. Maybe the intimacy they’d shared in the shower, naked but not uncomfortable, washing one another with tender caresses, had only held sexual undertones on her side. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him. Maybe he- “You er… kiss males?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “When it’s necessary to complete a mission.” He licked his lips. “Sometimes just because I want to.”

Jyn stared at the pile of green puree of what she hoped was a vegetable of some sort, trying to swallow down the stupid feelings clashing inside of her; jealousy and possessiveness, hurt, and even a little bit of titillation contemplating Cassian’s sexual history.

Long fingers skimmed the back of her hand and curled around hers, squeezing gently until she met those rich, dark eyes of his.

“Sometimes I kiss females, too.” He held her gaze so she resisted the urge to stare at his mouth.

“When it’s necessary to complete a mission?”

“And just because I want to.”

Did he want to? Jyn felt like he did, thought everything in the way he looked at her indicated a deep affection and need for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t, not here in a public place, not when he hadn’t even kissed her when they were alone. Not even when they were naked, standing under the spray of water, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing out the cleanser, her hands wrapped around his waist, helping to support his weight, her skin prickling with the closeness of his body, the caress of his fingers on her scalp, the feeling of his-

“We should get moving,” he said, releasing her hand to push his chair back and stand, looking only a little unsteady on his feet. “We need to find you some clothes that fit.”

“Why?” Jyn said, standing as well and brushing her hand over the front of the loose shirt. At least Cassian wasn’t an extremely large man, or else his clothes would fall right off her. As it was, she’d had to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and tuck as much as possible into the fatigues that she’d belted to cinch in at the waist, which would’ve been entirely hopeless if he wasn’t a lean man. She’d also had to roll up the hems to her ankles. She had no other option than the infirmary shoes. Okay, she looked ridiculous. But she didn’t care. The clothes smelled like Cassian and made her feel perpetually wrapped up in him.

“It’s not exactly fit for being presented to a princess.”

Cassian reached to pick up the tray, which Jyn felt a little bit of guilt for not having completely cleaned of its contents and wasting food, but there had been unforeseen interruptions. She grabbed it before he could, doubting his ability to walk and carry a laden tray a few days after major surgeries and with bones still healing. But had he said,

“Princess?! What princess?”

“Princess Leia will be hosting the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Jyn headed across the mess hall to bus the remains of their meal, perhaps moving a little too quickly for her wounded companion, a sort of panicky nervousness fluttering in her stomach as their potentially being the center of attention approached. It would be brief if they were, she tried to tell herself. The last time she’d been the center of the Alliance’s attention hadn’t gone well. Had, in point of fact, ended in a rogue suicide mission.

“You’ll be fine. She’s Bail Organa’s daughter. Sensible woman. Fierce.”

Jyn shoved the tray into the reclamation unit a little harder than necessary. “And how do you know her?”

Cassian laughed, light and genuine.

“I don’t know her, not personally.” His hand went to her shoulder, seemingly to guide her but she knew the request inherent in it and snaked her arm around his waist to let him lean a little of his weight on her. “Let’s see if we can track down your missing clothes.”

Jyn didn’t care if they couldn’t. Let the princess see her in Cassian’s clothes, let everyone think they were together. Because whether or not he kissed her, whether or not it was romantic, Cassian Andor was hers. Even if he sent her away and she never saw him again while she lived, he would always be hers.

Force, she needed to get a handle on this possessiveness. Because it owned her. He owned her.

His palm came to rest on the back of her neck as they left the mess and headed towards the storage and supply wing of the base. His thumb stroked along her nape and she leaned into him, relaxed as a Savarian cat being petted.

Dank farrik, did she ever belong to him.

#fic: give me a reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #Cassian x Jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #my fic

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Kit and Ty’s reunion (Fan Fiction) - Part 7 - Let’s kick some Cohort ass

Title says it all. Just because I needed to see some Cohort ass get kicked. My kind of therapy. Characters based on Cassandra Clare’s (TSC) though I created one for the plot. Three years after TDA.

The two following days passed in a blur. Kit was returning to his bedroom after training one evening when he saw a package left on his bed. He opened it and emptied the content on his desk. There was a folded note and a necklace. Kit felt a jolt of uneasiness as he recognized instantly the whitish-green pendant with the Chinese characters carved into it. Even though he had only learnt a few Chinese words from Jem, and didn’t know how to read them, he knew exactly what the characters meant. When two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.

It was the pendant Jem had offered Tessa over a hundred years ago, when he had proposed.

With a growing sense of dread, Kit opened the folded note and read. We hold someone you love. If you want to see her again, meet us at the following address. Alone. If you warn the Clave or anyone at the Institute, we will know. And what you’ll find there will be her dead body. The address printed at the bottom of the note seemed to be in a residential area, a 30 minutes’ walk from the Institute.

A flash of memories went through Kit’s head. Tessa smiling indulgently at him as he made yet another one of his bad jokes. Their banter about books and movies. Tessa carrying a giggling Mina and staring at Jem adoringly, as he was making faces to make them laugh. Tessa singing to Mina - loud enough for Kit to hear – the song his mother used to sing to him. Well, the mother who had given birth to him. Tessa was also his mother now.

When he snapped out of his daze, he was fully dressed in Shadowhunter gear. Thankfully, he always kept weapons in his room and was now heavily armed. He didn’t pause to think as he walked to the window and started escalading straight up to the Institute’s roof. He would not go through the corridors and risk being followed by someone at the Institute. He had noticed the way the Centurions sometimes seemed to suddenly appear out of thin air when he thought he was alone.

Perched on the Institute’s roof, he felt grateful for all the training Jace had put him through. He now knew that, as much as Jace could jump from unexpected, impossible heights, so could he. He had even trained to jump out of a Malachi configuration. Theoretically. Jace had smiled conspiratorially at the time, telling him it was a talent that could always prove useful.

He drew two runes, Heightened Speed and Surefooted, sparing a glance, as he always did, at the Voyance rune at the back of his right hand. He only paused to take one deep breath before jumping from the roof and landing gracefully on the ground. He murmured a silent thanks to Jace and almost wished his mentor were there for a high five.

He made it to the location in short time, although it seemed like hours to him.

He tried to circle around the meeting point, but it appeared empty. Just when he thought about doing another round, he heard laughter coming from an alley surrounded by two brick buildings. He peered his head. No one. He started as he heard a creaking noise behind him. Spinning toward the sound with his sword raised, he saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away.

It was one of the Centurions who had been assigned to his security. The Swedish blond girl, Kiersten Lindquist. She held a finger to her lips, hushing him, and slid silently next to him.

“It’s a trap” she said low in his ear. “I have sent Anush back to the Institute for reinforcements. I’ll distract them and you run. Don’t – and I repeat it – whatever you do, don’t let yourself get caught. It’s you they want. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.”

“But– Tessa…”

“She’s fine” snapped Kiersten. Then, more gently “please don’t mess up our plan.”

Wait– Kit thought, there was a plan?

Before he could ask, a dozen Shadowhunters – and it was plain they belonged to the Cohort - were circling them. They were calling themselves the Imperishable Order, now. Same shit, different name, thought Kit.

“Hey Barbie girl” drawled one of the Cohort members. He looked very familiar. “We have no quarrel with you. We just want the Herondale Faerie-slut. Leave us be and we will not harm you.”

“Manuel. I see you haven’t changed” said Kiersten calmly. “You’re still a disgrace to the Scholomance.” She drew her longsword and shouted “NOW”.

Kit sprinted, knocking down two Cohort members on his way, disappeared around the corner of the nearest building and scrambled up its wall with a dexterity that would make both Jace and Jem proud. Up on the roof, he could see six Centurions had been dispatched to look for him. He glanced at the battle taking place beneath him and heard shouts as a newcomer joined the melee and incapacitated a Cohort member in a record time, before turning to fight two others. Kiersten was fighting two on her own.

Kit decided to check on the hunt party. Only two of them had decided to climb the stairs up to the top of the building, while the others were searching the area. Suddenly, he heard in a loud, clear voice “STOP. STOP now, put your weapons down or I SWEAR TO GOD I will cut Barbie’s throat.”

He hurried back to stand at the edge of the roof, to assess the situation below.

Kit watched as the newcomer – a tall figure wearing a Centurion uniform – took a step forward and kneeled, laying his two blades on the floor. He raised both his hands as he stood. The moon lit his face. Kit gasped. Ty. No, no, no, Ty. I am so sorry.

Manuel strode to stand behind Ty, encircling him with his arms and lifting a knife to his throat. He was almost standing on tiptoe as Ty was taller than him, and it would have been comical if not for the dreadfulness of the whole situation.

A few feet away, facing them, another Cohort member had Kiersten in a headlock.

Kit had to force himself still. His hands were clutched into fists, his entire body trembling with the urge to fight. He kept repeating Kiersten’s words in his head. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.

“Well, well, look who we have here” said a woman’s voice and Kit recognized it at once. Zara Dearborn.

“Is this… Julian Blackthorn’s younger brother? The weird one? Well, whatever they say, he is hot as hell.”

Manuel laughed. “I figured you would say this, Zara. We all know you have wet dreams about Julian Blackthorn. No shame in that. You know what they say, keep your enemies closer and all that.”

Zara spluttered. “Seriously? You really want to talk about this? How about your crush on Emma Carstairs?” And in a mimicking voice, “Oooh Emma, you have such pretty blond hair and you’re such a badass, and you have this long, beautiful sword making up for my tiny, little…”

“Let’s make a truce,” said Manuel. “When we get back to Alicante, the Blackthorn Ken here will be all yours.”

“That’s actually a great idea. The look on Emma’s face when she finds out that her little brother-in-law and I…“

“I’m sorry, Zara, but this is not happening” said Ty, in a loud, clear voice, that didn’t betray a flicker of fear although he had a knife pointed at his throat. Kit felt a surge of pride. “No offense, but psycho bitches are not my type.”

Kit could see in the distance silhouettes running in their direction. He sighed in relief. Reinforcement was coming. He jumped from the roof and landed directly behind Zara, pointing his sword in her back in almost the same motion.

Several gasps of surprise.

“You think that jump was high? I can do it in my sleep” said Kit, showing off.

He winked at Ty then, who was glancing his way, pride glittering in his eyes.

Kit knew he needed to stall until reinforcement arrived. Admittedly, the Cohort members were already doing most of the job.

“So… Manuel, I have to admit I am a bit jealous. You see, I have been fantasizing about holding Tiberius in the exact same position for years now.”

Ty, who had not betrayed a flicker of emotion until then, flushed a deep shade of red.

Manual smiled viciously. “Oh, I see. I guess all Faeries are queers.” And then, he spoke in Ty’s ear but loudly, so everyone could hear “So, who’s the bitch?”

Ty didn’t answer but looked pointedly at Zara.

“Let me translate for you, freak. Do you hump him? Or does he hump you?”

“Come now, Manuel. This is the 21st Century. Keep up” said Kit, flashing his best smile. “We believe in equal opportunities.”

“OK guys, did I miss something? did we really run into Cohort members or some hormone-crazed teenagers posing as such?” it was Barbie – sorry, Kiersten – who had just spoken.

No one answered as this was the moment when Jace appeared out of nowhere and knocked down the person who had her in a headlock with the flat of his sword.

Kit pushed Zara away, with such force that she ended up sprawling on the floor.

He instantly turned to where Ty was standing… looking down, his foot resting on top of Manuel’s body, which was writhing on the ground. Manuel was staring at his hands, his forearms, which were covered with red rashes and blisters, his face a mask of shock. A powder substance was eating away his knife, which had somehow landed a few feet away.

Kit saw Ty put away a small vial filled with red-purple powder, with a satisfied look on his face.

All hell broke loose.

A fleeing Cohort member was swept off his feet as a whip circled around his foot and Isabelle, looking like a warrior goddess, pulled vigorously.

An arrow lodged itself in Zara’s thigh as she tried to stand up. Alec, standing a few feet away, had already pulled a new arrow. He looked… bored.

Kit knocked down another Cohort member using only his right hook. Because, well, he could.

In a few minutes, they had rounded up the wounded and tied their hands behind their backs.

The party that had been sent to search for Kit came back to an incongruous sight.

Zara, Manuel and the other Cohort members who had remained with the Centurions were now huddled together in the middle of a circle made by Anush, Kiersten, Ty and Isabelle, who was slashing at the air with her whip as to make a point to whoever thought they could chance an escape. Kit thought she looked like a hot school teacher scolding her very, very naughty pupils.

The search party turned around, making a run for it… only to be met by Jace. He was leaning casually against the side of the wall, his arms crossed.

“Hey, guys” he drawled. “Looking for something? Your dignity, maybe?”

One of the fleers launched himself at him, weapon raised, and Jace simply ducked out of the way as he drew his own sword.

Kit sensed a movement behind him, just as he was facing another one. Glancing backward, he saw that Ty had joined him to cover his back. He felt heat – the heat of the battle, the heat of Ty's body so close to his – as they fought back-to-back, four opponents at the same time.

Alec and Jace eventually joined them, and it was almost over before it had started.

The remaining Cohort members joined their friends in the circle where Kiersten, Anush and Isabelle had remained. Isabelle had put away her whip and was staring at her nails.

Clary finally swept in, gracefully, not a single hair out of place, and started drawing a portal.

“Sorry we are late” she said, standing next to Simon who was carrying large paper bags. “We had to stop to buy us dinner.”

*****

Hope you’ll enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing it @heloisacosta23 @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper @chlo-tk @the-blackdale @thechangeling @herondalebitchh

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hopelikethemoon · 3 years

Text

Out of Reach (Ezra x Reader) ||{Moonbeam} || [smut]

Title: Out of Reach Rating: Explicit Length: 5,500 Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, smut (oral sex and regular sex), space drug use. Notes: Proof that I do love all of you. Part twenty-two of the Moonbeams series.

As soon as you entered the atmosphere of Lykaios, all of your nausea vanished. There was true bliss in being able to gobble down a handful of dehydrated biscuit snacks for the first time in a few days. No more shots, no more nausea tabs, and no more… leaving for the time being.

Shiva had taken it upon themselves to stock your transport with two months of food, mostly to avoid interacting with Quinn. There was something new to feel guilty about. If Quinn hadn’t had to reveal his true identity — because of you — they would’ve been speaking.

You could only hope, but Quinn was leaving alone to go back to Ay-7 for awhile. Shiva didn’t even give him a send-off.

You couldn’t blame them for being upset with him. Shiva, like most people, despised anyone affiliated with Fiorta. But he was still Quinn. Even if his name was actually Riordan. Except it wasn’t — he may have been born as Riordan, but he chose Quinn.

They’d get over it, sooner or later.

Your heart did somersaults when you saw that Ezra was waiting in the clearing for you. It flooded you with false hope, before you quickly reminded yourself of the reality. He was just walking through the motions.

“Welcome back, moonbeam,” Ezra drawled out as he stepped aboard the transport. “How are you feeling.”

“Good.” You answered as you sealed the door closed. “I ate.”

He smiled warmly, “I was worried about you. Nutros only do so much.” Ezra took a step towards, his eyes lowering to your stomach. “May I?”

Your hand rested against the not-so-subtle swell there, “Of course.” You mirrored his expression, smiling at him. “It’s a good thing I went back to the Block to pick up a few new shirts.”

Ezra reached out and brushed his fingers over your stomach, before spreading his hand out over the curve. “It’s surreal to think that part of me is safely nestled right here.”

“I can’t imagine why it’s surreal,” You teased lightly, reaching out to play with the soft hair that fell across his forehead, before running your fingers down his cheek. “How are you?”

“Better now.” He told you lightly as he rubbed his fingertips over your stomach. “Can you feel them yet?”

“Sometimes I think I can,” You told him, resting your hand over the back of his. “Little flutters, but not anything substantial.”

Ezra lifted his gaze to meet yours, “I feel like I should kiss you right now.” He told you as he stared at your lips.

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, teasing your fingertips through the hair at the nape of his neck there. “Then kiss me.”

He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips brushing over yours. But that wasn’t enough, Ezra tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip as he sought entrance.

A soft groan escaped you as you sank into the kiss, grabbing at his shoulder for support. If you could just forget for a few moments, suspend the bitter taste of reality, you could just pretend. Ezra was always so enthusiastic when you came back, always ready to smother you with attention or recite a new line of poetry that captured his interest.

He broke away from the kiss before you had fully savored the brief brush with your imagination, his breath dancing over your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry, I—“

You pressed your fingers to his lips and shook your head. “Not yet.” You whispered, winding your arms around his body and pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hands down your back, but his touch was awkward — like he wasn’t sure how you needed to be held. There was just enough fumble to pull you back into the bleak moment.

“So,” You started, twisting yourself out of his embrace and putting space between the two of you. “I apologize for returning so soon. I know I said I anticipated a week.” You had made it four days — not including travel time.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, moonbeam.” He assured you, shifting his weight from the heels of his feet to his toes and back again. He looked as awkward as you felt.

“I know, but I told you I would give you space and I’m… Clearly not great at that.”

The faint smile on Ezra’s lips drew into a tight thin line, “Space. Right.” He clasped his hands together, “You indicated that there was more amiss than what you revealed over the com.”

You grimaced a little, “Would you like to go sit?”

“Sure.” Ezra gave a stiff nod, before starting down the corridor towards your quarters, instead of the common area.

“Ezra?”

He glanced back at you, “What?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

He stopped, turning towards you then. “Your quarters?”

“You haven’t been on my transport before… since what happened.” You had spent your last night on Lykaios with him on his transport — before heading back to yours with Shiva the next morning.

Ezra blinked slowly, “I haven’t.”

You shook your head.

“Oh.” He laughed incredulously. “I think I remember…” He looked back down the hallway towards your quarters, brows drawn together. “It’s dark.”

“It’s alright.” You moved towards him, reaching for his hand. “I don’t expect you to remember anything.”

Ezra shook his head, “That was weird. It was almost like…” He squeezed your hand. “Like an impression of something I once knew.”

You brought his hand to your lips, letting it linger. “It’s a start. Another start.”

He rubbed his thumb over the center of your palm, before guiding you down the corridor to your quarters.

“You know,” You started. “I would’ve been a lot more nervous to tell you this before.”

“Bad news?” He arched a brow.

“It relates to Quinn.”

“Do I want to know?” Ezra eyed you suspiciously and ducked as you swung your hand at him. “I’m joking!”

“Am I laughing?” You protested as the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

He started laughing, “Yes!”

You put your hands on your hips, “No I’m not.”

Ezra scooped you up — never ceasing to impress you with his strength — before depositing you unceremoniously onto the bed. “Tell me.”

You huffed, sinking back onto your bed and propping your legs up on his lap. “It’s not fun news, you know. It’s more like, the Corps might be after our baby.”

“What?” He stiffened, his eyes locking onto your face. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, at my appointment the medic discovered that the baby and I aren’t entirely compatible with each other. I personally think it only occurs when I’m not on Lykaios — I never feel that bad when I’m here.”

“But the Corps.”

“I’m getting there. The medic wanted to do some risky procedure, which I vetoed and then… I mentioned that the father wasn’t fully human. Look, you could be Zendovian, Yaelori, or any number of species that have been known to mix with humans, but… my record says the last place I jumped to was Lykaios.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he held your gaze, “And then what?”

“I lied. I said the baby was conceived on Ay-7, just to save face. Timing is off if they pull the logs, but…” You sank back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem.”

“When has the Corps ever not been a problem?” He seethed. “They’ll come here and ruin everything. That’s what they do.”

“Not always. Especially… considering I discovered that all this time I knew the heir to Fiorta.”

“Riordan Northcott vanished twenty years ago,” Ezra remarked. “Rumors always suggested he was caught with his pants down with the wrong person.”

You snorted, “That sounds about right.” You tilted your head to look at Ezra, “It’s Quinn.”

“Excuse me?” His jaw dropped. “Our Quinn?”

You nodded slowly, “Rumors apparently weren’t largely exaggerated. He only told me the need-to-know aspects of his life, but… it makes so much sense now.”

He was still just staring at you, “And he isn’t involved?”

“No.” You assured him. “But he’s going to get involved to try to waylay any danger. Given all of their ventures, I can’t imagine that Lykaios or our baby is high on their radar.”

“And this was what had you so agitated?”

“Well, yeah. Quinn is about to get himself tangled up in a situation he tried to leave because of me, Shiva won’t talk to him, and you’re…”

“Broken?”

“For lack of a better word.” You sighed heavily. “If I hadn’t gone to Arcadia, if I hadn’t made that deal, if I hadn’t… stupidly brought it up with you.”

Ezra lifted your legs off his lap so he could move up the bed, draping himself over your body carefully. His knees pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your hips, his hands planted beside your head.

“You have to stop blaming yourself, moonbeam.” He told you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. There was a familiar warmth there, a quiet adoration that warmed you.

“I have a lot of regrets,” You admitted, trying to will the tears you felt welling in your eyes not to fall.

Ezra’s brows creased together, “Do you regret what we had?”

“No,” You whispered, before you quietly corrected yourself. “A little. More so now that I know that…” You shook your head slowly. “I didn’t know how serious your condition was, Ezra. You hid it so well.”

“If I chose not to reveal that to you, perhaps it was because it didn’t matter to me anymore. A person can overlook pain if the alternative is better than they could’ve imagined.” He drawled out, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “I may not truly know you, little lamb, but I know what the ghost of these emotions feel like.”

You blinked slowly, causing a hot tear to slip down your cheek. “Everyone has had to make sacrifices because of me. How is that fair?”

“Haven’t you made your own?” Ezra questioned, “You told me that you died and now you’re carrying our baby — something that is to the detriment of your own life. We all make sacrifices for those we love. We give little pieces of ourselves to the people who matter.”

“Ezra—“

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, “I may not remember, but I do know why I would make certain decisions.”

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, sliding your fingers over the scar that marred his skin there. “Why?”

“I feel the depths of my love for you, even still.” He murmured, his voice dropping low as he leaned down to kiss you.

This was a dangerous game — one you ached to play.

You raked your fingers through his hair as you tilted your chin to close the distance between your lips. Your tongue slid out, trailing across his lips as you sought out his. A needy sound rising up the back of your throat.

Ezra moved above you, planting a knee between your thighs.

Once again, he broke the kiss before you were ready for the moment to end, breath dancing over your tender lips. “What about slow?”

“Fuck slow.” You hissed out, reaching down to tug at the hem of his shirt, drawing the fabric up his back.

Ezra sank back on his legs, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. You sat up, reaching out to run your hands over the warm skin of his chest.

You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, letting your lips linger there, before he helped you pull off your own thin sweater. His hands roamed over your newly bared skin, sliding along the curve of your waist.

“You’re sure?” He questioned, brows drawn together with concern as he cupped your cheek.

“Yes,” You nodded, reaching down to unlatch the buckle of his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants. “I need this.”

Ezra kissed the top of your head. “Whatever you want, moonbeam.” He murmured, his voice almost too quiet to even hear. But you did.

You tugged the zipper down and forced the closure apart so you could shove his pants down his hips and thighs. After they were shed, you laid back and let him do the same with your pants, peeling away every barrier that separated the two of you — except for his memories. That was a barrier you couldn’t breach. Not yet.

Ezra laid you back against the bed once more, draping himself over you as he claimed your mouth again. His rough hands wandered, skimming over the swell of your breast, dragging his thumb over your taut nipple, before trailing downwards to grasp at your hip as he rocked against you.

His cock was trapped between your bodies, rigid against your thigh. He moved downwards, mouth hot against your throat, lips brushing over that spot at the crook of your neck that always seemed to draw him in.

You let yourself get lost in the sensation. Ezra’s skilled mouth tasting every inch of you from your lips to the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

“Look at you,” He drawled out as he parted your slick folds, brushing his thumb over clit. “Fuck, you’re soaked, little lamb.”

It reminded you of the first time your thighs had framed his face, the first time he coaxed a release from you. Your lips parted with a breathy moan as Ezra sank two fingers into your slick center, his tongue sweeping over that aching bundle of nerves.

Your hips arched up off the bed and his grip tightened to hold you steady. He curled his fingers within you, seeking out that sweet spot that only he seemed skilled enough to find.

“Ezra.” You moaned, squirming beneath him as he sucked at your clit lightly. You were right on the brink, inner walls fluttering around his fingers.

Ezra released his hold on your hip, reaching for your hand instead. It wasn’t fair — the way he slotted his fingers in between yours, the way he held your hand as he pushed you over the edge.

It felt like bliss and agony rolled into one as you came apart at the seams, your cunt gushing around his fingers as he dragged them in and out of you.

He took his time with you. You watched him lick his fingers clean, before he worked his tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your arousal.

You pressed your foot against his shoulder, trying to push him away as you twitched beneath his ministrations, your clit far too sensitive to endure the teasing stroke of his tongue. “Ezra.”

He turned his head and nipped at the inside of your thigh gently, “Tell me I never took this for granted.” He peppered kisses over your skin. “I could devote my life to making you come — just like this.”

“You took full advantage,” You told him with a lazy smirk as you watched him move back up the length of your body. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, fresh desire burning through you as he sucked your thumb into his mouth. “As did the beast.”

“I bet.” He released your thumb with a wet pop, before leaning in to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, which only fueled your need.

You curled your leg around his hip, moaning against his mouth as his cock dragged between your sensitive folds. “Please.”

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You breathed out as you reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your center. “I need this. You.”

Ezra gently cradled your jaw in his palm, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he pressed into you. His lashes fluttered, but he kept his gaze trained on you. “Fuck.” He rasped. “You feel good.”

“So do you.” You leaned up and caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently at it before trailing kisses along his jaw. “I missed this.”

Ezra stroked his thumb down the center of your throat, before planting both hands against the bed beside your head for leverage. He rocked forward, snapping his hips into you before drawing back and repeating the motion again and again.

It was different — good, but different. It lacked the desperation of that first time with Ezra and it lacked the tenderness that came from loving someone. It was still him. He just couldn’t remember what came before.

A part of you wished you had rolled over beneath him, pressed your face into the pillow and let him drive the length of his cock into you, but it hasn’t felt right. This felt right.

Looking up at him as he rocked into you, kissing him each time he dipped down to steal another one from you. There was so much there that just was — memories or no memories.

Tendrils of pleasure burned through you as you clenched around his cock, fingernails digging into the back of his arms as you climbed to him.

Ezra picked up the pace, his breath coming out in labored pants as he filled you. Your name slipped past his lips as he buried himself within you and came apart. He kept himself there, rocking his hips slowly as he spilled out.

He slid out of you far sooner than you wanted, rolling onto the bed beside you to keep from putting too much weight on your stomach. You prepared yourself for him to pull away — to put space between the two of you. But he didn’t.

Ezra pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder, molding his body into the shape of yours, his hand wandering over your bare skin, before settling at your stomach. “I don’t know the particular cautions around copulation during pregnancy.” He remarked, his words muffled against your shoulder.

You snorted, “Never change.”

He tilted his head to rest his chin against your arm, flashing you a cheeky grin. “What?”

“Copulation.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re the only man I know who would use ‘copulation’ immediately after fucking.”

Ezra shrugged a shoulder, “It sounded right, little lamb.” He smirked a little, his fingers wandering lower.

Your lips parted with a breathy sigh as he skimmed his fingers between the slick folds of your cunt, gathering up the mess left behind there. “Ezra.” You whispered, curling your fingers around his wrist as you pulled his hand away.

He arched a brow as he watched you bring his fingers to your mouth, dragging your tongue over them before wrapping your lips around them. He stroked his fingers over your tongue as you let them go with a wet pop.

“Fuck, that’s…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he kissed you. The kind of kiss that was bound to leave your lips tingling tomorrow.

You melted into him as he kissed you, meeting his desperation with your own until you were both nose-to-nose and drawing in ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t be.” You murmured, kissing his shoulder as you curled your arms around him. “This… you�� . You’re all I need right now, Ez.” You didn’t have to pretend. You could just fall in love with him all over again.

Ezra tossed his satchel onto the bed beside you as he shook a handful of loose lunaxium in his palm, “You wouldn’t happen to have a mortar and pestle, would you?”

“You brought one,” You finished the last bite of fruit, before sliding out of your bed. “How is it?”

“Thought I could ignore it. We had such a good evening last night, but…” He grimaced and shook his head.

“Would you be willing to tell me more?” You questioned as you stepped out into the corridor to retrieve the device from the fresher. “You were always downplaying it until, well… You were in rough shape.”

“Right now it’s simply just a mind-numbing headache. Everything is darkly tinged at the corners.” He took the mortar and pestle and started grinding it into a thin powder. “I am almost proud of myself for concealing it. That had to have been no easy task.”

You watched him as he carefully lined up the lunaxium dust, before snorting it. It didn’t look particularly pleasurable at first. His brows knit together and his jaw dropped, but then his features softened.

“Sorry,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his hand under nose.

“No, no.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t bother me. You just always hid when you had to use it.”

“I was probably ashamed,” Ezra admitted. “I get the impression that I didn’t like the reminders of our differences.” He rubbed at his nose again, before scooting back to lean against the wall beside you. “How are you?”

“I slept well last night.” You told him as you picked up another piece of fruit from the dish beside you, peeling off the peel. “Someone wore me out.”

Ezra chuckled, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you, “It was quite a way to end my five year dry spell a second time.”

You pried out a segment of the fruit, biting it in half before offering the other bite to him. “I think it was exactly what we both needed.”

He leaned over and used his mouth to take the fruit from your fingers, licking the nectar off his bottom lip. “It didn’t feel like scratching the itch.” Ezra drawled out, rubbing his thumb over the center of his forehead.

“Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” Ezra exhaled slowly. “Takes a few to kick in.” He slumped back against the wall. You could tell it was working it’s magic on him. His movements seemed sluggish and relaxed. All of the tension in his body seemed to ebb away.

“Do you think I should take lunaxium?”

Ezra’s eyes slid to meet yours, “For what?”

You gestured to your stomach, “This little spawn of yours.”

“Pup.” He corrected with a crooked grin. “I don’t know. You said you get sick when you’re off world?”

“Nausea, cramping, headache, general malaise.” You explained as you took another bite of fruit. “It’s getting worse every time I go back to the Block.”

“Then you should stay here,” Ezra ran his fingers down the side of your arm. “You already proved that you can endure the full moon here. That the beast knows you, little lamb.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “And that’s how I know you’re not you.”

“But I am.” Ezra insisted, leaning to rest his head against your shoulder. “I’m still the man who loves you.”

Your expression fell, “Ezra, you’re high.”

“So?”

“So.” You muttered, grabbing a pillow to present him with instead of your shoulder as you started to move out of his grasp. “You barely know me.”

Ezra stretched out on your bed, his arms wrapped around the pillow as he rested his face against it. “But I do know you. I feel you.”

“Sleep it off, champ.” You remarked as you cleaned up the mess you’d made with the fruit, sitting the bowl of discarded peel on the little stand beside your bunk.

“Are you listening to me?” He questioned, even as his eyes were tightly closed.

“Yes, I am.” You sighed, dropping his satchel on the ground as you pulled the covers up and over him. “But you’re high and talking nonsense.”

“I was confused,” Ezra mumbled. “When you brought me back to my transport. My thoughts were so disjointed and I didn’t mean… I care about you, moonbeam.”

“It’s all been forgiven,” You assured him, brushing your fingers through the hair that fell against his temple. “Just relax. Hopefully you’ll wake up feeling better.”

“Will you stay?” He drowsily rubbed his hand over the bed beside him.

“I’m going to call Shiva and then I’ll come back to bed.” You promised. “Just rest, Ez.”

“I like when you call me that.” Ezra whispered, as his breathing finally evened out.

You quietly moved across your quarters to grab your datapad out of the charging dock, before heading down the corridor to the cockpit. Shiva hadn’t had enough time to set up the comlink like the one you and Ezra used — this one required an additional boost from the nav system to siphon off the satellite grid.

It took three rings for them to answer, “Yrica’s frosty nips. I was asleep.”

“Shit.” You checked the time. “I forgot. So much of our time is spent inside I lose track of—“

“It’s fine.” Shiva assured you. “How are you? Did you stop puking your guts up?”

“As soon as I re-entered the atmosphere, I felt like new again.” You rested your hand on your stomach as you kicked back in your jump seat. “I carb loaded as soon as I could.”

Shiva yawned dramatically, “I hope you hydrated too.”

“I drank plenty.” You laughed softly. “Ezra was insistent this morning… or whatever time it was. We slept for like eight hours.”

“How’s that situation going?”

“Well—“

“You had your second first time with him, didn’t you?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No, but he is.” Shiva snickered. “Despite how deceptive the two of you were being while I was there, his interest in you was blatant.”

“At least I’m not misreading that situation.” You propped your elbow up on the armrest of your jump seat. “It’s a delicate situation.”

“How were things after?”

“Great.” You shrugged. “He’s still… It’s still Ezra. He still does what I would expect from him. We cuddled and he fell asleep. I woke up a little later to use the fresher and he was just as clingy when I got back.”

“Oh, he was ‘clingy,’ huh?” Shiva taunted.

You rolled your eyes, “And then we slept for eight hours.” You felt your cheeks warm, “You’re not going to hear me complain about the wake-up.”

“Called it.” They laughed softly. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Where is he right now?”

“Resting. Headache.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “It kills me to know how much pain he’s been in all along, but he hid it from me.”

“Yeah, well we all hide things from the people we care about.”

“Have you heard from Quinn?”

“Who?”

“Shiva.”

“Fuck Quinn.”

“He didn’t keep that from us for insidious reasons, Shiva.” You sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why you won’t at least give him a little grace.”

“I’ve given him a lot of grace.” Shiva said flatly. “I’ve hauled his ass around the galaxy and bailed him out when he’s fucked up. He could’ve told me. I wouldn’t have judged him.”

“You wouldn’t have judged him? Like you’re not judging him right now?”

“It’s different now. He waited too long.”

“Shiva, I genuinely think Quinn just repressed his past. The only reason it came up was because of me. I don’t think he kept that from us as a ‘fuck you’ to either of us.”

“Maybe he’ll prodigal son his way back into their good graces. Then I won’t have to be his emotional support person anymore.” Shiva huffed.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just chomping at the bit to get back in there and have his life controlled by his ultra-conservative family.” You snapped. “Quinn definitely seems like the type to be content with that.”

“We both know he loves glad-handing.”

“He also loves being free to do who and what he pleases.” You sank back in your seat. “Give him an inch, Shiva. Don’t make me feel guilty over killing your friendship.”

“Then Riordan shouldn’t have lied to us.”

“I don’t think Quinn was doing it as a slight.” You shook your head. “Just try, alright?”

“No, but I’ll say ‘yes’ to help you sleep better at night.”

“I’m honoured.” You quipped. “I should probably go. I promised Ezra I’d nap with him.”

“Com me later?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m up now. I’ve got an AI bot to tinker with.”

“Have fun with that.” You offered, before killing the com. You had to hold onto the hope that the two of them would fix their friendship. They’d been friends too long to see that torn apart because of you.

Ezra was still out cold on your bed and snoring softly. He looked so relaxed — he always did when he was asleep and unbothered by the pain. You wished he’d been honest with you about all of that before. It hurt a little more to find out from a version of him that was uninhibited by emotions.

You leaned down to pick up the contents of his satchel that had spilled out on the floor by your bed. The little pouch of lunaxium had lost a few pieces of the rock. You tucked them back into the pouch — all but one.

If your baby was like Ezra, wouldn’t they need lunaxium too?

Sinking down onto the side of the bed you placed the rock on your tongue, it tasted like copper and something oddly tangy. The rough texture felt strange against your tongue, but it softened into a malleable enough texture that you could swallow it.

At least it seemed safer to try lunaxium with Ezra right beside you. It took awhile to feel anything. You’d done dust on At-7 — you knew what getting high felt like. But this was slower, it weighed down your limbs and made your insides feel… different.

You drowsily slid under the covers beside Ezra, curling into the crook of his body, seeking his warmth as an unusual chill moved through your body.

Everything felt a little brighter, a little louder… You could feel the life humming from within you. That star that you had plucked from the sky and swallowed. The life that had taken root within you, that was drawing from you for sustenance.

Light twisted behind your eyes, causing you to fall upwards into an increasing brightness — like you were ascending into a supernova. Bathed in warm light. Was this what Ezra felt whenever he used lunaxium?

You seemed more aware of your existence. Every little flutter in your womb felt like you should’ve been able to see the movement beneath your skin. If you could even see your own body. It was just light.

“Moros holds the keys to all of our fate.”

“Who’s there?”

You recognised the voice. Callisto.

“He tricked us to turn on our own brother.” She told you, her disembodied voice like a whisper against your skin. “Convinced Psophis that freedom was his, only to bind him into the form of a wolf for all eternity.”

“Can I get Ezra’s memories back?”

“They’re not gone… just out of reach.” Callisto told you. “Like your own were.”

“But I remembered.”

“Ezra was weak. The fight was drained from him before he could cling to his mind.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“An enemy of my enemy is the closest of friends.” Callisto assured you. “Arcadia is out of reach for my siblings, but you…”

“I’m not going back there,” You protested. “Not while I’m pregnant.”

“Once the child is born,” Callisto said smoothly. “We will spare both of you, if you help to free us.”

“And Ezra?”

“Will be free too.”

“But his memories.”

“Are just out of reach.” Callisto repeated. “Promise me you’ll help to free us.”

“I’m leery of making vows after Moros.”

She sighed, “We’ll spare you and your child, regardless of your success.”

“And Ezra?”

“And Ezra.”

“Then I’ll help.” You told her, blinking at the dark shape in the bright light that surrounded you. You could see her — the outline of her. “But I can’t make any promises.”

“Hope is enough for me.” Callisto vanished, swept up in a breeze, taking the light with her.

Stars cascaded above you, falling across the sky rather than downwards. Green light danced through the night sky, transforming into shimmering blue and pink shapes, before vanishing with the stars.

You fell backwards, falling and falling until you felt the firm pressure of your mattress at your back.

You gasped, sitting bolt upright in the bed. The movement was enough to jerk Ezra awake, a sharp growl escaping him like he was primed to attack someone.

“It’s just me.” You assured him, meeting his wild eyes. “It’s just me. I had a nightmare.”

Ezra kept staring at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “I thought…” He blinked, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think I was still asleep.”

“You growled.”

Ezra laughed a little as he sank back onto the bed, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Did you think you remembered?” You questioned quietly.

He nodded stiffly, before admitting, “For just a second.” Ezra pulled you towards him, pressing his face into your hair. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s alright,” You kissed his throat and the underside of his jaw. “It’s just out of reach.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Exactly.”

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #pedro pascal ezra #ezra (prospect) x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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katelyn--renee · 4 years

Text

Sweet Cherry Pie

Title: Sweet Cherry Pie

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (Mentioned), Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x pregnant!Reader

Words: ±1860

Description: You and Dean have only known each other for a short time, six months to be exact, but a lot can happen from then to now - especially when you’re expecting, twins no less. Just how close have you gotten? Dean is eager to tell you.

Square Filled: Fluff @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings: Fluff and lots of it, pregnancy (with twins)… that’s it… Did I mention fluff?

Author’s Note: I had no beta for this and this is honestly my first fic - I’ve done a lot of RolePlaying over the years, though, and this fic was actually inspired by my most recent RP.

I hope you enjoy, it’s short and sweet and any/all mistakes are my own. Please feel free to leave feedback and give me any tips for future fics. Or feel free to give me some ideas for another fic and I’ll see what I can do. :)

Enjoy!

Check out @talesmaniac89 for more awesome page dividers!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any photos or gifs, all rights go to original creators/owners.

BONUS: Here is a crackship I made that helped inspire this fic.

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

The Impala came to a stop in the old scrap yard and found its usual spot near the weathered green Chevelle, the infamous rumble of Baby’s engine announcing their arrival. Dean glanced through the open window as his green eyes scanned over the old, yet familiar, home in South Dakota. Bobby’s home. The place had become like a second home to the Winchester’s over the years, (the first being the Impala) Bobby almost like a second father and so any time they were near, they’d make a point to swing by, even if the visit was only brief. It was always good to see the old grouch.

He exhaled a heavy sigh through his nose, reminiscing a moment as the old place brought up so many memories; both good and bad - but mostly good. A particularly fond memory came to mind and he thought about when he and Sammy were younger, picturing his kid brother running around while he taught him how to properly throw an old football they’d found lying around in the field.The memory made his lips twitch, a smile threatening to form.

The picture shifted and changed as he tried to imagine what the future might hold for him and the woman who had captured his heart and carried his children - (Y/N). He could practically see their little faces, a perfect mixture of himself and the woman he loved; Her (Y/E/C) eyes and his freckled nose, two wonderful little clones, reenacting the cherished memory he shared with Sam.

Their identical grins were wide and bright, beautiful in so many ways. Children had never been a part of his plan before, never really given it much thought before six months ago. Hell, he never even considered it a possibility in their line of work. Who knew that a shared bottle of whiskey and a one heated night in the back of the Impala would change his mind. Sure, he’d been careless and stupid, but did he regret it? Not one bit, because it led him to (Y/N).

The smile won and formed on his lips with the thoughts, growing in size until it crinkled the edges of his green eyes. He shifted his gaze back to the kitchen, finding her very pregnant silhouette through the window. He tracked her through the windows, watching as she moved from one side of the kitchen to the other and kept herself busy, more than likely filling Bobby’s house with her latest inspiration. It made his heart swell with joy.

He knew she’d be safe here with Bobby and after several long hours of debate, she’d finally agreed to stay behind from now on - although swore she wouldn’t make it easy on him and even threw in her best (and cutest) pout. It was in the best interest for everyone involved and he knew that she knew that, too, but also knew that hunting was a big part of who she was; (Y/N) grew up in the life, just like he and Sammy had and so he understood just how difficult it was for her to sit on the sidelines.

But there was just too much at risk and Dean would never be able to forgive himself if anything were to ever happen to (Y/N) or those precious babies, especially if it could have been prevented.

Sam climbed out of the vehicle first, the creak of the closing door breaking Dean from his thoughts. He removed the key from the ignition and followed Sam’s lead, sliding out from behind the wheel and climbing the old staircase. The wood groaned and creaked under their added weight.

They were just returning from a hunt and so, naturally, they were a bit worse for wear; their jeans and henleys were spotted with dirt and grime, their boots caked with mud, their skin scraped and bruised in various places, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t walk away from and so Dean considered that to be a win.

As Sam pulled open the screen door, Dean’s eager grin nearly split his face in two. His stomach was just as eager as it audibly growled, the scent of freshly baked cherry pie wafting out from the open door, filling his nose and making his mouth water. Sam greeted (Y/N) in passing and flashed her that signature boyish-grin, dimples and all, as he made his way through the kitchen and into the study, joining Bobby so that he could update him on the case they had been working. She smiled back with a “Hey, Sammy,”, waving awkwardly over her shoulder with the oven mitt still covering her hands, before turning back to her task, removing the pie from the oven.

Dean stepped in behind his brother, but unlike Sam, he remained in the kitchen. He leaned casually against the fridge, crossing his arms and ankles while he watched her with adoring green eyes. The light was hitting her perfectly, illuminating her body like a halo. It was breathtaking. Dean was positive that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and it wasn’t just (Y/N)’s physical beauty that drew him in.

It was the way she’d sing out of tune to his favorite songs and didn’t care who was listening; it was her love of baking and knowledge of classic rock and vintage cars that frequently surprised him; it was her heart of gold, her fierce independence and stubborn attitude; it was the way she could hold her own in a fight against something or someone twice her size (he was certain that she could still kick his ass, even if she were six months pregnant); it was her fiery passion and witty humor that would quite often put him to shame; but most importantly, it was that little round belly behind her sunflower apron that made her the most beautiful thing in the world.

(Y/N) were carrying his children and that was a gift all in its own, something that he never dreamed of having. But there she stood, giving him the most precious gift he never knew he wanted. Or needed. And now, he knew he could never live without her or those two tiny humans.

He pushed himself away from his spot against the fridge and closed the distance between the pair of you with three long strides, his heavy boots making the floor creak beneath him. His strong arms wrapping around her waist and a smile formed on her lips with the contact. His large hands caressed the sides of her belly, sliding around to the front where his fingers spread out over the round surface. He pulled (Y/N) near, nuzzling himself against her affectionately.

A delighted hum left her lips as he gently kissed the exposed skin of her neck, paying special attention to his favorite freckles lining her shoulder. She tipped her head to the side, giving him more space to show his affection. She reached up to touch his face in greeting, his stubble rough against the palm of her hand. A smile bloomed over her face as she leaned into his touch, taking advantage of his firm chest.

“Hey good lookin’,” He greeted between each tortuous kiss. The tip of his nose brushed over her skin, featherlight as he worked his way across her shoulder and back toward her neck. His lips left a wet trail as he went, only stopping at the soft patch just below her ear. (Y/N) shivered against him, the sensation leaving goosebumps over her body and making her crave more of his attention. She turned in his arms then and her hands found his broad shoulders, the tips of her fingers brushing along the back of his neck.

His eyes found hers, dipping into her soul and seizing her heart. It took her a moment to remember how to breathe or speak. “Hey yourself, Winchester,” She replied once she’d found her voice, her breath hot and sweet against his face, her mouth only inches from his. She leaned forward, standing on the tips of her toes to meet his lips, her hands cupping the back of his head to deepen the connection. Her lips molded together with his, hot and greedy after the extended time apart. His firm hands slid down to her hips during the exchange, steadying her and holding her against him. She broke away with reluctance, her eyes fluttering open.

A smirk played on his lips and tugged the corner up, his jade eyes full of mischief. “I was talking to the pie, Sweetheart, but I guess you’re not so bad yours-” She gasped playfully and smacked him in the chest, feigning offence and he laughed, the sound coming deep from inside of his chest. She tried to keep a serious face, but his laughter and dazzling smile forced one of her own. His happiness was contagious. She shook her head and crossed her arms, refusing to give in. She even added her most convincing pout, the one that Dean found so cute, and refused to look him in the eye.

He sighed and his expression softened as he reached up to pinch her chin between his thumb and fingers,tenderly tilting her head so that she’d meet his adoring gaze. He was the one who leaned in this time and he kissed her sweetly, silently apologizing with his lips. She forgave him instantly and melted into his touch - both loving and hating the way he so easily affected her. He pressed his forehead against hers and just held her there against him, staring into her (Y/E/C) eyes.

“(Y/N) I…” He started to say but he cut himself short, his voice a little shaky with nerves. She watched him for a moment, curious, before she gave him a smile of encouragement, wanting to hear what he was thinking. “I love you, you know.” He admitted after several minutes, breaking the silence and surprising her.

A smile broke across her face and tears welled in her eyes, her emotions a little extra sensitive thanks to the two little Winchester’s growing inside of her. “ I love you, too.” She confessed happily, her voice shaky but her heart full of a love she’d never experienced before. “And I swear to God if you say you’re talking about that damn pie again…” She teased, quickly brushing away the happy tears before they could fall completely.

“…well….” Dean made a face as if he were considering this, teasing her, but then quickly flashed her another prized winning smile to assure her that he’d meant what’d he said. He dipped his head again, planting a quick kiss against her lips before dropping himself lower, crouching down until he was eye level with her round belly. Bracing a hand on either side, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the firm surface twice, one for each baby Winchester nestled inside.

“And daddy loves you.” He muttered, his voice low and meant for only them. She smiled softly during the exchange, her eyes welling again as she affectionately combed her fingers through his hair, her heart completely full and happy.

Thank you for reading!! Remember, your feedback gives me liiiife!

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 3 years

Text

Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Title: Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Words: 2241 (only a short one)

Summary: Charlie and his girlfriend are separated by work.

Requested: Sort of. The lovely and talented @dream-a-little-bigger-x got this request. Charlie x reader where the reader is on a tv show like ahs or something that’s not necessarily “kid friendly”. But as she’s not taking them atm, I decided to swipe this one. I hope the anon who requested it doesn’t mind.

TW: Swearing, alluding to sexual intercourse. That’s it I think. If I miss anything, message me so I can edit.

Author’s notes: I’m baccccckkkk. This was my way of getting back into writing reader fic. It’s been a while, and I hope y’all haven’t forgotten me. Also, while I’ve seen Tiny Pretty Things, I know nothing about the cast, so anything I’ve written, is completely made up.

Being back at home in my parent’s home was both reassuring and strange all at the same time. I’d been living in L.A. for almost two years, hundreds of miles away from home. While I missed my family like crazy, I loved being out in the world, being independent, and chasing my dreams.

However, rejection after rejection after rejection were beginning to weigh heavy on me and I had been starting to regret making the move. I’d been considering heading back home and teaching dance to kids. Then, I met Charlie through a mutual friend.

From the moment I met him, there was something that drew me to him; it wasn’t particularly hard. He was charismatic, funny, and crazy talented. The good looks were an added bonus. From that first meeting, we’d been inseparable and after six months, I gave up my apartment and moved in with Charlie and his friends.

We both booked jobs on upcoming TV shows within a week of one another, and we’d celebrated the news hard. A week of partying with your friends had wrecked the apartment, but it had totally been worth it. The main difference between our shows were the target audience. His, Julie and the Phantoms was aimed at a younger demographic to mine, Tiny Pretty Things. I was just glad to be using my ballet background as well as my acting abilities. He was also playing a main character, while I was to be in the background.

I was jolted from my memories by my phone ringing, Charlie’s face filling the screen. With a smile, I answered the facetime call.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, babe. I miss you.” Charlie was still in L.A., but he was at a boot camp thing that the legendary Kenny Ortega was running.

“I miss you too. How’s it going?” in answer to my question, he held up his hand. I could see band aids wrapped around his fingers. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. Guitar war wounds.”

“Poor baby.” I snarked, grinning at the mock upset look on his face. “Oh please. You’re loving every minute.”

“Babe, I really am.” His grin was wide. “When do you fly out to Toronto?”

“Not for another three weeks. I’m back in L.A. the day after tomorrow though. Will I get to see you?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if we get any time off before we head up to Vancouver for filming.”

I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. I hadn’t seen him for over two weeks, and I was going insane. It was one of the reasons behind my trip to see my family. They were enough to distract me, at least until I climbed into my childhood bed, the bed that only held me at night. That was when I missed him the most.

“That sucks.” I felt the lump in my throat, an indication I was close to tears.

“I know, babe. I know. I’m gonna try and get back, even if it’s just one night.”

“Please do.” I missed him, missed waking up next to him, missed just goofing around and hanging out with him. He was the man I loved, and I hated us being apart.

:: ::

I’d been in Toronto for almost six weeks. A month and a half had passed since I last saw Charlie, and it was killing me. It wasn’t as if I was alone, far from it. I may not have been playing a main character, but the entire cast of Tiny Pretty Things were close, even those of us in the background. We’d all been put through our dancing paces until we were exhausted – that had a habit of bringing people together.

Charlie and I spoke most days, if we could, and when we did, we were often interrupted by cast mates. Through our facetime calls I became friends with Jeremy, Owen, and Madison, and he became friends with the girls I was rooming with, and Brendan who played Shane. He and I had been partnered up during rehearsals and had become close. It didn’t bother him I wasn’t a main character and he was.

I had a rare night off while the main cast were working hard on some night scenes, so I was able to kick back in my room and relax. And I made the most of it. While a hot bath was running, I connected my phone up to my speaker and hit play on a relaxing playlist Charlie had made for me before we’d had to say our goodbyes and fly to opposite end of Canada.

I’d just sank into the steaming water, bubbles up to my chin when my phone rang. Reaching over, I managed to pick it up, and saw Charlie’s face on the screen. Quickly swiping, I answered the call, despite wanting to stare at the photo I’d taken almost a year ago when we’d gone camping.

“Well, if I’d have known you were in the tub, I would have called sooner.” He grinned as he spoke, making me roll my eyes.

“Charles Gillespie, you’re a damn perv.” I attempted to scold him as he pretended to try and look around the screen to see if he could see anything. Joke was on him, the bubbles came up to my neck.

“Only for you.” I laughed at the corny line. “Hey, why are you in the bath anyways?”

“Because I ache like a motherfucker and I don’t have any night shoots tonight. So, a hot bath is in order. I’ve been dancing almost non-stop for ten hours a day for six weeks. I never did this much when I was with the company.” I knew I was whining; knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I needed to get it off my chest. All of us in the cast moaned to one another, but it wasn’t the same as venting to my boyfriend, no matter how much I loved my job.

“I’m sorry, babe. If I could take the aches away, I would.” I knew he would too.

“I know. Ignore me, I shouldn’t be putting this on you. How’s your set?”

We chatted for almost an hour, Charlie making me laugh about his previous night’s filming eating what he said felt like hundreds of cold hot dogs, making me laugh so much, my stomach was starting to hurt when I climbed out of the bath – much to his enjoyment – and wrapped myself up in a large, soft towel. We carried on talking as I made my way into my room and got myself ready for bed.

“Look, I gotta go. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I couldn’t help but sigh when the call ended, and as I snuggled up in bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, I also couldn’t help crying. It was the longest we’d been apart in over six months, and even though I was loving my job, it hurt how much I missed him.

:: ::

When I walked onto set the following day, it felt as if everyone was acting a little shifty. No one seemed to look at me directly and whenever I initiated a conversation, they either found something else to do, or the director made us begin working.

“Hey, we’re all going out for dinner and karaoke tonight. Make sure you look pretty.” Brendan whispered in my ear as we got into position in the ballet class, ready for our scene.

“Uh, okay. Sure.” He gave me a smile before walking away.

We’d all be out a few times during filming and the rehearsals we’d had before, but this was the first I’d heard about plans for tonight. Rolling my neck and stretching my arms, I put it out of my mind as I followed the instructions of the director as the scene began around me.

By the end of the day, I was yet again exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was go out. But, as I packed up my gear, putting my comfiest shoes on, Brendan came over.

“Don’t forget we’re going out. We’re all meeting up in about an hour. Make yourself pretty.”

“Can I give it a miss? I’m ready to have a shower and crawl into bed.” He knew how I was feeling, I could see it etched onto his face too.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Attendance is mandatory for all.” He flashed me a wide smile before spinning away from me, no doubt off to get ready.

When I got back to the apartment I was sharing with a couple of the other female background cast, they were almost ready. The three of them ushered me into the bathroom to shower, telling me to find a nice dress.

The shower did reinvigorate me, and by the time I was dressed and applying my make-up, I was feeling much better, and was even looking forward to some great food and a good night. There were no shoots the next day, so we were able to let our hair down for the night.

When we all met up, the atmosphere was electric. We’d all worked so hard, and were more than ready for a night of not having to worry about getting up early or having to be in hair and make-up at the crack of dawn.

“Ready for a great night?” Brendan asked, linking arms with me as our huge group began to walk to a restaurant nearby we’d all been to on more than one occasion.

“I am actually. Thanks for making me come.”

“No worries, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head before turning to talk to the two guys behind us.

:: ::

Moving from the restaurant after dinner, we all made our way to a club where all of us were able to let go. I got myself a drink from the bar, and stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching my cast mates and friends having the time of their life, showing off their dancing skills. Laughing, I finished my drink, I put my empty glass down and joined them, losing myself in the deep bass. Brendan was in the center, lapping up the attention in a way only he could. He and Barton, who played Oren in the show, were busting out one of their routines from the show and had attracted a hell of a crowd.

As everyone whooped and hollered, I moved away, needing to head to the bathroom. I pulled my phone out of my purse to check if I’d missed any messages or calls from Charlie, but my screen was blank beyond a photo of the two of us. Disappointment flooded me as I shoved the phone back into my purse. Just as I zipped it up, I crashed into someone, strong hands grabbing my waist to stop me falling over.

Thinking my mind was playing tricks on me as my senses were invaded by the aroma of Charlie, the aroma I knew as well as my own. I looked up to find my boyfriend smiling down at me.

“What… how… huh?”

“Surprise, by airplane, Brendan organized it. Hew knew you were missing me as much as I missed you, So Kenny gave me a couple days off while Madi does some scenes with Jadah.”

“You’re really here?” I still wasn’t sure I was hallucinating.

“I’m really here, until tomorrow afternoon.”

With a squeal, I flung my arms around his neck, and kissed him. The evening suddenly got one hundred percent better.

:: ::

Waking up wrapped up in Charlie’s arms was the best thing. I’d missed it so much, and I knew I was going to struggle when he had to leave again, but I felt so happy being with him.

After he’d surprised me at the club, we’d mingled with my friends for a while before slinking away, going back to the apartment and making the most of the quiet as we got reacquainted with one another, multiple times, all night. So much so that when I managed to untangle myself from Charlie’s arms and legs to go to the bathroom, I ached in a completely different way I had been from work.

Once I was finished in the bathroom, I swiped my phone off the counter in the kitchen and sent a text to Brendan.

Thank you. I owe you one.

Once it had sent, I set the phone down and crawled back into bed with Charlie, making the most of having him with me. Especially naked.

Tagging: (strikethrough unable to tag) @dream-a-little-bigger-x @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @xplrreylo @morganayennefertyrell @lovesanimals @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @echocharm17618 @kinda-really-lost @n0wornever @all-in-fangirl @5sosmukefan @kcd15 @charliesmountains @amazinggracy

If you want to be added to my taglist, drop me a message.

#Mich writes fic #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader

69 notes · View notes

meobsessions · 3 years

Note

Hi! I saw you were taking requests, so I was wondering if you could maybe do a Dutch x reader where its later game Dutch and the reader is trying to keep him from spiraling further and it's just super angsty? If you don't have time or the inspiration to write it, don't worry about it. Love ya thanks!!

Wow, this was requested forever ago, and I just now got to it 💀sorry about the wait, hope this makes up for it (she’s a long one)!

Title: With Me or Against Me

Word Count: 9.4K

Rating: M (swearing, violence, suggestive themes, no actual smut tho)

Summary: When you first met Dutch Van Der Linde, the two of you were in love. It was bliss. But as the gang is on the run from the law, trying to stay hidden and safe, tensions rise and you find the two of you drifting apart. That's not what you want to happen, but you find as you try to fix things with your love it only gets worse. When you finally confront Dutch will it make everything better, or will it be damaged beyond repair?

Here’s the AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191437

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meeting Dutch van der Linde had been the best thing you had ever done.

The work you did to make a living wasn't anything big, but it was enough for you to get by on your own. Delivering packages from one post office to the other was something that most people didn't want to do--it consisted of long days and uncontrollable weather conditions, but you always liked traveling. Seeing different sights, meeting new people, and giving your brown quarterhorse, Scout, some good exercise gave you more joy than spending your days in saloons like it did most people.

The first time you met Dutch van der Linde it was quite dramatic. Like a knight in shining armor, he saved you from some men who had surrounded you while you were riding your horse to a neighboring town. They wanted your packages and you told them to go to hell. Bandits weren't uncommon, so you made sure to always carry a pistol, but the three of them to your one presented odds even you weren't happy about. Dutch showed up out of nowhere, along with a man who introduced himself as Arthur. Dutch tried calmly speaking to the men, but when they drew their guns he didn't hesitate in pulling his own and shooting the one closest to you in the head. The other men spooked and took off, shouting idle threats as they left in a cloud of dust.

When you had the chance to get a proper look at him, you were taken aback by just how handsome he was. Dark hair slicked back, a well-trimmed goatee on his face, warm brown eyes, and a muscular build visible even underneath his dress clothes. You hoped he didn't notice your ogling and looked him in the eye, thanking him profusely. He merely said he was doing what any decent man would do. He was suave, you had brazenly flirted, and then you were on your way. Though you didn't see the man for another week, he never left your mind.

Then when you were delivering packages to a farther town, one that required you to ride through the night, you heard some scuffling in the woods. Thinking it nothing more than a random animal, you urged Scout on until you heard the following groan that was most definitely human.

The last thing you were expecting was to find a drunk Dutch practically passed out in a bush. He didn't seem to be hurt, and it just looked like he had too many to drink after a good night out, so you weren't worried. After getting ahold of your laughter, you helped him onto your horse--his was nowhere in sight--and took him to the hotel in town where you paid for his room. He grabbed your hand just before you slipped from the room, and asked you to stay. Though a part of you was tempted, you politely declined. You just wanted to make sure he was safe in his inebriated state. It was the least you could do for him after what he had done for you.

But if there was one thing you would learn about Dutch van der Linde in the coming months, it was that he was a man of determination.

In simple terms, he didn't leave you alone. He always seemed to just so happen to be at the next town you were to go to. You'd bump into him at the post office, as that was where you normally went first. At first, you thought it was just a coincidence. He took you to dinner that night as a thank you for what you did when you found him. You told him it was unnecessary, but he insisted.

But as time went on, the bumping into each other became more frequent, the dinners were expected, and the talks were longer.

And after a month of this, it became clear that he was wooing you.

Did he do so successfully? Yes. Were you going to take it easy on him for doing so? Absolutely not.

Though Dutch was a man of class, he was also just that: a man. If there was one thing your mama taught you that you remembered, it was that you should never change yourself for a man. So you didn't.

You showed him who you were. What you liked doing. How you enjoyed your freedom and independence, more than most women you've encountered in your travels get the pleasure of enjoying. You expected him to be appalled, disgusted, wanting to move onto some other submissive woman.

But instead of doing so, he was like a moth to a flame and came around even more.

You met the group of people he traveled with, the people he called his family, and soon you came to understand why. The women were easy to get along with, and then men had their challenges, but don't they all?

After seeing each other for four months, you finally discovered the true nature of what it is that Dutch and his family did. You had been delivering a small box to one of the fancier towns in the country when you began to hear gunshots. When you walked down the street, you saw that the bank was being robbed. This wasn't uncommon--people didn't have money and some figured the only way to get it was by force.

But what shocked you was the familiar voice that was calling out orders to the men who had bandanas on their faces as they ran from the building, large bags clutched in their hands. The man, whose hair was as dark as the night, turned in your direction and seemed to lock eyes in the crowd. He paused, and then another one of the men, this one also with familiar sandy blonde hair, grabbed his arm. He seemed to shake it off and ran around the back of the bank.

Needless to say, when you saw Dutch that night you confronted him. You weren't going to keep secrets between the two of you, not when you were beginning to harbor some serious feelings for the man.

He admitted to seeing you, and that he didn't want you to find out--at least not in the way you had. He told you what you did, how he had dreams of making a safe home for his family where they could live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

And man if that dream didn't sound beautiful to you.

And when he showed you how much money he managed to get from the bank, it didn't hurt either.

Shortly after that, Dutch asked you to join the group, to travel with them. He told you they were going farther south than they had before, and that he couldn't bear to leave you. He wanted you to come with him, to be with him.

And there was no way you could say no to that.

So here you are, almost a year later, still sticking around.

Even after the hot pile of horse shit that was Blackwater.

That was rough on Dutch, but you were there to help calm him down and think clearly. The two of you were a power pair: the gang looked up to you. Where Dutch was the leader, telling everyone what the plan was for the next step and making sure everyone was provided for, you were there at his side to look after everyone and make sure they had what they needed. You were the one they came to if they really wanted something because they knew that if you batted your lashes at Dutch there was no way he could say no.

He both loved and hated it, you could tell. But he never told you to stop.

And though you and Dutch love each other deeply, ready to lay your life down for the other should it come to it, you've also noticed that he's been...more withdrawn as of late.

You shouldn't complain. A lot has happened in the past six months, and unfortunately, not much of it is good.

Sean was killed after someone ratted the gang out to the families in Rhodes. Kieran was beheaded as a warning to your gang. Arthur was kidnapped by the Pinkertons, and try as you had to convince Dutch to go after him, Micah was there to whisper in his ear that it wasn't a good idea. You already butt heads with Micah as it is, and you had thought for sure that Dutch would listen to you, but Micah's voice was stronger you suppose. It had hurt, but when Arthur miraculously showed back up on his own, all attention was fixed on getting him better so you pushed it to the back of your mind.

The time in Saint Denis was nice. Dutch took you to dinner like he did when you first started seeing him. He even took you to the theater and judging by how Dutch simply watched you instead of the show, you get the feeling that he took you there simply for your own pleasure instead of his own. You thanked him in more than one way later that night in your tent.

Then when he made a plan to rob the bank in Saint Denis, you got a bad feeling in your gut. It didn't sound right to you, and Hosea agreed. In a rare moment, Dutch seemed to display a show of jealousy that you were siding with Hosea over him. You tried to reassure him that you were just looking out for everyone's best interests, but he didn't want to hear it. You didn't like the plan, so you excused yourself from the job and stayed back at camp.

And severely regretted it.

Hosea and Lenny were killed. The others who went to the bank, Dutch included, disappeared. For a month. All of you thought them dead, unsure if they managed to escape or if the Pinkertons eventually got them in the end. You were all overcome with grief, and you were riddled with guilt for not being there. Maybe something would have gone differently, maybe if you had tried harder to convince him to stay...

But they came back. Dutch clutched you to him like you were what he needed to survive, and you didn't leave his side (or stop crying) for nearly three days. He put up no argument and didn't complain when you doted over him. He had lost weight, was injured in more than one place, and compared to the other men in the gang when they also eventually regrouped, he was lucky. Javier was shot.

And so you thought things were finally moving in a better direction. He grieved for those you had lost. For Lenny, for Hosea...and you were there for him. There to hold him when he needed it, there to comfort and care. You were his rock.

And when you arrived at Beaver Hollow, he seemed to be a little more positive than before. Everyone did. Maybe it was the location, maybe it was the town that was nearby where nobody knew who any of you were, or maybe it was the fact that he was inspired once more to look for a place for all of you to settle down. This was finally it, you hoped, and then you could live the rest of your days out happily.

Except Dutch started spending less time with you and more with Micah and Bill. More time was spent either at Micah's table or in your tent, and Dutch didn't allow you in the tent when he was talking over plans with the men.

You had frowned and argued. "Since when am I not included in the plans?"

He shook his head and cupped your cheek, but you stepped out of his touch, unable to hide how hurt you were from being excluded. "We don't keep secrets, Dutch."

"It's not a secret," he had frowned, "it's a plan. The less who know, the better. I promise that once we get everything laid out here, it'll already be over. It just ain't...the safest of things, Sweetheart."

You didn't want to hear his words anymore and so you left.

And that was the beginning of the rift.

Dutch tried to patch things up at first, reassuring you that he was doing this for your safety, but you just wanted him to be done with his plans. You didn't want any more risky business like the bank in Saint Denis. Hosea's death had been the last you could take. You couldn't lose him too.

But bringing up Hosea's death was a bad idea. He had closed off almost immediately. Micah had snickered and told you to go sew with the other women where you'd be useful, instead of distracting the boss. You had scoffed at his words, expecting Dutch to come to your defense, but...he didn't.

And so the hurt between the two of you grew. You stopped actively seeking him out, and he did the same with you. You started spending more time with Miss Grimshaw and Arthur on occasion, going out to hunt with him just so you'd feel useful. He knew that there was something wrong, but he never asked. And for his silence you were grateful.

One morning something was different. Dutch was gone already when you wake up, and as of late that isn't odd. It hurts your heart to think about how you were when you first moved in with him, how he would hold you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever had in the world. He told you about Annabelle, about how deeply he cared for her. You told him about your own experience with love. About the man you had been engaged to for a time, about how you broke it off because he wanted to keep you at home.

He told you how though he cared deeply for Annabelle, he never thought it possible to love a person more...until he met you. And you told him you never knew what it meant to love someone until you met him.

But these days you don't get that feeling from him anymore. It's like breaking up, even though you're still seeing the person. It's awful.

And the worst part? You still love him with every breath you take. You still watch him as he walks through camp, as he talks with the others. When he glances your way you turn, almost embarrassed that he would think you were looking at him, even though just a little bit ago you would have done so without hesitation.

You miss your best friend.

"You listenin'?"

You tear your eyes away from where Dutch is deep in conversation with Micah, a frown tugging the edges of his lips down. Tilly has her hands on her hips as she waits for an answer from you. "Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess."

She scoffs and shakes her head. "Lost in thought my ass."

You frown but take your turn and place a domino down, not saying another word on the subject. Mary-Beth looks between the two of you silently, her journal forgotten in her lap.

"Y/N, when was the last time you was out of camp?"

You glance over at Mary-Beth, trying your best not to look over her shoulder at the man who's constantly on your mind. "I dunno...about two weeks ago, I reckon."

She frowns, tapping her lips with her pencil. "You're lookin' a little worn. Maybe some new scenery would be good for ya."

You can't help the weak smile you give her. "Are you sayin' I look bad?"

She laughs softly at that. "Not at all. I think we could all do with a nice ride around the area. We ain't really...checked it out since we got here. Only a few of the men have had the chance. There ain't no good reason we shouldn't go."

You look to the sky. Though it's only the middle of the day, the sky isn't that bright. There are gray clouds in the sky, a warning of rain to come. Hopefully, it won't happen for a few hours yet.

She's right. Maybe some fresh air, a place that's new and will offer a distraction would be nice.

This time you allow your eyes to drift to Dutch. He's still deep in thought, and you can't help but sigh. Maybe it would be good for more than just you to get out of here for a little bit.

Tilly can already see where your thoughts are heading. She throws the rest of her dominoes on the table in frustration and crosses her arms, startling you and Mary-Beth. She looks between the two of you. "What? Just go ask him already."

You snort, and that manages to get a lip twitch from her. You stand and take a deep breath. "I will. Just give me a minute."

You smooth your hand over your skirt, smoothing it as you muster up the courage to speak to Dutch. It shouldn't be this hard, you think to yourself, and just that reminder makes a twinge of sadness race through you.

Maybe this can be the first step back in the right direction. Just a simple ride, right? Just to go see what's out there? He knows how much you like traveling. You know he does too, so maybe he'll be open to spending some time with you.

Micah spots you first as you walk over. He stops speaking and sneers, not even trying to hide his disgust at you. He's always been jealous of the sway you've had with Dutch, and now that he's somehow managed to gain that upper hand, you can understand how he was feeling. You want nothing more than to rip that mustache off his face.

Dutch lifts his head and stares at you without saying a word. Of course, he wouldn't speak first.

You clear your throat. "Me 'nd the ladies was thinkin' of takin' a ride around the area, getting out of camp for a while."

"Just another excuse to avoid the work that needs done 'round here." Micah's voice is dripping with disdain. Dutch shoots him a displeased look but doesn't say anything.

You continue on. "...how does that sound?"

He takes a deep breath, folding his arms over his chest and looking away from you. "Take Arthur or John with you. We don't know who's living around the area, so just be safe."

You purse your lips. "I was hopin' you'd come with us, Dutch."

His eyes flit to yours quickly, and the surprise in them is gone just as fast as it was there. But you still saw it. Did he not think you wanted him to come?

He sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. "I'm too busy today, Y/N."

You frown. "You can't spare any time? Any?"

"He said he's busy," Micah jumps in. You throw a glare at him.

"I'm not talkin' to you."

"And it's obvious that he don't want to talk to you."

You can't ignore the hurt that Micah's words send through you. Because even though you know he's just trying to make you leave, there's truth behind his statement. Dutch doesn't want to talk to you, otherwise, he'd be looking you in the eye right now.

"Is that how it's goin' to be between us, Dutch?" You ask quietly. You wave a hand out at Micah. "I barely see you anymore, we can't share more than a few words, and Micah is answerin' for you now? Is that what he is, your bitch?"

Dutch does look at you now, but he's glaring. He's never looked at you like that before. You take a step back, unsure of how to handle this situation. It was never meant to escalate like this.

"Better than bein' his whore," Micah chuckles evilly, and you reach across the table and smack him across the face before he's able to get another word out. The camp goes silent. Micah is on his feet in a second, hands balled into fists at his sides and lip curled.

"I'll fuckin' gut you, ya slimy--"

"Micah," Dutch barks, standing as well and facing the man, giving you his back. You're not sure what look it is he gives the blonde man, but whatever it is is enough to make him sit back down in his chair. That doesn't mean he doesn't continue to throw dirty looks your way.

"You're just going to let him say stuff like that? You're not going to say anything?" You ask, pointing at Micah. He looks like he wants to jump across the table and bite your finger off. You don't care that you're shouting at this point. Everything has gone too far--the old Dutch would never have allowed Micah to even look at you like that. "You're going to let him call me a whore and not say a god damn word?"

"You slapped him," Dutch says lowly, turning to look down at you. His brows are pulled together as he frowns down at you, annoyed that this is happening. That people in camp are listening in.

"Because he called me a whore, Dutch. It was an insult to me, and it was an insult to you." You shake your head, unable to believe that you even have to explain yourself. "Be honest with me Dutch, because that's all I've ever wanted from you was, to be honest. Do you even care anymore?"

He blinks, some of his anger fading away. He clearly wasn't expecting that question to come from you, not right now. "What?"

You feel your eyes begin to burn as the hurt, the loneliness, the grief from the past months start to creep forward. "About me. Do you care about me anymore, Dutch? I feel like I'm alone. I feel like you don't even want to be around me. I feel like a god damn nuisance to you anymore."

His face softens, and he murmurs your name quietly. "I didn't mean--"

"She's just lookin' for attention, boss. We got more important things to do." Micah growls, the back of his hand pressed to his inflamed cheek. Your eyes cut to him briefly before going back to Dutch.

Do it, you think to yourself, prove him and me wrong. Prove that you still care about me. Pick me over him.

But Dutch just snaps his mouth shut, tight enough that you can hear his teeth clack. A muscle ticks briefly in his jaw. "I am trying to plan something for all of us, Y/N. A better way of livin'. I can't do that if I can't focus, and all it seems that anybody around here can do anymore is distract me."

And just like that, your heart drops to your stomach.

You let out a shaky breath as tears start to stream down your face. Dutch's eyebrows raise in surprise and he flinches, his hand automatically reaching out towards you even though he probably doesn't mean for it to. "Y/N--"

"Don't touch me," you hiss, taking a step backward out of his reach, "don't talk to me. I can't do this to myself. I love you, Dutch van der Linde, and you're breaking my heart."

You turn without another word, refusing to look him in the eye. You pass the table you just sat at with the women, ignoring their sympathetic looks and the way the men politely avert their eyes as you walk past.

Only one man tries to stop you. "Y/N," Arthur calls, jogging to reach your side, but you throw a hand out behind you to tell him to stop.

"I'm goin' out," you say, hating the way your voice shakes. You go over to Scout and don't even bother putting the saddle on him, knowing you'll be gone quicker if you go bareback. You hike up your skirts and throw yourself on his back, grabbing fistfuls of his mane and finally looking down at your other friend in this camp. Arthur looks lost, like he isn't sure if he should push and follow you anyway or give you the space you're asking for. "Don't follow me. I need time alone to fuckin' think."

You squeeze your legs and Scout takes off, going faster than you asked but letting it go since it's been a while since he's been allowed to move like this. You let the sounds of camp fade away in the dust that Scout picks up and focus on getting as far away from this nightmare as you can.

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You'll never admit it to anyone, but part of you knows that riding off like that, alone, when there's a storm gathering in the sky and the sun is beginning to set might not have been the smartest thing to do.

But you're feeling sad, hurt, betrayed, so you don't really give a shit.

When you first rode off you headed towards the nearby town, but you remembered you don't have any money or weapon on you, so you turn and head off down the trail through the woods instead. It's an obvious path and doesn't seem all that threatening, and Scout is calm as he trots along, so you push any possible fears to the back of your mind and instead focus on stewing about what has happened between you and the man that you would kill for.

You give Scout control and allow him to wander wherever he pleases, satisfied when he decides to linger around a small stream just away from the main trail. You dismount and sit down at the bottom of a tree, pulling your knees up to your chest and watching Scout as he starts sniffing around the area. Once you're ready to go you'll whistle for him and he'll come, but for now you're fine with just being here for a while.

The sound of the stream is calming in ways you didn't think possible, and every once in a while you see a rogue squirrel or bird come to the area before catching sight of you and quickly scurrying off.

You just can't believe that Dutch is acting like this, treating you like this. You fell in love with the Dutch who knew what he wanted but cared enough for everyone else that he was careful about making such rash decisions. And most importantly of all, he included you in what he was doing. It made you feel wanted, made you feel like he needed you by his side.

And now?

Now you feel like a bother. Like you're some garbage he's stuck with and he's looking for the closest trash can to throw you out in.

You gave up your life for this man because you wanted to. You wanted to travel with him, join his family, be by his side. As you were around him, you got to know the real Dutch van der Linde. The one who had big dreams and wanted to share them with you. The Dutch who loved you.

You don't know if that man exists anymore.

It's not until a tear falls on your hand that you realize you're crying. You wipe your face clean and stand to your feet, deciding you can go for another ride and looking around for Scout. You don't want to shed any tears, especially for a man who no longer shares the same feelings for you as you do for him.

Not spotting Scout, you put your fingers in your mouth and whistle loudly. An answering whinny sounds just down the stream, so you start trudging down the rocks in that direction.

"--the hell is a horse doin' down here?"

You hesitate on a rock, looking down the path and seeing a man sitting astride his own horse as he peers at Scout. He doesn't look threatening, and you don't spot a gun on him anywhere, so you continue moving and clear your throat, alerting him to your presence.

"Oh, hello," he frowns as he greets you. Not the most welcoming thing, but you've certainly had worse. "Didn't see ya there."

"Hello," you keep one eye on him as you walk up to Scout and scratch his muzzle when he thrusts it in your direction, "sorry if he startled you."

He looks you over from head to toe, almost as if he's assessing if you're a threat like you did with him just a moment before. "Just surprised is all. Ain't many wild horses 'round here."

"He ain't wild, we were just takin' a ride is all."

"He's not wild?" He asks, sounding surprised even though he can clearly see how easily you're interacting with him. You take a better look at the man. He seems to be around his mid-forties, with long legs and a lanky frame. Though he looks like a twig you wouldn't doubt that he's got more strength in him than he's willing to show. You know better than to judge a book by its cover, especially considering some of the people you live with.

"No, sir, he ain't. I was just headin' back home, but it was nice to meet you."

"You out here by yourself?"

You keep your back to him as you mount up on Scout once more, making sure to hide the way your eyes widen at his question. Why is he being so pushy?

"No, sir, my brother is just upstream. We're on our way to visit our father."

The man strokes a hand over his clean-shaven face in thought. It isn't until now that you start to feel a hint of unease bloom inside you. Get out, your mind says to you, get away from here.

"Well, these places ain't nice to a lady on her own, 'specially one who's as pretty as you are. Would you like me to ride with ya until you meet up with your brother?"

You shake your head as the fear you had pushed away earlier starts to come back. "I appreciate the offer, but it's unnecessary. Have a nice day."

With a gentle squeeze of your legs, Scout starts walking up the stream and away from the mysterious stranger. "Hope you get there soon!" He calls after you, his voice scaring all the critters that had been lingering in the bushes. "Rain's comin'. Stay dry!"

You say nothing and make Scout move a little faster, just wanting to get out of there. Thankfully you don't notice anyone following you, even five minutes after you left the area, so the man didn't follow you. A sigh of relief escapes you and you start pushing Scout back in the general direction of the camp.

The man was right about the weather. Not twenty minutes into your ride back to camp and the rain starts. It's a small trickle at first, nothing too bad, but then five minutes later and it's as though the gates of heaven themselves have opened up and the earth is being flooded for the second time. You have to rely on Scout to really know where he's going, as the rain is so heavy that you can barely see more than five feet in front of you. Your clothes are soaked less than a few minutes later, and you're starting to seriously regret riding this far from camp. Or any shelter, really.

Thirty minutes later and the rain has lessened, though it's still steady as it falls from the clouds. The cold no longer bothers you, but you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Scout is puffing and constantly shaking his mane, trying to clear off some of the rain running into his eyes, and you feel guilty that your horse is suffering because you needed to be alone.

"I'll give you lots of treats when we get back," you pat his neck, "promise."

"Hey!"

You look up ahead and see that just off the main path there are a few men standing on the ground by their horses, looking directly at you. They're dressed in long black coats and hats that are shielding their faces from the rain. As you ride closer, you can see that they have pistols strapped around their waist. That uneasy feeling from before comes back again.

"Can't talk," you call out as you get close, "weather is unkind, gentlemen."

Two of the four men step away from their horses and into the path, causing Scout to slow down automatically. You grip his mane tightly and sit up straighter as they force you to stop anyway.

"Sorry 'bout holdin' you up, Miss," the one man says as he walks over to Scout's side to peer up at you. He's tall and well-built, and if you had to guess you would say he was either involved with the law in some way or a ranch hand. "But we just wanted to know if ya saw a man here recently. Tall, middle-aged. Has dark hair, nearly black, dresses real smart?"

You fall silent, the image in your head instantly forming into one of Dutch. You swallow and wipe some of the rain off your face before shaking your head. "No, sir. Haven't seen him."

The man nods, but judging by the way his lips thin you can tell he isn't happy with your answer. He waves the other man standing in the path over, and he goes to stand on Scout's other side. The man walks up and places a hand on Scout's muzzle, acting like he's petting your horse when in reality you know that that's not his intent.

"Say, this ain't the kinda place for a woman to be out alone," the first man says, and you tighten your hold on Scout's mane. "What're the odds you're out here travelin' alone?"

"Small," you say through a thin-lipped smile. "My brother is waiting. The storm just caught up to us. Now if you'll excuse me--"

"Haven't seen any other man ride through here," he interrupts your excuse, "think it'd be best if you waited here with us for a while."

You narrow your eyes. "No. Step away from my horse, please."

The second man chuckles humorlessly. "Better listen to what he says, Sweetcheeks."

When you feel a hand start to creep up your leg that's pressed against Scout's side you inhale sharply, caught off guard by the brazen touch. You don't hesitate when you tighten your grip on your horse's mane and squeeze your thighs, urging him off and away from the men. You startle the two men with your sudden departure and you hear swearing before there are some whistles behind you.

Looking over your shoulder through the rain you're just able to make out the four men as they mount their horses and take off after you, shouts of glee echoing through the thunder. You force down the panic that threatens to rise inside you and face forward once more, lowering yourself and trying to help Scout ride as fast as possible.

The rain makes it hard to see, but thankfully Scout has a good sense of where to go and where to avoid. He takes you through the woods and weaves around trees, making it harder for the pursuing men to follow your trail. You start to feel like you might actually make it out of here, that you might actually succeed in losing them.

Until they start firing their guns. As good of a horse as Scout is, if there's one thing he hates it's guns. He spooks and startles so bad that he trips over his own hooves, nearly sending the two of you tumbling forwards. You can tell from their shots that the men aren't trying to hit you, but they are trying to scare you.

Sadly, it's working.

Just as Scout makes a breakthrough the woods into an open clearing, a bullet is fired too close for comfort and lodges itself into the bark of a tree just by Scout's head. Your poor horse rears and lets out a whinny of pure fear, and if you weren't bareback and if it hadn't rained then you would've been able to hold on. But Scout is too slippery and is shaking too much so you fall onto your back on the hard ground with a muffled thud, the impact knocking the breath out of your lungs and causing you to bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood. Scout takes off into the clearing and over a hill until he's out of sight, leaving you for the wolves.

The men ride out of the woods and surround you just as you start to push yourself up, two of them immediately hopping down and circling you like vultures. The one from before who touched your leg kneels down beside you and shoves you back onto the ground by your shoulders, looking up and down your body with a disgusting glint in his eye. You reach up and slap his face, just like you did to Micah a few hours ago, and give him a good kick to his chest as well for good measure. He falls away from you with a grunt and his eyes turn angry, his lips pulling down in a sneer.

You just can't seem to please any men.

Not that you care to please them.

"Son of a bitch--"

"--just hold 'er down--"

"--make sure she ain't got any weapons--"

You let out a scream of frustration as multiple sets of hands grab hold of you then, one of them holding you down again by your shoulders, another skimming over your clothes to check for a gun or knife, another just touching and feeling and being all over intrusive. You try not to panic, you try to fight back, but when a fourth pair of hands grabs hold of your own and starts to wrap rope around them, effectively restricting you, you start to feel hopeless.

"Let me go!" You cry out, your voice competing with the cracks of thunder that shake the sky above you. Rain is falling into your eyes and mixing with your tears as you grit your teeth. "I'll fuckin' kill all of you! Get away from me!"

"Let's take her to the cabin," one of the men says, and the other starts making noises of agreement. You're pulled up onto your feet and then thrown over the shoulder of one of them like a sack of potatoes, but you continue fighting. You bang your fists into his back, kick your legs, scream until your throat feels like it's going to start bleeding.

And then one harsh strike to your head with the butt of a rifle takes the fight out of you. You try to stay awake as your vision swims, your ears ring, and your stomach churns, the man's shoulder suddenly pressing into the wrong spot of your stomach. Something warm runs down the side of your face, a stark contrast to the cool rain that's already running in rivulets there.

And then suddenly the man holding you is dropping to the ground like a stone, his hold completely gone. You roll off his shoulder and onto the ground, your face pressed into the cold and muddy ground. The ringing slowly fades away and you can make out shouting, but not shouts of triumph. No, it's a mixture of panic and fury.

You open your eyes and see what looks like more men riding towards you on horses, though you're not sure if they're here to join the men you're currently with or not.

More gunshots ring out and you watch as another one of the men standing near you falls to the ground, dead. The other two fumble for their weapons and start firing back, not expecting the attack and underprepared for it. It doesn't take long before they're also on the ground, blood spilling from their own wounds.

Three horses come to a stop near you and the men quickly dismount. Two sets of hurried footsteps move in your direction, and then someone's knees are hitting the ground as they fall beside you. A new set of hands reaches out and lifts you out of the mud and props you up in their arms, far more gentler than the other men did.

You blink away the rain and mud and whatever other substances might be in your eyes and focus on whoever it is that's holding you, feeling surprised when you see it's Dutch.

"Dutch?" You ask, almost unable to believe he's really here.

He's soaked to the bone and even though your vision is still a little murky from the knock to the head, the anguish is as clear as day.

He says your name like a whisper of a prayer--like he's unable to believe that you're right there. Someone else kneels down on your other side and takes your hands, quickly flicking their knife through the rope and cutting you free. Arthur is watching you with concern in his eyes as he tucks his knife back into his pocket and stands to his feet once more.

"Talk to me," Dutch says hoarsely, "are you hurt? How do you feel? Did they touch--" he closes his eyes tightly and grinds his teeth together.

"We're lucky that man back there told us 'bout which direction you was headin' in," Arthur says gruffly, locking eyes with Dutch.

Man? What man? And then it hits you. The man from the stream.

The man who also fit the description of who these men were looking for. Most likely their actual target, instead of Dutch.

And he just saved you by telling Dutch and Arthur where you were headed.

"C-cold," you finally croak, feeling the rain leech into your skin and take any and all warmth from you. Dutch's hands tighten on you and he looks up at Arthur, nodding firmly. Dutch stands to his feet and brings you with him, keeping his arms firmly around you as he whistles for his horse. The familiar beast ambles over and Dutch carefully lifts you onto the saddle there before mounting behind you. He takes his coat and bundles you in it until you're tucked in, though it won't do much since it's also soaked with the rain. He wraps one arm firmly around your waist and brings you into his chest before taking hold of the reins and flicking them, urging the two of you off and back towards camp.

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You're shaking by the time you get back, unable to stop the chills that are racing up and down your body. Dutch keeps you clutched tightly in his hold, your head in his neck, and his chin resting on top of your head. When you finally see Bill standing on guard at camp you feel as though you could cry tears of relief.

"Miss Grimshaw!" He calls, his voice cracking at the urgency of his tone, "I need hot water and dry blankets!"

Susan pokes her head out of her own tent, annoyed that she's being asked to do something when it's raining but then that quickly fades when she takes in your state. She nods once and gets to work without a word.

Dutch rides his horse over to your tent instead of stopping where the others are. He dismounts first and then before you have a chance to get down yourself he's bundling you up in his arms and carrying you into your tent, one arm beneath your shoulders and the other under your knees. You lean against his chest, tired and cold, and happily accepting any form of heat that you can get.

He places you on your bed and starts hastily pulling your clothes off, and if you weren't still reeling from what just happened and if you weren't still upset about what he did earlier today then maybe you would have laughed. Maybe you would have told him to calm himself and slow down.

"Dutch," you murmur as he gets to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it. He ignores you and keeps moving, determined to get your clothes off. "Dutch."

"You'll freeze," he hisses, his eyes almost black as he looks at you for the first time since he found you on the ground. You swallow and let out a deep breath. "You can't...you can't be wearing these. You need warm clothes, honey."

The name makes you melt just a little bit, but you still reach up and take hold of his hands, forcing him to stop. He frowns as he looks to you for an explanation.

You swallow and look down at your muddied skirt. "I can do it myself."

"What?" He asks quietly, hands tightening their hold on your own. "Why would you--"

"I haven't forgotten this morning," you clench your eyes shut and try not to get too angry as you think of the betrayal you felt just hours ago. "I appreciate you helping me, but I know now that you have more important things to do than be here with me."

There's a moment of silence as Dutch lets your confession hang in the air between the two of you. You're afraid to look him in the eye, afraid of what you'll find there. He hasn't had time to think through things as you have, he probably feels no different now than he did this morning.

"Y/N," he shocks you by leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your own. You jolt and look at him in surprise, finally meeting his gaze. He looks troubled, weighed down, tired. All of you in the camp are feeling those things, but Dutch? He feels all of them but in a more profound way. In a way that others will never understand because they're not expected to lead this group. In a way that you understand because you've seen him go through it, experience it, live it.

And sometimes he forgets that you know this part of him.

"I saw what those men were doing, how they touched you," he spits the words, his face screwing up in anger. "And I'm sorry I didn't stop them sooner. I should've been there."

"Dutch," you frown, not stopping him as he continues to unbutton your shirt and tug it off your shoulders. It's been a while since the two of you have been intimate with each other, and so him doing this, him touching you and taking care of you brings up feelings that you thought were gone.

"I can't lose you too," he finally admits, his voice breaking and his hands stilling as he clenches his eyes shut. "I can't. I can't. You ran from here, straight into the path of those sick bastards, all because of me. If they had...if they had taken you from me, I wouldn't have been able to handle it. Not after Annabelle. Not after Hosea. Not you."

You cup his face with your ice-cold hands, unable to stop yourself from tilting his chin up and pressing a kiss to his lips. He's warmer than you, and he flinches as your cold skin touches his own, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't shrug you off and push you to the side as he did earlier.

"I have the water," Miss Grimshaw calls from outside of your tent. You can tell that Dutch is loathed to move but he stands up and slips out quickly before bringing the large basin inside, the steam still rising from the water as it sloshes around. You look him over from head to toe, noticing how the rain has made his clothing stick to his body like a second skin, accentuating his muscles and strength.

"Come here, Sweetheart," Dutch says softly as he takes your hands and helps you to your feet. He helps you step out of the rest of your clothes, his eyes lingering only briefly on your body before gently lowering you into the water. You can't help but groan as the warm water instantly soothes your aching muscles and burns away the worst of the cold that was clinging to your skin. You expect him to sit on a chair and let you soak, but he surprises you by sitting on the ground and grabbing a cloth, wiping your face clean.

He dabs around the wound on your temple, frowning as he soaks up the blood that had run down your face and makes you clean once more. You watch him closely, afraid that if you look away then this side of your old Dutch will fade away with the storm.

"What?" He finally asks after a few minutes of silence.

"Are we goin' to be okay?"

He hesitates when you ask that, his brown eyes locking with your own. "Of course we'll be okay. This plan--"

"No." Your voice is firm. "Are we going to be okay, Dutch? I can't...the thing that happened with Micah today. I can't take you choosing him over me."

Dutch frowns. "I didn't choose him over you."

You nod once. "You did, Dutch. And you're too blind to this plan of yours that you don't even see it."

His brows furrow, showing a hint of annoyance. "Now, Y/N--"

"No, Dutch. I'm trying to live my life, happily, and with people I love. I love the members of this family you've let me into, all of them are great. Except for Micah. He's shit and he's creating a rift between all of us that is soon goin' to be too big to fix." Tears begin to build in your eyes. "And you 'nd I aren't on the same side, Dutch. So when it finally splits, what's goin' to happen to us? Is there even goin' to be an us?"

"Hey," Dutch reaches out and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him, "nothing is going to happen to us. I'm making a better life for us--"

"Do it another way."

He shakes his head, caught off guard. "What?"

You grit your teeth. "Do. It. Another. Way."

"What does that even mean, Y/N?"

"I want this better life, Dutch. This dream you've told me about from the beginning. I want that, I want that for us. But it ain't gonna happen with this plan, especially if you're makin' it with Micah and I ain't allowed to know what it is."

"Micah has good ideas--"

"I don't care!" Your frustration finally breaks through, and you decide now is as good a time as any to let it all out. "I don't care if he has the best plan in the world. Micah Bell is ruining our family, Dutch. He's killing all of us, turning you against us and makin' you think we're out to get you when we love you!" Your lower lip wobbles and you bury your face in your hands for a moment, getting your composure back. "So you need to make a choice, Dutch. You either do it another way, or I'm gone."

He falls back on his haunches, eyes wide as he stares at you with an open mouth. "Y/N--"

You tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him while simultaneously feeling your heart break. You take the rag that now lies forgotten and continue to clean yourself, trying your best not to wince when you brush over a particularly tender spot that smarts with pain.

A large hand slowly and gently encompasses your own, halting your movements. You look up with stinging eyes, afraid of what you'll find. Dutch's hair is unkempt, his face paler than usual and bags under his eyes. He's exhausted. You're exhausted. Both mentally and physically. He looks the same.

"I mean what I said, Y/N," he murmurs quietly, "I can't lose you." He squeezes his hand over your own, an intensity crawling into his chocolate brown eyes as he refuses to leave your gaze. "I didn't know that you were feeling like this."

"It's not just me, Dutch," you try not to let your voice wobble, but it still sounds shaky anyway, "it's our family. We don't like what's happening here. We don't feel safe. We just want a home."

"Home," he murmurs, and you know it's more to himself than to you.

"Micah is not a part of my home." You solidify your voice, making sure to stress to him how serious you are about that statement. "I want the others, Dutch. I want Abigail and Susan and Tilly and John and Arthur. I don't want Micah. I don't want him with us and our family." You take his hand and lift it so you can press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. "Our family, Dutch. Blood or otherwise. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Dutch watches you with a lost expression, so to help you take his hand and dip it in the water, guiding it until it's resting lightly on your belly. His fingers tickle your skin but his touch is soft and gentle. His eyes widen as he finally understands the message you're trying to tell him.

"I want a home. I want our family." You take a deep breath, tears once more brimming in your eyes. "And I don't want Micah there for it."

Dutch's face falls blank, and then he's pushing off his knees and standing to his feet. You think it's a rejection, him getting ready to leave you, your demands too high, and you want to cry. Tears slip down the side of your face and fall in the water to mix with the dirt and blood that's swirling around.

But Dutch surprises you when he gently grasps your hands and pulls you up to your feet, helping to gingerly guide you out of the tub, taking care so you don't slip and fall. He takes one of the towels that are sitting over by the entrance of the tent and wraps it around you, guiding you over to your cot and urging you to sit down. You do so, keeping it held tightly around your shoulders as he then pulls out a pair of his long johns and a soft union shirt. He helps to dry you off before leading your limbs through the holes in the clothing, putting dry and clean clothes on you.

"Dutch--" you ask in confusion, but he merely blows out the candle that's burning on the table and strips out of his own wet clothes, dressing himself once again in quick fashion before guiding you to lay down on the bed. He crawls in beside you, using his large hands to grasp your waist and tug you into his chest, one of them skimming up your back and cradling the base of your skull, asking you to rest your head in the crook of his neck. You do so without hesitation.

"I'll always pick you," he presses a kiss to your forehead, and in the darkness of the tent you start to cry once again, a wave of relief as big as a tsunami washing over you at the realization that he's not picking Micah over you this time. "I'll make a new plan, Sweetheart, for us. For our future."

You grab handfuls of his shirt and tilt your head up, peppering kisses along his jaw and over to his lips where you give him a longer and more meaningful kiss. "Do you promise?"

He nuzzles his face into your hair, letting out a sigh. "Anything for our family." He snakes one hand to your waist and softly brushes his thumb over your belly. "Both of them."

#Dutch Van Der Linde #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption one shot #this took so long to write and should've been posted a year ago #i'm so sorry

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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 5

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Morgan awoke to the sound of humming. He stretched, groaning as his muscles protested. Evidently his choice of sleeping positions had not been ideal, but he'd been too tired to care when he'd settled in. The humming stopped, and Deckard Cain turned to him from where he had been tending a pot over a small fire nearby.

"Would you believe," he said, "that none of the Sisterhood would give me your name, friend? Such a strange thing."

He would believe it. He'd learned long ago that it was generally not worth the trouble to correct people once they'd decided what they wanted to call him. The strange thing here was how little Cain seemed to be troubled by his presence. He would enjoy it while it lasted.

"It's Morgan."

"Well, Morgan, we have much to discuss. But before we get started, let us eat. You must be famished after yesterday's events." He held out a bowl of steaming soup, which Morgan accepted gratefully. It was hot and filling, exactly what he hadn't realized he needed. He'd gotten cold overnight.

Morgan briefly summarized the request that had brought him here: to disturb the progress of the unidentified manifestation of darkness taking root in these lands. Cain filled in quite a lot of details while Morgan mainly listened, asking occasional questions for clarification. A great and ancient evil had come to light in Tristram, leading eventually to the tragedy that had befallen the city. Although a hero had been successful in defeating that evil, it seemed he had been unfortunately corrupted by the same. He had fled eastward, but to complicate matters, another powerful demon had arisen to trouble the area.

Cain suspected this new demon to be Andariel, the Maiden of Anguish. Quite a title. He shared what he knew about her: a venomous demon queen with the power to enthrall mortals unlucky or unwise enough to look her full in the eyes. Like most major demons, her power also manifested in a sort of influence that spread out from her like a miasma. By Cain's estimation, this would be apparent through increased emotional sensitivity in those affected, to complement the physical anguish she was capable of inflicting. That would be something to look out for; emotional regulation was the foundation that gave strength and clarity to the priests of Rathma. To have it disrupted would compromise his ability to act in the best interest of the Balance. Morgan would have to be careful about that.

He was enjoying the conversation, to his surprise. Cain had a vast wealth of knowledge and seemed eager to share it. He was explaining his interpretation of a particular prophecy when Blaise stalked up to them with a sour look on her face. She glared daggers at Morgan, crossing her arms.

"Good, you're awake. Come with me, we have work to do."

"We do?" He'd expected - hoped, if he was honest with himself - that her involvement would be finished after retrieving Cain. That was as far as Kashya had demanded it, anyway. "I thought you-"

"I thought this nightmare was over too, but I just finished arguing with Akara. One of our old commanders has risen from the dead to attack us, and she blames you." She looked back toward the gates. "I told her that's not how your stuff works, but she didn't believe me." That was a surprise - he would not have guessed she might speak up in his defense. He wondered what had changed. Maybe Cain had convinced her somehow. The man was good with words, with people, in a way Morgan knew he could never hope to echo. "So if you don't come with me to put her back in the ground, you're probably going to regret it," Blaise continued with a pointed look.

Well, Morgan couldn't argue with that. He stood and stretched, taking stock of his belongings as Cain pressed Blaise with questions. She bore them with more patience than he'd expected. One of the other scouts had survived the attack, but her recovery was not going well. It sounded like she'd been poisoned. A shame they hadn't kept the arrow; he might have been able to identify the toxin. But then again, if he tried to treat her and failed, they would be even less willing to trust him. If Cain was right, it would be a moot point anyway - he thought the resurrection was Andariel's doing, meaning that the poison was likely due to her influence. He had no experience with that type of venom.

"Oh, Morgan, I almost forgot," Cain called out as they were leaving. Morgan turned to see him holding something in an upraised hand. "You had better take another scroll of town portal, in case you should need to return with haste."

"Thank you." He accepted the proffered scroll with a small bow of his head, tucking it into his belt.

"Let's get a move on already," Blaise called. She had already started walking. Morgan jogged to catch up, already apprehensive about the journey ahead. Her mood had softened around the old scholar, but it seemed Morgan would not be privy to those benefits. He hoped this situation would be resolved quickly so he could begin planning his attack on Andariel.

The battle was over in short order. The reanimated rogue captain had called out to Blaise by name, which confirmed Cain's guess about her origins - only very powerful forces could resurrect both flesh and spirit. She must have been buried inexpertly, leaving her vulnerable to those malign forces. Most funeral proceedings not led by the Order of Rathma or other experienced practitioners were more for the benefit of the living than the dead. At any rate, it served only to fuel Blaise's already considerable anger, and she'd defeated the revenant with only a moment's hesitation. Several piles of earth were evidence of Morgan's attempts to provide support. Each golem was ever so slightly faster to rise than the last, but this enemy had been agile enough to render them all but useless until she'd stumbled over a previously flat spot of ground. Not an elegant solution, but effective enough in the end. Now Blaise was examining the body, brow furrowed.

"Hey. Ghoul... uh. Morgan." That was a surprise. Cain had called him by name in front of her, but he'd assumed she wouldn't be bothered to remember it. "If you do that... ceremony. Like in Tristram. Will it... help her?"

"The final rites will lay her spirit to rest, and consecration should prevent her from rising again." He'd planned on performing them anyway, as a matter of course. At the very least, they would prevent her from being wholly resurrected again - powerful magic could overcome a properly consecrated body, but it could not pluck a spirit back once it had passed on.

Blaise seemed reluctant to ask outright, but she did step in to help when he went to move the body back to the grave it had clearly clawed out of. He opted for a more thorough consecration ritual and a shorter liturgy, both of which seemed to be well received. Blaise didn't raise any objections, at least. The interment was easier than the last ones, the ground more yielding, but a frown crept onto Morgan's face as he stood up and surveyed his work.

"What are you making that face for? Didn't it work?"

"No, that's not it. Your commander is at peace now, but there are many restless dead here. It must be Andariel making them stir like this." He could barely hear their whispers at the edge of his awareness if he concentrated. It was a little unsettling; usually he could only just sense a hint of the spirit lingering on a set of bones, nothing near this strong. He lacked the natural facility with spirits that drew some of the acolytes to his Order. At any rate, their agitation was cause for concern.

"I don't have the supplies to handle this many."

"I guess we'd better take the fight to Andariel, then. Don't look so surprised," she added, folding her arms across her chest. "The Sisterhood doesn't want there to be a... demon queen or whatever just running loose. She's killing our people. And apparently bringing them back again, and that's just fucked up. I may not like you, but you're the only person who's come through lately and survived. So we might as well work together on this."

"Yes, of course. You're right." The suggestion was wholly unexpected, but sound. Their objectives aligned, at least on the surface. If that was enough for her to tolerate working with him a little longer, he wasn't about to turn down her assistance. She was many times stronger than him. Luckily, she seemed capable of putting aside her personal feelings temporarily in order to meet a goal. It was really about as favourable a partnership as he could hope to make.

Now seemed like an opportune time to present a peace offering of some sort. But given her previous overreaction to a completely innocent comment, he didn't really want to risk giving a gift that could be taken as a token of anything he didn't intend. Perhaps... knowledge? There had been few of his brethren in the Order who'd had trouble with the portal scrolls, but their difficulties had always been resolved with a little coaching. It seemed like it would be worth trying.

He plucked the scroll from Cain out of its spot on his belt and held it out to her. She eyed it suspiciously. "Here. These are useful. You should try it again."

"It isn't that far to go back, you know," she said, not making a move to take the rolled parchment.

"The object is to see if you can use it. Not to actually travel. You might need one in the future."

She snatched the scroll from his hands and unrolled it with a snap of her wrist. "I can't even read what it says," she grumbled.

"Neither can I," he said. She looked up from the parchment with a perplexed frown. "It's not words, it's more like a spell," he explained. The look on her face told him she was going to need more than that. "You just have to believe it's going to work. Try telling it that it's going to open a portal for you."

"You didn't have to tell it anything when you did it yesterday."

"I already know how it's going to work. I just have to... acknowledge that I expect it to let me travel somewhere, and think about where." It was much easier to do than to explain. "Just try," he urged. "You don't have to say it out loud," he added, in case that helped.

She looked back down at the scroll. Her lips moved a little, and shortly a small circle appeared in the air in front of her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"See, it works for you. Now try to think about a specific place," Morgan advised. Slowly an image came into focus within the circle. It looked like the inside of a building. There were rows of beds lined up, presumably the barracks of the Sisterhood. Blaise looked cautiously pleased as the portal opened up fully now that it had a destination.

"I guess it's not so hard to use magic, is it?" she said with a smile. It was strange for a moment, having that smile aimed at him.

"Not this kind," Morgan agreed. There were many different types of magic and some of them were quite difficult to use even for experienced mages, but he suspected this would not be the time to get into a discussion on the topic.

"How do I close it?"

"It will close on its own when you come back through it, or if the spell is disrupted. Yesterday I tore the parchment to close it."

"Huh. Thanks."

Morgan nodded an acknowledgement and turned to go. The walk back would give him a chance to think about how to best approach the situation. Andariel was probably lurking within the nearby cathedral, if the patterns of undead were to be trusted. Demons often liked to pervert religious spaces, and major demons tended to draw flocks of lesser evils around them.

"Aren't you coming?" He turned back to see Blaise standing by the portal, hands on her hips.

"I'm walking. It isn't that far to go back," he parroted.

"This is easier, though. And faster."

"That looks like your sleeping quarters," he pointed out. "I doubt I would be welcome."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good point. I'll see you back outside the encampment, then." She turned and paused for a moment, then strode confidently through the portal. Morgan waited until it had flickered closed behind her before taking his leave. He would have preferred to be able to put more of the spirits to rest, but that could be seen to after Andariel had been defeated. There would be little point in wasting his energy on a task that was likely to be undone. He stopped at the cemetery gate and knelt, touching a hand to the soil. A thin line rose up, curling around itself in a simple sign. It marked the area as requiring the attention of a priest of Rathma. This way, if he was to fall in battle, the next of his Order to come along would be able to soothe the unquiet dead.

He raised another golem and started walking. With this new partnership, there could be a reasonably good chance of defeating Andariel. He wondered what state the cathedral would be in, and how many skeletons he might hope to find lying beneath its floors. He hoped there would be some stained glass still intact. Not for any strategic purpose, just because he liked it. It was his personal opinion, not endorsed by the priesthood, that artisans who spent their efforts on creating beautiful things were doing work for the Light. Of course beauty and skill did not appear in the list of attributes that added up to make the weight of a person's goodness or lack thereof, and it was really just idle musing on his part. Still, he appreciated beauty where he found it.

#my writing #story: unbidden

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